#okay the ending is shitty but it's been sitting on my drafts forever and i needed to post it ncksmxka | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beetlelands · 4 years ago

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okay hey besties!!! im gonna post some of my drafts. this draft was simply titled “say uncle” and is from december 2019. it's the one i mentioned about beetlejuice being lydia's uncle, but i bet you could've guessed that.

“Lydia! Can you get the door?” Delia called out from the kitchen. The teen girl groaned dramatically in response from her spot on the couch. “Please?” Her stepmom-to-be shouted.

Lydia rolled her eyes but heaved herself off the couch. She lazily walked over to the front door, which had been loudly knocked on just moments ago.

“If I get killed, it’s all your fault.” Lydia cheerfully announced towards the kitchen before turning to open the door. Upon opening the door, Lydia’s jaw dropped.

There stood her uncle- Lawrence Betelgeuse “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth. The bastard himself.

Her shock quickly wore off into anger. She slammed the door in his face, but he simply knocked again. She took a deep breath before opening the door once more.

“Why are you here?” She spat, crossing her arms.

“C’mon didn’t you miss me?” He smiled, holding his arms out for a hug.

Lydia rolled her eyes, going to close the door again. Her uncle scrambled to keep the door from closing, pushing it open.

“What do you want?” She hissed, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Lucy, I’ve got some ’splaining to do.” He joked yet his tone was somber.

Lydia sighed but opened the door wide enough for him to enter. She walked to the couch, leaving him at the open door. He caught on and closed the door behind him as he followed her to the couch.

She sat down on one end and he on the other. Lydia was sat cross legged, looking at him expectantly.

“You have every right to be mad at me.” He started, but was interrupted.

“I had to show up to the funeral despite wanting to mourn alone in peace, so why couldn’t you show up to your own sister’s funeral? Dude, even Juno called to give her condolences. Juno for hell’s sake!” Venom laced her words, her pent up anger bubbling over. “So yeah, I have every right to be mad at you.”

“I know that was extremely shitty for me to do, and I do not expect you to forgive me. All I can ask is that you hear me out.” He sighed. “When I heard that Emily was getting sick, I drove myself insane trying to find someone- anyone- to help her. But that just got me in way too deep with some terrible people. I was so obsessed with wanting to cure my sister that I missed her death and her funeral.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t go back in time. I can’t get back that time I should’ve spent by her side through it all. I can’t get back the time I should’ve spent with you and your father- grieving with you.” He sniffled, looking down. Lydia was rendered speechless by the tears threatening to spill from her uncle’s eyes. He hastily rubbed at his eyes, as if embarrassed by his emotions.

“I don’t want to forgive you,” She started quietly, “but I don’t want to hate you forever.”

“Well that’s a good start.” He smiled a little, earning an eye roll from the girl. “You don’t have to forgive me anytime soon, but please don’t shut me out. I wasn’t there when I should’ve been, but I’m here now. I’m here for you, for Charles- for the only family I have left.”

Lydia had never seen her uncle be so open and emotional. Sure, he was occasionally too open, but that was about his wild journeys and not his feelings. The man could recall his near death experiences in gory detail without batting an eye, but here he was choking up as he apologized to his niece.

The girl hadn’t noticed her own tears brimming in her eyes until he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Lydia looked up at him, and his heart ached from the time he missed.

Wordlessly, she fell into his arms and let out a quiet sob. He rubbed circles in her back, hoping to provide a further sense of comfort for the girl. Her breathing slowly evened out.

Charles walked into the room after being told by Delia that someone had knocked on the door. He had full intent to ask Lydia who was at the door, but was stopped in his tracks as he noticed the man- his brother in law. His initial glare at the man softened as he noticed him holding his daughter. Beetlejuice gave Charles an awkward smile, which he didn’t return.

He gave Lydia a small pat on the back before quietly talking to her. “Your old man’s here.”

She tensed before sitting up. She turned her head to look at Charles. “Hey dad… Uncle Beej is here.”

“I’m aware, Lydia.” He sighed, walking over to the couch. “Can you give us a moment?” His daughter nodded hesitantly before leaving. Charles sat down, taking Lydia’s place on the couch.

“Okay Chuck, I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do-“

“The hell you do. You just up and leave without another word when your sister gets sick. No one had any contact with you.” He clenched his fist. “When Emily was on her deathbed, she asked for you. Asked where you were. And I couldn’t give her an answer because I didn’t know where the hell you were!”

Beetlejuice placed his head in his hands. “I’m the worst. I know. I’m a terrible person, but more so a terrible brother.” He looked up at Charles. “I’m not going to sit here and play the sympathy card- telling you how fucking depressed I’ve been for the past few months because of how absolutely shit I am as a person.” He evened out his breathing. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for my absence. I should’ve been here and I know I should’ve been. I should’ve been there for Emily and for you and Lydia. I should’ve fucking been there.” He seethed, angry with himself.

“Can I just ask- why? Why weren’t you there? And why are you here now?”

“When Emily told me she was sick, I lost it. You know the old conspiracy theory of the government hiding a cure for cancer and other big illnesses like that?” Hesitantly, Charles nodded. “Well I heard about these guys who were selling that kind of shit- real black market level business going on. But I was stupidly determined to get a cure. I got into some deep, deep shit that I will not be sharing for your own safety. Point is, I became so obsessed with trying to heal Emily that I pushed her away. In turn, I pushed you and Lydia away. And for that I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked with his anger and sincerity.

Charles was somewhat shocked by the man’s apology and how he didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive. He was just… sorry.

“I’m here now to make up for my mistakes. I know I can’t get back that time. But I’m here for you and Lydia, and wanted to apologize for not being here when it really counted.”

“Lawrence, you messed up. Badly.” Charles paused, sighing. “But your heart was in the right place. Hell, even just coming here and apologizing shows me how you’ve grown.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but-“

“I do.”

“I just- wait what?”

“I forgive you Lawrence.”

“Oh wow okay- I was not expecting that.”

“You meant well, and I know Emily wouldn’t want me to be mad at you forever.” Charles shrugged.

“Chuck I really want to hug you right now.”

With a laugh and a roll of his eyes, the taller man opened his arms to his brother in law, who launched into them. The two men embraced for a little bit before Charles tapped Beetlejuice’s back twice and he let go.

“I hope Lydia forgives me soon.”

“Was that not what that hug was about?”

“Eh not really. But she did say that she doesn’t want to be mad at me forever.”

“She’ll come around when she’s ready. She just recently came to terms with Emily’s death- not that it was an easy thing to do because trust me it wasn’t- but she’s mending and growing.” The man could’ve rolled his eyes at how much he sounded like Delia.

Beetlejuice nodded in understanding. He wanted Lydia to know he would be there for her, but would keep his distance if she wanted him to.

Time skip because I’m a delinquent

Beetlejuice made routine visits to the Deetz house. He didn’t know many other people in Winter River, and didn’t care to create connections in the small town. The only thing keeping him there was his family. When he wasn’t at the Deetz’s house, he was hiding out in the local motel. Sure, he would go out and explore every now and then, but he had no real drive to go out. Beetlejuice had gotten into the habit of laying low and was comfortable with the lifestyle. Plus, it’s not like he could go on with business as usual. He may have gotten out of everything, but that didn’t make him any less of a target than he was before. However, that doesn’t matter, as the man was more than content to lay low.

During one of Beetlejuice’s routine visits to the Deetz house, Lydia brought him to the roof. There they sat and talked for what felt like hours. She asked him about her mother, asking for stories of her. He smiled softly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, and launched into the story of Emily teaching him how to ride a bike. He kept to the lighthearted stories, despite the bittersweet taste they left in his mouth.

In between stories, Lydia spoke. Her words were quiet but meaningful. “I forgive you” she said simply, looking to her uncle for his reaction.

Beetlejuice smiled at the girl. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I think I’m starting to.” She mirrored his smile. “Can you tell me just one more story?”

“Sure, kid.” He thought for a second before beginning another story, this one about the time they had secretly taken in a stray cat. It had to remain a secret as Juno did not approve of having pets.

He was describing their convoluted plan to keep the cat hidden from Juno when a car pulled into the neighbor’s driveway. He and Lydia both seemed to have been distracted by the vehicle. The girl waved at the man who got out of the car and he waved back- he also waved at Beej despite not knowing who he was. But Beej returned the wave out of general hospitality.

“Is Barbara home?” Lydia called to the man.

“Yeah.” He checked his watch. “She should just about be done with dinner if you want to ask Charles if you can come over.”

At that Beetlejuice’s brows furrowed. Why would a grown man invite a teenager to his house. Not that the bespectacled, plaid shirt and khaki wearing man seemed dangerous. But that didn’t make it less weird. Okay he did say to ask Charles, but unless Barbara was his teenage daughter he didn’t see any reason for Lydia to go to his house.

“Oh yes! I could definitely do without Delia’s cooking tonight.”

“She’s getting better, Lydia.” He said sincerely, almost reprimanding the teen for her comment.

“Yeah true. I’d rather (idk man some vegan food) than banana-carrot surprise.” She made a disgusted face at the memory of the casserole type dish.

“See!” The man laughed a little.

“I’ll be over in a few!”

“Would you like to bring your guest?” He asked, finally addressing Beetlejuice.

She turned to her uncle, “Wanna go?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, a protectiveness tightening his chest. He knew the man meant no harm, yet his ‘trust no one’ motto was strongly built into his mindset.

Lydia excitedly threw a thumbs up towards the man on the ground. “He’s coming with me.”

“Okay, I’ll see you two in a few.” The man smiled before heading inside.

Beetlejuice fully turned to Lydia, “Who was that?”

“Adam Maitland. He’s kinda been like a second father to me. Not that dad isn’t great, it’s just- when mom died we grew distant. Dad wanted to soldier up, and keep moving. I don’t blame him, but at the time it was hard. I was still mourning while he seemed to have moved on.” She twisted her hands together. “One day I did something I’d rather not talk about. And well, Adam and Barbara were there for me. I was sad a-and angry and scared and confused, but they just sat with me. They listened when I talked, they held me when I cried.” She shivered at the memory. “Adam and Barbara became second parents to me.”

Ah so Barbara was not his teenage daughter, but perhaps his wife.

“Well now I’m excited to meet them.” Beej smiled, standing up. He offered his hand to his niece and she grabbed it. He pulled her up effortlessly, yet still groaned as if she was super heavy. The two shared a laugh at his antics as they headed inside the house.

Unsurprisingly, Charles said yes to Lydia (and Beej) going to the Maitland’s house. So that’s where they headed.

Lydia knocked on the door, which was soon opened by the man from before. Adam.

Seeing him up close made Beetlejuice realize that he was… attractive? No, that’s inappropriate. The man has a wife, Beej reminded himself as he shook his hand and introduced himself.

They made it to the dining room, where Barbara emerged from the kitchen with a pan of lasagna. The woman was breathtaking, but Beetlejuice relented the thought.

She placed it in the middle of the table and took a seat. Adam sat next to her. Lydia sat across from Adam, leaving Beetlejuice to sit across from Barbara.

“Hi I’m Barbara Maitland.” She smiled, offering her hand as Adam began serving the food.

He shook her hand, “I’m Lydia’s uncle Lawrence, but you can call me Beetlejuice- or some variation of it. Everyone does.” He shrugged.

“Beetlejuice?” She raised an eyebrow, just as her husband had done,

“Like the constellation Betelgeuse, but most people just spell it phonetically. It’s uh- it’s my middle name.”

“That’s very interesting.” She smiled, tone sincere.

“How much would you like, Beetlejuice?” Adam asked, spatula over the pan in an estimated size.

“That much is fine.” He smiled, moving his plate toward the pan. Adam swiftly placed the lasagna on his plate before dishing some out to Barbara.

The group ate quietly for a while. Toward the end of their meal, Barbara spoke up.

“How was your day, Lydia?”

The girl looked up from her plate and to the woman. “It was pretty good- but it’s even better now.”

“Because you’re not eating Delia’s cooking?” The woman asked with a laugh.

“Bingo.” Lydia smiled.

“You’ve got to ease up on her, Lyds. You and I both know she’s trying and improving.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“I’ve actually been gathering vegan recipes for her, making her a personalized cookbook. Adam and I have tried out most of the recipes, and I think you’ll like them.”

“Well here’s hoping.” The girl smiled a bit, finishing up her lasagna.

Beetlejuice admired how the woman was going out of her way to help improve Delia’s cooking. Which will in turn help Lydia, who often complains about the woman’s food and asks her uncle to bring her something else to eat.

The group continued with the small talk and soon enough Lydia and Beetlejuice were walking out the door. They had been invited to stay longer, but Beej didn’t want to intrude and Lydia decided to just go along with her uncle.

But that certainly wasn’t the last time the duo would be visiting the Maitlands.

It had been a few weeks since Beej first went to the Maitlands house with Lydia. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think they were attractive. However, Beetlejuice wasn’t that daft. He knew they were married and knew not to impose. Sure, he once had a threesome with a married couple back in New York but that wouldn’t be happening here. Not only were Adam and Barbara clearly not the type for that kind of thing, but they were also far too close to Lydia for him to even begin considering acting on his attraction. Which was strictly that- attraction. No feelings- no strings attached. Just basic, hormonal attraction.

Beetlejuice shook the thought from his head, buttoning the last button of his shirt. He grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulder before leaving to go to the Deetz’s house.

He was walking up the driveway when he was greeted by the neighbors. Adam held a pair of garden scissors in one hand, the other waving at the other man. Beetlejuice waved back. Barbara smiled at the man and called out a hello. He returned the

and hey? that’s where it ends. very abrupt ik, but that’s where past me stopped

#straight up didn't edit this #long post #draft #not quite a work in progress bc there’s no way i’m gonna finish it #a work out of progress #i suppose???#breaking the fourth wall #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #charles deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #beetlelands #kinda

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julessworldd · 4 years ago

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Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots @roger-taylors-car @reigns420 @awildkaitlynhasappeared @ginny-rose-sixx @izzysguitar since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year.

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date. Felt like it was yesterday..

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute..

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms. "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed. Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was.

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros. I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero.

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me. I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings.

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk. It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too.

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything. "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back. "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around.

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat.

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers.

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late."

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room.

"Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled.

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled. Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused.

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around. "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil. "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist.

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me” I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again.

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection.

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe. I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfic #highschool au #Oc!reader #Judith Channing

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

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Raven used to be my friend but I had to cut ties recently due to feeling like walking on eggshells everytime we spoke and they never apologized to me for when I brought up something that they did upset me. I really miss them but I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude.

Pt 2 of Ravens old friend. They reblogged anti fandom posts on their resource blog and I happened to be in that fandom and it hurt. A resource blog shouldn't be doing that.

Hey, Anon! I wanted to post this before I released one of my drafts, as that draft happens to be something I do not want you to misconstrue being about you. Thought about it after the fact and honestly, felt a bit ill over potentially making you think any such thing! The post is about how pushy people can be about what they like (usually as regards fandom) that you don't, and how that can be a contributing factor toward people saying hateful things about fandom topics. It was the quickest of the finished drafts sitting around to edit, so it was being queued, that's all! I do not think you were being pushy about your likes to "deserve" this, and frankly, even if you had? One's meme/resource/help blog is not the venue for shitting on your friends.

Okay, just wanted to clarify, everyone is stressed and feeling judged enough, I don't want to inadvertently contribute to that with any drafted posts!

I'm really sorry this happened, Anon. I don't mean that in a passing, flippant way that looks good on my blog. Not that I mean anything that way lol but I frequently have had "friends" in the past who felt like it was totally fine to reblog, even make original posts, like what you're talking about. Anti-fandom, anti my part of the fandom, my muses, my takes, and so on. Really hurtful things when we'd spoken in DMs about how upsetting it was, then they go and throw full support behind it in front of me.

It would be irritating with a grain of betrayal if it was a friend of a shorter time, or a mutual one doesn't really interact with OOC, but with a closer or longtime friend, it's actively hurtful. It feels like they looked you right in the face, said they do not give a single shit about either what is important to you or sparing your feelings, and went on. Yeah, it's just fiction, but the way we treat each other over fiction is real.

Given the behaviors displayed openly, it's not a shock you received no apology. Whether you got an apology or not, though, good on you for trying to bring it up to them! It's hard to do that with friends, even ones you're more certain won't blow up at you for it. I think if we could all be a little more (calmly, nicely, reasonably) open with each other like this, we could avoid problems that result from things festering and piling up, but it's hard to take that step...and I'm sorry this was your reward for it.

Just as blogs that are not one's RP or personal blogs shouldn't be openly judging and hating fandoms like that, friends shouldn't leave you feeling like you're walking on eggshells.

And, I'm going to say something unpopular here - sometimes, we all are capable of doing that to people we care about. Bad moments in lives combine, there are misunderstandings, sensitive topics, and things we can't entirely control otherwise. I don't like this idea tumblr has that anything other than a perfect, sweet, forever-cheery relationship is the actual height of abuse, so I want to be clear on that because it's just trivializing and blinding people to the possibility of toxic and abusive interactions. When you think "toxic" means "they don't like x, I love x, we don't talk about it," you're not aware of legitimate signs like being too worried to be yourself around them.

It's when this is the typical, established behavior that it's a problem. It's when there's never any meaningful acknowledgment, apology, or attempt at changing that it's a problem. If you constantly feel like you have to be worried about what a friend is going to say or do, it's not a friendship you need to be in, and I'm glad you recognized that and got out of it!

But there's also the idea that this is easy because it's the right and logical choice. It is not, and it's often made even harder because admitting to other friends that you miss the good times with the former one is all but impossible. They're often only reacting out of concern for you, the fear that if you miss this person they watched hurt you, you'll go back to that friendship, but it effectively shuts down a more healthy way of dealing with your feelings by sharing them with better friends who could support you.

So, Anon, it's also fully alright and normal to miss Raven! They were a longtime friend, and the thing about these kinds of friendships, these kinds of relationships in general, is that we seem to fail to realize that if things were straight awful from day one, we'd not have been friends. Of course, there are memories! Of course, you have the impulse to send them a link or that meme you know is their humor! It doesn't stop for a long time, either. That doesn't mean you're fucked up for it, it's something to be ashamed of, or that you're going to drop your better judgment and go send Raven a message immediately and rekindle that friendship. It's okay!

This right here: "I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude." This is the place you should be in, and I congratulate you on being there because it takes a lot of shit heaped on someone by a friend to get there. Just keep remembering the good things you experienced with them, but always with this in mind, that their end of the friendship appears to have been predicated upon what they were getting out of it only.

Case in point, like everything they displayed to the whole damn RPC that encountered them these last few months, their personal interest and viewpoint was of greater importance to them with that anti-fandom post than a friend was.

I will say, it can be a delicate thing having this blog. I have opinions and takes that most of my friends share, what's important to me tends to run in the same lines as what is important to them, that's the basis of a lot of our friendship. We still disagree! We still have different interests, fandoms, favorite characters, songs, and experiences. Sometimes, I have to address a problem that they could misconstrue, in a totally normal and reasonable way, because while they're not doing whatever in a bad way, others are. I've made a point, more than once, to contact them and talk about it a little preemptively, and that's not just to keep up friendships, it also allows for extra insight from them and better phrasing from me so that other people I don't know won't take it the wrong way either.

Yes, I have some immutable, incredibly hard lines lol I think we all know what most of them are now, but expressing my purely personal opinion on something like fandom is not more important on this blog than anything else. I may genuinely feel like there is diseased connective tissue of disappointing behavior stemming from an origin point in a popular fandom, I'm not going to go off about it on this blog. It's inappropriate as hell, going to make people feel isolated and targeted whether they're my friends or not. Being passionately displeased about that does not have place here, and that's the kind of thing you have to consider, reconsider, force yourself to shut up about when you've got a blog that isn't for RP or a personal, you know?

I don't think everyone is cut out for doing that, and no one is cut out for doing it without ever making a mistake in judgment. Some people really should simply realize that there is nothing wrong with not being in the place in their lives or mental health to put that much effort into being fair or being quiet and concentrating only on memes. If you're one of those people, random reader? I'm serious, it's okay if you can't do it! It's not shameful, I'm also a deeply flawed human being, the quietest, politest, helpful meme blog out there is also run by a flawed human, they're just at a different place with themselves than you are. And. That's. Okay. Just don't hurt other people (and yourself, ultimately) by forcing it, please.

I suppose, knowing that it wasn't important enough to chill and reevaluate for the sake of a friend is some consolation lol what one won't do for friends definitely won't be done for random muns deemed problematic. So, maybe that'll make some other people out there feel a little better, and I thank you for sharing...as much as I wish you had nothing of this experience to share. I know it's an unpleasant one to have had, and I hope you have much better friends!

I promise you that I'll never post anything here that is viciously against any particular fandom or any such thing, and that if you feel like I've been unfair about anything at all, I welcome polite messages as a way of discussing it so we can all be clear and/or learn from each other. I know, I openly admit, it's kind of a draw of the blog, that I have a...um, tone of salt about things lol and sometimes, I don't phrase things the way they deserved. So, it's always okay to drop in for clarification or counterpoint, so long as it isn't being done with a shitty attitude that incites hostilities. Let's do have a legitimate conversation about it instead of hurt feelings!

Thanks again, Anon!

#vespertine #answered #anonymous #fandom #toxic friendships #drama cw

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keytomythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Eleutheromania | Chapter 03

Chapter Index

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

Ｌｕｃａｓ

A day never went by where I wasn’t thinking of Jaeun, longing to be with her. Even if it was for just a second, it would be more than enough to feel her touch, to see her beautiful face. The way her emerald gems would light up when she smiled, or how the corners of her eyes slightly crinkled when she laughed. God, did she have an amazing laugh.

Looking down at my phone at the messages we exchanged only a few minutes ago, I can’t help the smile that comes to my face despite the pang in my chest. I know it isn’t fair of me to keep asking her to wait, but this is the only way where I can guarantee her safety. I’m lucky my captain is so understanding of the situation I’m in, allowing me to contact my girlfriend even when outside contact is essentially forbidden. Even going as far as stalling for me, a mere soldier. I’m forever in his debt, a great one.

“Was that enough time, Lieutenant Wong Yukhei?”

Upon hearing my legal full name, I immediately rise to salute the man whose voice I recognize far too well. Quickly pocketing my device, I look straight ahead and see my superior officer standing a few feet away from me still clad in his military gear and vest. Captain Lee Taeyong, the army’s finest and youngest captain to ever surpass through the rankings of previous men that served in the army. Like me, he was drafted relatively early, but it was a year prior to mine. Rumors of him spread during my first few months of enrollment. Naturally, I was intimated of the male and found myself even more motivated to leave a good impression on my senior. Yet, that didn’t seem to be necessary. Though his dark brown eyes shone with flames of fierceness and his words held such command in his tone, he had a big heart. A side often shown to very few. It’s lucky that I’m one of them.

“Yes, Captain, more than enough. Thank you, Sir. I’m truly grateful.”

The blonde instantly smiles. “At ease, soldier.”

I lower my hand back to my side, a small sigh escaping my lips. Raking a hand through my coarse hair, I sit back down on the bench away from my barracks. The evening air had gotten much cooler, considering the sun had set only a few minutes ago.

Even so, I still continue to think of her.

“Taeyong,” I start, his title being lost as the emotions slowly start to cloud my judgment.

His head jerks up, signalling his full attention.

“What do I do?”

Perplexed, the older male walks closer, setting himself down right next to me.

“About what, Lucas? Is something wrong?”

Worry isn’t something us soldiers are used to when talking to our superiors, whether they be the ones overseeing our regiment or facilitating the entire force. But Taeyong had always looked out for me. Sensing the concern in his tone and furrowed brows, I almost want to take it back. But knowing Taeyong, he would just beat it out of me until I told him enough.

And despite our four-year age gap, I found myself trusting of him. It wasn’t only me, though. It was for Taeyong as well. We didn’t see each other as senior-junior; rather, we were just two men trying to survive in this city of blinding truths and warped lies.

“It’s just,” I pause, choosing my words carefully, “day after day, I find it hard to fulfill my duties. I question when this will be all over so that I can go back home to—”

“To your girlfriend, yeah?”

My mouth closes, but my head nods in affirmation. I sigh deeply. “This guilt, Taeyong, it’s eating at me..”

I drop my head into my hands, the confusion, despair, and longing all creeping up on me, like bottles of ink spreading to corners of a canvas before drawing it in a pool of black. I didn't know what to make of this, but I realized that I had to straighten myself if I ever wanted to see Jaeun again.

Just then, I feel a hand rest firmly against my shoulder. I glance to see Taeyong with a somber expression, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Lucas, this isn’t your fault. Neither is it hers. You just have to hang on, okay?” He gives my shoulder a slight squeeze before letting go.

“But what if I can’t?”

Taeyong leans back against the bench, his face angled towards the now dark sky. Above us, stars had already begun to scatter and shine across the darkness. The twinkling reminds me of Jaeun’s smile, and the way her eyes would sparkle when I told her how much I loved her. And when she told me the same thing back.

Shit, I miss her so freaking much.

He sighs. “You’ll find a way, Lucas. As much as it pains me to say this, there’s not much you can do given the situation you’re in.” He pauses briefly to scour the area for any soldiers nearby, which there weren’t. Then he continues, slowly. “If they do catch on to your relationship with Jaeun, you know how it’ll end, don’t you?”

I shudder picturing Jaeun’s lifeless body and my own, both of us incapable of reaching each other. Not being able to cherish each other’s embrace, not getting a chance to whisper words of love and comfort to one another. To not be able to see the face I’ve grown to love so much over the years.

“I know.” My shoulders slump, hands going up to grab my coal-like strands out of frustration. “God, I know, but this—I can’t help but feel so lost, Hyung.”

I hear Taeyong shift slightly, a hand passing through his hair. “When I first entered the military, it was the same. I resented the fact that I was chosen early. That I had to leave my life behind. And for what? Just so I could please the rulers’ wealthy asses?”

Hearing that, I snort. Of course he wouldn’t. None of us who really understand what it means to live in this sectored city would be so willing to give up their own lives for this cause. It just didn’t make sense. Yet, here we are, resenting the state we’re in because of the higher-ups looking down at us like dogs. Their very own dogs of the military who would answer their calls at any time.

It makes me sick.

He continues, “Lucas, you and I both know how unjust and shitty this system is. They fear rebellion, which is why they keep us in check like this.”

I feel my hands slide down to my lap as my head slowly lifts back up. I know far too well what it would mean for this city to undergo a rebellion. Whatever check-and-balance system they made to keep things in order would come crashing down. Thousands of civilians will be swept up in this byproduct of anger and war. People would turn against one another, questioning just how long they had been fooled with the illusions of a lavish life in one of the largest prospering cities in the world. In short, it would be catastrophic.

After all, it happened once before. What’s to stop another one from occurring?

“To hell with this city and it’s shit rules. This isn’t some show they can watch from the comfort of their homes.” Another sigh. “Hyung, this isn’t fair.”

Taeyong lets out an airy laugh. “It’s exactly why I look out for you. I know you share the same ideal as me. I empathize with you greatly, Lucas, I really do, but this is something you have to get through. If it ever means getting out of here, there’s no other way.”

I nod approvingly, letting his words sink in. I guess there really is no other way..

Suddenly, he turns to me, his eyes as hard as stone. That gaze fixed with resolve. “But, I swear on my life, I won’t let them do to you what they did to me. If I can, and am able to, I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

“But, Hyung, that means—”

“Don’t mind what it means. Just accept this as my promise to you. So long as you promise to continue hanging on.”

“The only way is—”

“This is an order from your captain, Lieutenant Wong,” he drops the informality in his tone effortlessly, “I won’t repeat myself.”

Glancing at him, even in the dark, I can see the fire in his sea green orbs. The glint of superiority pushing past the compassionate person I was talking to just moments before.

Now I know. This is why he is feared and respected so much.

Which is why in this situation, I only nod, the words suddenly lodged in my throat. Talking back to him in this state only meant death. And I didn't want to die just yet.

“Good,” he rises from the bench and runs a hand through his streaks of blonde before stuffing them in his pockets. He glances at the sky once before turning to me.

“Come on, it’s our turn to make rounds today.”

“Right,” I reply curtly. Standing up, I fix my dark maroon uniform before walking behind Taeyong who had already started moving away from the barracks and towards the main base. Even as I follow the captain to areas of the base I’ve become accustomed with in the years already spent here, I can’t help but think of his last few words. Surely he knew what that meant, right? There’s only one way, only one circumstance, where I would be granted pardon from my duties.

But the cost..

Shaking my head, I look up to realize I’ve slowed my pace and now am far from where I was supposed to be a while ago. Quickening my steps, my thoughts continue to consume me until I make out Taeyong’s figure from the tent’s oil-lamp.

Taeyong, you can’t really be considering that…

The captain turns to me, a small grin etched in his face. And even as I return the expression, the inner turmoil only seems to grow.

Right?

Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 |

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years ago

Text

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 8493

Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fanfiction #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meeting #mysnowbazfic

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bittysvalentines · 5 years ago

Text

Would That I

From: @lizards-online

To: @pieandpucks

Sometimes in life, things are missed. Opportunities are lost, but as a whole we cannot stop moving. Still, something feels left behind, dropped in a time before. We keep going, with something lost and something gained, until life gives us our chance again,to take destiny’s chance to reconnect and find what is lost.

At Samwell University resided one Dr. Jack Zimmermann, a professor of history with an affinity for ice sports and queer literature. His smile was kind and his hair was just beginning to hint at touches of grey. He was a hard grader, and his readings were long, but his passion for teaching and his love of his students always showed through in his work. Students left his classes better thinkers, harder workers, and with only the smallest crush on him. Okay sometimes, not so small. Even the straightest of men recognized that Dr.Jack Zimmermann was a resident hottie. Rumor had it that he was voted “Samwell’s Most Gorgeous” four years straight back in the day.

Jack shuffled a few papers at his podium so as to get them in order before the end of his lecture. “Everyone, thank you for your attention today, just remember if you want to earn some extra credit points, you can attend one of the alumni guest lectures that will be on campus this weekend, and then write a one page response on the speaker’s topic and your thoughts. I’ll be popping in to a couple of the speakers myself, so if you see me, don’t be afraid to say hello.”

Jack began walking across the front of the classroom, dispersing flyers advertising the Alumni Symposium to be passed back.

A student in the back of the room raised her hand, staring down at the flyer in her hand “Dr. Zimmermann, when did you graduate Samwell?”

Jack paused for a moment. “2015. Why?”

“Well, I was just looking at the graduation year of some of these alumni, and it says here Eric Bittle Graduated in 2017. So that means you were only two years ahead of Eric Bittle when he went here!”

The class erupted in murmurs and comments. Eric Bittle was one of Samwell’s most famous alumni. He led Samwell to the Frozen Four his senior year, while being the first out NCAA hockey captain, was drafted by the Falconers and was the first openly LGBT+ player in the league. He won the Stanley Cup his rookie year (first of many) along with the Calder and Art Ross. Even outside of hockey he was famous for his witty vlog which evolved from a cooking vlog to a hockey, cooking and life blog with now over 18 million followers from all walks of life.

Jack swallowed hard. Yes, it was true, his time at Samwell and Eric Bittle’s time did overlap by two years, and in fact, during those two years, he ran into Eric all the time. They were...friends. Shitty made sure of that. Jack would watch the hockey team’s games, not only to support Shitty, but to watch Eric weave and maneuver across the ice unlike anyone else. Even though Jack had decided against playing in college, he never did lose his love of the game. Meanwhile Eric would hover about the library doing anything but homework when Jack was working. Plus, the semester they took a class together was definitely a bonding experience. But it had been a long time since they had spoken. After Jack graduated, he felt too awkward reaching out to someone who he had a massive crush on but was WAY out of his league. And when one month turned into two, and then one year turned into five, and five years into a decade, Jack had trouble remembering where all the time had gone.

“Hah. Uh, yes he was two years younger than me. We had a class together once.” Jack decided firmly against mentioning his large crush on the blond to his entire History 336 Seminar.

The students in the room all lamented about how cool it was that their professor knew a celebrity.

Jack closed the door to his office and scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh. Would it be awkward to see Eric again? Would Eric even remember him? Probably not. It was just a youthful crush. Even if Eric was still as attractive and charming and wonderful as he was back in the day, Jack was far past his prime. He could just not go to that lecture, but he felt drawn to it, as if something wanted him to see Eric speak. Jack picked up his phone and dialed the most recent number. It picked up on the first ring.

“What the FUCK is up Zimmermann, to what do I owe the pleasure of one of your rare and coveted calls? Are you in legal trouble? Did you kill someone? Did you kick a goose and now you’re losing your Canadian citizenship?” Shitty was Jack’s best friend. He was boisterous and energetic but genuine nonetheless. His words washed over Jack with a wave of excitement and familiarity.

“Haha Shits. I’m good. And no, no geese, at least not this time. I was just wondering, would you want to come down to Samwell this weekend? There’s an alumni symposium going on, and I think you’d enjoy the speakers.”

“Ah ha old Jackabelle misses me. Of fuckin course I’ll come down to the symposium, but I’ll warn ya man I’m not gonna sit through more than ONE old white man talk. ONE. Who's the lineup anyway?”

“I can forward you the flyer but just off the top of my head: there's the current head of the English department, Dr. Masawa, she’s gonna be talking about her book, um Dr. Atley is going to present some research, and um, Eric Bittle is going to be there.”

“Bitty fucking Bittle? The myth, the man, the legend himself? Well fuck my ass and call me chicken we HAVE to go to that. It’s been like FOREVER since I’ve seen Bits. What a fucking beaut. We texted a bit last month but it's been like a year and some since I last got to hang with him. You know he’s got a daughter now?”

“Oh. Uh, no?” A daughter. Jack’s head spinned. He knew he didn’t have a chance with Eric but he didn’t realize that Eric had gotten married and had a kid. That would’ve been big news right? Was Jack really that out of the loop? He needed to read the news more.

“Yeah she’s fuckin adorable as fuck. Like, two, three now maybe? He posts pictures of her on Facebook like all the time.”

“That’s uh pretty cool. Listen Shits, I have to go I have a, uh, book to read. I’ll see you this weekend. You can stay at my place. Text you bye.”

“Bye Jac-” Jack hung up the phone before Shitty could fully say goodbye. Why did he feel like there was a pit in his stomach? He didn’t care that Eric Bittle was a married father. So what? It’s not like he had a chance with him anyway. What would he have done? Gone up to him after his speech and say “Hello, I had a crush on you in college, and then we never talked after I graduated. Want to go on a date?” Even if Jack had had the confidence to do so, it was literally impossible now because Eric was a married father, a professional hockey player, celebrity, and an A Level hottie. All Jack had was a doctorate, a wall of books and a million papers to grade. He wasn’t even in the shape he had been in when he was in college, so really, he didn’t have anything to offer. Jack should just shut out all the fantasies of those big brown eyes, and golden hair, and gorgeous toned legs. Gosh what was he doing?

Jack crossed the room and slumped into his chair behind his desk and picked up a stack of papers sitting on a chair beside the desk. The best way to distract himself was to drown in work.

Eric Bittle woke up at 6 a.m. Saturday morning to the sound of his daughter crying. He was tired and sore from his game the night before, and a bruise was starting to form on his left thigh due to a nasty check from a Bruins defenceman but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Eric threw off his sheets and rushed into his daughter’s room. Allie was just about two and a half years old, and was in the midst of potty training. Unfortunately for him, Eric was also in the middle of the thralls of hockey season so a lot of the potty training fell on her daycare teachers. Being a single parent was tough. When his cousin Elizabeth had passed away, leaving her and her partner’s daughter to him, he had no idea what to do. He had been five years into his professional hockey career, out, single and totally unprepared for the hurdles of parenthood.

He pushed open the door to the nursery to find his daughter sitting upright whimpering. “Oh you poor thing. Looks like we’re going to have to get you changed real quick now aren’t we Miss Allie?”

Eric brought her to the changing table and cleaned her and dressed her for the day. It was a little earlier in the morning than he had planned, but he needed to get a move on to get to Samwell in time for his guest lecture. Eric had reached out to his old advisor and she recommended him an education major who would be glad to watch his daughter while he spoke and mingled, not wanting to be away from her for the entirety of his day off. He dressed her in cute bunny socks and a yellow shirt and white pants. She was just about the cutest thing in the world. Soon Eric himself got dressed, packed a diaper bag and headed out.

On his way Eric’s thoughts winded through his head. It had been quite some time since he’d been back to his alma mater. Samwell had been such an influential and formative place for him. From developing his hockey skills to coming into his own as a gay man. And even though he never did have a long lasting romantic relationship, the friendships he made there pushed him through his life and helped him become who he was. Thinking back to some of the people, he thought about the boys, Lardo, some of the other team captains, and his mind landed on one Jack Zimmermann.

Eric had always had such a massive crush on Jack, with his boyband bangs, his droopy eyes, jaw that could cut glass and a behind that would give greek statues a run for their money. Eric had first met Jack through Shitty, but then subsequently kept running into him in the dining hall, gym and then one semester for a class. Jack would come to their games and Eric would watch him stack books in the campus library while he pretended to do homework, but always ended up back at the circulation desk, talking about everything and nothing until it closed. They had been friends, and Eric had had the largest crush on earth on the sad-eyed Canadian. But Jack was way out of Eric’s league. He had been voted Samwell’s Most Beautiful for four years straight, and suitors were constantly trying to ask him out. And then Jack graduated, leaving Bitty yearning for what could have been. According to Shitty, Jack was a professor at Samwell, but the two hadn’t really kept in contact. After the fact, there had been some boys, some boyfriends, even some hookups, but nothing lasting more than a few months at a time. At 30 years old Eric Bittle had never been in a relationship longer than 9 months.

The sight of Samwell pulled Eric out of his thoughts and Eric shook his head. He had things to do, and he wasn’t going to let ghosts from the past distract him from his job today: to speak about Samwell, sports, and his activism.

Jack entered the packed auditorium with Shitty in tow. He smiled and waved to a few of his students while Shitty was speaking as if he was a physical manifestation of stream of consciousness. They took their seats in the front row reserved for faculty, staff and alumni.

“I wonder what he’s gonna talk about. I hope he brings up all the swawesome shit the SMH did. Like that one kegster when-”

“Wait Shits shhh there he is” Jack cut Shitty off.

Eric Bittle walked onto the stage with a mic affixed to his shirt. He wore tight fitting navy blue slacks that highlighted just how well the NHL had bulked him up. His top two shirt buttons were unbuttoned on his white and navy blue patterned shirt. The sleeves were rolled up ¾ of the way showing off the definition in his arms. Jack’s throat immediately went dry with his face getting more red as the moments ticked on.

Fuck. Eric Bittle was even hotter than he remembered and was a million times more attractive in person than he had been in promotional pictures. And his voice, the accent was so cute! Keep it together Zimmermann, that’s a married man. Jack was going to have a hard time sitting through this entire speech.

Fuck. Eric walked on stage, scanning the audience and almost immediately his eyes landed on one Jack Zimmermann. He was wearing a tweed jacket, with glasses and his hair was just a touch grey. Time had been very kind to Jack. Eric’s throat became dry as he stumbled his way through his introduction. Shit Jack was in the front row. How was Eric going to concentrate when the hottest man in the world was right in front of him, watching him speak for an hour and a half.

Clapping. Jack was clapping. He zoned back in after having not actually comprehended a single word for the past 90 minutes. He had just sat and stared at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and tried not to get a boner. Shitty was speaking to him. Jack needed to respond.

“Yeah. He does look good in those pants” Shit. Probably not what Shitty asked him.

“Not what I was talking about, but yeah you know what now that you mention it, mother fucker looks fresh as fuck! I gotta fuckin tell him those pants are doing it for him.” Shitty bolstered himself out of his chair, and up the steps and onto the stage where some faculty were gathering to congratulate him on his speech. Jack followed.

“Eric Mother fucking Bittle” Shitty bellowed as he walked, Jack close behind, to where Eric stood, now holding a young baby girl on his hip as he spoke with alumni and faculty alike.

Eric turned to face the two men and smiled. “Shitty B. Knight you best not be swearing around my daughter like that. And Jack, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile.”

“Fuck yeah it has been. You two were adorable back in the day. You should’ve kept touch more!” Shitty laughed.

Jack smiled awkwardly. “Yeah it has been a bit hasn’t it? I’m sorry I never kept touch. Congrats on the hockey, and the Stanley Cup, and the marriage and uh, kid.”

Eric’s face twisted into a confused half smile. “Marriage? Jack Zimmermann I am not married. I was her godfather. Life happened and now I’m her Daddy.” Eric looked at her, and kissed her forehead softly.

Jack’s brain short circuited. Not...married? “Oh so are you…”

“No I’m not seeing anyone. I’m doing quite fine with her all by myself.” Eric blushed.

“Okay I see where this is going, I’m gonna back out of this convo..” Shitty etched away from the two men. The latter hardly noticing.

Jack awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “In all honesty, Eric, remember all those years ago, when we went to Samwell together. I had the biggest crush on you, but you were so out of league I never did anything about it. I should have, but I was a bit of a coward.”

Eric’s face turned a bright shade of pink as he stammered out a response. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann! You had a crush on me back then? I’ll have you know I pined for you for two whole years thinking you were straight until someone told me YEARS later that you weren’t, and then when I did realize you were an option, I never thought in a million years that you would be in my league anyway. You’re meaning to tell me you had a crush on me that entire time?”

Jack blushed furiously. “We both had crushes on eachother I guess. I’m sorry I never made a move on you back then. If it means anything, I’d like to uh make one now.”

“Well how about our timing. Gladly Jack. Here, ” Eric pulled out his phone with one hand, careful not to disturb Allie, and handed it over to Jack. “ text me.”

Jack put his number into the phone and texted himself. “In the meantime, would you like to catch up? It’s been a long time.”

Unbeknownst to the two men, several students stood by in shock, watching their professor flirt with and score a date with a literal celebrity. Two in the front high fived. “Get it Dr. Zimmermann!”

#bittyjack #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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sam-roulette · 4 years ago

Note

13 for the book thing

(13. Least favorite book this year

Genocide on the Infinite Express. Oh my God I can barely contain my hatred of this book because like the initial premise is actually pretty fuckin fascinating! A man with no memory wakes up on an infinite train which never ends, and appears to be the only living person on board; all other passengers are alternate versions of the protagonist and all other versions are dead.

TWs up ahead for instances of racism, sexism, mentions of rape, incest, etc

There’s spoilers too but also like. I don’t actually care about spoiling this. I heartily recommend you Do Not read this book

I’ll give the book credit where credit’s due- the way the protagonist and then love interest (the only living female version of himself, which :/ wasn’t too interesting) navigate the train is interesting. The environment of the infinite train is fascinating; they have to use the length of the windows lining it to figure out the distance they’ve traveled and the train itself is full of fascinating ways to distort a human body. Then about a quarter of the way into the book it all goes downhill with the first of two bad and out of place highly uncomfortable sex scenes. After that, it never recovers and gets worse from there.

The sole female character is characterized as hypersexual but only hypersexual in the way that male authors who you can tell are really getting off on this are, so that the author can turn around and pat himself on the back for writing such a liberated character. The book gets weird, no question about that, but it’s never in the fun weird way of Flesh Molder’s- it’s usually just in the weird way where you can tell the author doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. Like with Flesh Molder’s, there was a logical throughline with the weirdness- you take a shit ton of fat off of a human body with a mysterious power you barely understand and there’s enough biomass that it comes to life as a flesh homunculus, you have your secret sinister organization going after you because its founder wants to live forever, that kind of thing.

While not necessarily knowing where you’re going worldbuilding wise can be fine and leaves room for interesting ideas to grow, any remotely interesting idea in Infinite Express is so inconsequential and minute that it either doesn’t affect the plot or it just moves on to the next thing. Like oh, you’ve introduced a steampunk robot version of the protag who comes from an alt-reality where robots really did take over? Alright, yeah! Oh, you’re just gonna use him to make a “pack of pet Mexicans” joke and then have the female love interest pull all three of the sole living characters into a threesome before the “finale” just because she feels the end of the book is coming and wants to do it amongst dozens of dead bodies? Unyeah!

With Infinite Express, the author is just pulling shit out of his ass for shock value, rather than committing to the worldbuilding he’s set and trying to make it make sense. Literally. Because towards the end they have to enter the giant ass of another version of the protagonist and crawl through his internal organs to reach what they think is the end of the story. And after that grossness, the author Literally Gives Up. The book, which thus far was a fairly straightforward narrative, suddenly splits into Four Fucking Endings (one of which has MASSIVE TWs for rape, cannibalism, incest, and literally every badwrong thing you can think of, for no reason whatsoever. the author didn’t put any in I’m just warning you) and in the last, the author himself, characterized as sitting by his keyboard trying to figure out an ending, is deadass like “yeah I didn’t know how to end this but I like meta stuff so :)” before literally taking out his dick, jacking off onto the keyboard he is using to write the book, and then using the spent jizz drying on the keys to make some half-baked speech about the multiverse. And then on the last page, oh no! He’s woken up on the train, and he has no memory!

Like fuck out of here with that dude, you used up all the good will you could have had with that concept back when we were still learning about the love interest. You don’t get to do a cheeky “ooooooh it all repeatssss” ending when the rest of what leads up to it is genuinely so shitty?? Like oho, you’re so self-aware, you’re literally jacking off onto your own art, isn’t that just self-aware of the pretension, and like okay but if you’re so self aware that this is shit and that you were just being pretentious for no good reason why didn’t you just write a better book? Like if you’re so aware that the tropes and content of your book aren’t good, why publish it without trying to even make a few drafts or trying to make the weirdness coherent? And further, why even add the 4th “the author literally masturbates to his own work which you are now holding” ending at all when it genuinely just is not a good look?

“I want to explore meta storytelling” yeah bitch us too, that’s literally no excuse for not having a good story and then for having the audacity to charge $17 for it. Like maybe if I’d gotten this book for 5 bucks at the bargain bin I could’ve been arsed to be kinder to it, but no! I got this shit off amazon because the goodreads reviews up to that point were glowing! Guess I should’ve known better than to trust reviews that amount to “5 stars this is sooooo wacky and weird all the way 🤪🤪🤪” without any kind of mention for the contents of the book but man. Just my luck huh

#sam tag #asks #racism tw #sexism tw #rape ment #incest ment #im not graphic on the details but like :/

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smileyjaeminies · 5 years ago

Text

Rocky Waters

Synopsis: A new person, a new relationship, breaks the delicate balance of an old friendship.

Word Count: 2,6 k

Genre: Bestfriend au!, side boyfriend au!, slight angst

Warnings: None

Member: Jinyoung, Yugeom

A/N: I wrote this for a friend very special to me. The characters have changed a little from the first draft but that’s okay. This person, like this work will remain the same no matter how much the world around us changes. I love you.

“JINYOUNG NO” you screamed at your best friend, running with your phone.

“Y/N YES” he screamed right back at you.

“PARK JINYOUNG IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME MY PHONE I SWEAR-” you keep chasing him around campus.

“I’M GONNA TEXT HIM, I WILL” he threatened.

He was talking about your new crush. This boy, Kim Yugeom, had just transferred to your school. He had suddenly walked into class one morning, with his chocolate brown hair and his warm smile and you had been smitten ever since. You happened to also have multiple classes with him, even having been paired up for a project together, which is also why you happened to have his number.

However, Jinyoung texting him out of the blue would be a step too far. Sure you had talked about a thing or two before a class and even texted a bit, but he seemed mostly interested in the project and you weren’t about to be “that girl”. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what type of girl that was, but you weren’t it.

You finally caught up to Jinyoung. Managing to grab a handful of his shirt and pull him back. That made you both stumble and fall down, him on top of you. The fight was not over though. You pushed him off of you and tried to go for your phone. He was quick to react, putting your phone on his other hand and rolling off from under you.

You gave out a war cry and finally grabbed your phone. You pushed Jinyoung back to the floor.

“DID YOU TEXT HIM?” you shouted.

You were suddenly aware you were making a scene in the middle of campus and that made you really self-conscious. You felt yourself visibly shrink back, you wanted to disappear, the attention was too much.

Jinyoung of course noticed the change in your attitude immediately. He got up and put his arm around you. You relaxed and allowed him to lead you back to your table with all your friends.

“I didn’t text him. I still think you should though. Even if he doesn’t want anything romantically, you could gain a new friend. Just think about it okay?” he asked and then sat down as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened.

That’s why you loved him. Jinyoung had been your friend for a long time. He knew exactly how to push your buttons and when to leave you be, when he should force you out or join you for a movie marathon.

You wanted to listen to him, you really did, but you just couldn’t be sure what Yugeom wanted right now. Maybe you should just go with the flow for a while.

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” one of your friends asked.

You glanced at Jinyoung, who just smiled back at you innocently. You were aware you had a lecture in fifteen minutes but you let it pass and sat back down.

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

“This is never going to end” you whined to Jinyoung who was sitting opposite you.

“What is?” He asks without lifting his eyes from his laptop.

“This stupid project… I hate it, I’ve done so much work and I still have like a million words to go” you keep whining.

You were sitting at the library, both trying to get work done and both failing miserably. Projects had been piling up for the both of you and the only way to spend some time together was study dates, so that was exactly what you were doing.

“What is this project on again?” He asks, taking his attention from his work and on you.

“World War I and its effects on Europe” you answer him.

“Wow that’s so boring” he says.

“Yeah, thanks for the input Jinyoung. Truly appreciate that.” You tell him sarcastically.

“Let’s go” he tells you, already beginning to pack his things.

“Go where? It’s not even 7 yet, we have to continue-” you start.

“We aren’t getting any work done anyway, let’s go do something fun, let off some steam and then we can continue tomorrow morning.” He cuts you off.

What he was saying did make sense. You could recharge for a bit and then resume the next morning. You had to agree with him.

“Where are we going? And who are you texting?” you ask him.

“Well, what we need is fun, so karaoke night it is. And, I’m just texting the usual gang, Jackson, Jaebum… You can tell your boyfriend to come too if you’d like.” He answers you.

“He is not my boyfriend!!” You tell him what he already knows.

In fact, you and Yugeom had gotten quite close through the course of your project. At your last study session (you refused to call those dates) he had been particularly touchy, and even kissed you when you left. Your heart soared and your mind was running a million miles per hour but you tried to remain cool about it.

You hadn’t hang out with him for almost a week though and you already missed him. You took your phone out and sent him a quick text.

YOU

Hey! Some friends and I are hitting the karaoke… Would you care to join us?

His reply came only few minutes later.

Kim Yugeom

Hi! This is just the distraction I needed! Text me the address!

Your heart rate picked up at his reply. This would be quite the night.

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

You and Jinyoung arrived at the karaoke bar earlier that everyone else. You slid into your booth and started fidgeting with your hands, your leg bouncing up and down, but you couldn’t keep still. Jinyoung played a soft ballad to calm your nerves. He sang into the mic and you started to relax.

At last your friends arrived, Yugeom being the last one. You smiled to him as he came in and he took a seat next to you. The night was filled with snacks and drinks, slow ballads and uplifting songs that made you scream the lyrics to each other’s faces.

It was just what you all needed. When you decided to call it a night, Yugeom offered to walk you home. Jinyoung basically shoved you out of the door. On the way to your dorms, Yugeom leaned down to kiss you again.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night” he whispers almost, as he brings your foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask in the same tone.

“I wasn’t sure what you were thinking… I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position in front of all your friends.” He says.

“Well, as long as you buy me chicken and milkshakes tomorrow night… I think we’re at a very good place” you say as you smile up at him, pulling on his hand so you could continue walking.

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

Mid-terms were so shitty. Just as you finished all your assignments and projects… It felt like you had to start all over again. Thank God, you were almost finished, having only one test on Monday to wrap it all up. It was currently Friday night and you had one single unit to finish before closing your books and getting a good rest.

As you were approaching the end of the unit, your phone interrupted you. You looked at the screen “The pain in my ass” was written with bold colors. You quickly picked up.

“Whaaaaat?” you dragged out.

“Nice to hear from you too, best friend” Jinyoung sassed from the other end of the line.

“Can I call you back? I have like 10 more minutes of work until I call it a night.” You ask.

Jinyoung paused for a little bit. “Okay” he said and hung up.

You start thinking that he was acting a bit weird… You push the thought aside. You are going to call him back in a bit to talk about it. You finally finish the unit and reach for your phone.

He picks up by the 3rd ring.

“What a pleasant surprise” he muses.

“Oh shut up, you knew I would call you back” you tell him.

“Did I? Did I know that?” he asks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you fire back.

“Oh I don’t know, it seems rare that you would remember me” he says, his tone accusatory.

“What is your problem Jinyoung?” you ask, tired of his antics.

“What is my problem? No. What is your problem Y/N? Ever since you got that boyfriend of yours you dropped everything else. Then mid-terms came round and that was just the cherry on top, of course you didn’t have time for your stupid best friend, you had to study. Well maybe I'm tired of waiting.” He finishes. Jinyoung rarely raised his voice, especially at you.

Tears had already welled up in your eyes. Was what he was saying true? Did you really neglect him that much? Sure, you weren’t stuck to the hip like you used to be but you didn’t think you were so much in the wrong.

“Jinyoung-” you started, your voice breaking but he cut you off.

“Don’t you go crying on me, because that’s not saving your ass. I want you to say you’re sorry and I want you to mean it. Just… Think of what you’ve done.” He says and immediately hangs up.

You finally break down.

You think and think, as you cry into your pillow. How much time did you spend with him? Were you really present when you were together? Did you say something, do something, to make him so angry?

You call one of your best friends. She’s known you and Jinyoung forever, she’ll know what to do.

When you finally hang up you are more confused than ever. Jinyoung? Jealous? Of Yugeom of all people? He was the one to push you into the relationship! This didn’t seem right.

You decide to text him anyway.

YOU

Jinyoung… I don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry if I neglected you, if I didn’t spend enough time with you, if I did something, said something. I’m sorry. Just tell me what it is and I’ll try to be better. I’m sorry. I love you.

You throw your phone on your bedside table and lie down. As you snuggle into your comforter, your phone dings, indicating his reply.

The pain in my ass

Of course you’re completely oblivious. Of course. Don’t bother Y/N. Just leave me alone for a while.

His reply breaks your heart. You turn into your pillow and sob.

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

Weeks pass. It has almost been a month since your fight. Since then Jinyoung obviously had done everything in his power to ignore you. He would never turn up when you and your friends hang out, he wouldn’t text or call you. When you happened to see him he would immediately put his head down and pretend like you weren’t there.

It broke your heart, it really did. He had been your best friend for years, and he couldn’t even give you a good enough explanation to why you were fighting.

You were sitting on your bed, binge watching “Peacky Blinders” yet again when your phone dinged beside you. The name that lit up the small screen made your heart skip a beat.

The pain in my ass

Hey. Can you come down for a minute? I need to see you.

You shot him a quick text back, grabbed the hoodie nearest to you, put on some sneakers and took the stairs three at a time. You arrived to the front of your dorm building to see Jinyoung dressed in sweatpants and a simple sweatshirt, holding a box of what looked like your favorite candy and a piece of paper in his hands. You opened your mouth to speak but he stopped you before you could.

“Don’t- Just don’t say anything. Let me finish first okay? Also try not to laugh. And let me read this through, see, I wrote it down” he tells you, showing you the piece of paper as proof and you swiftly nod. He takes this as his green light and after a deep breath he begins.

“I, Park Jinyoung, am indeed, a huge asshole. I have come to this conclusion after much thought and consideration from my part, but also after other people in my surroundings have pointed it out. The first person to call me an asshole was Hansol in kindergarten, when I took his new pencils to draw a dragon and accidentally broke them.”

“Since then, people have loved to remind me that I am, in fact, an asshole. But due to recent events I have realized it myself. I broke my best friends’ heart by holding onto my manliness while she was nowhere to blame. Only I and my stupid ego where at fault and yet I turned all my jealousy and built up anger and stress on her. It was a dick move. I regret it every day.”

“The truth is, my best friend is a beautiful person inside and out. She has a heart of gold, she would never hurt a fly. She is devoted beyond any other and she knows exactly how to take care of everyone. She is shy, but her smile lights up every room she’s in, she is terrified of horror movies but she still watches them with me.”

“Indeed, my best friend loves me very much. And I love her too.” He finishes reading and looks up at you. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I’m an asshole, I’m every name in the book. I was hoping you could forgive me. I don’t want to lose you Y/N, I really don’t, this past month has been hell for me and all I want-”

“Shut up” you cut him off, opening your arms and waiting for your hug.

“Are you serious?” he asks, unsure.

“I mean unless you don’t want to-” you drop your arms and turn to the door.

He picks you up and turns you around in the hug. You are both laughing and he keeps whispering “I’m sorry” in your neck. You reassure him that it’s okay, it’s fine, you’re both fine. He then suddenly stops and takes a step back.

“You don’t smell like you” he tells you.

You look down at the hoodie you threw on. It’s one of Yugeom’s.

“It’s-” you start.

“It’s Yugeom’s isn’t it?” he asks you. You simply nod. “Well we have a lot to thank him for besides keeping you warm.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask surprised.

“Well let’s just say he gave me the push that I needed to come and talk to you” he replies, smiling down at you.

You can’t believe Yugeom did something like that without even talking to you. Sure he had heard you rant about missing Jinyoung countless times but you didn’t expect him to reach out, to help you solve this.

You bury yourself in your best friend’s arms once again. These are your boys. And you were planning to keep them both close for a long time.

“What deodorant does he use?” Jinyoung asks against your hair and you groan loudly. “No, seriously, it smells nice!” he adds.

You push him slightly and you say: “You are an idiot Park Jinyoung”

His smile could light up the darkest sky when he replies: “I’m your idiot.”

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spinblue · 5 years ago

Text

—How I Run My Blog!

if it wasn’t obvious already, I literally cannot shut the fuck up ever. I also never heard of condensing. That is a foreign concept to me.

Speed Basically I’m as slow as Sonic is fast —

I wish I could do replies faster, but I just can’t? I have literally sat at my computer for hours trying to reply and it just doesn’t happen. I guess I gotta be in a certain mindset to do replies, but heck if I know what kind. awoienaoweawenawe

I just don’t want to give out shitty replies, and in order for my replies to not be downright awful I gotta work on them a lot aowienaowie it doesn’t come naturally to me at all.

Replies

I'm all for rping any lengths and mostly I just try to match my rp partner’s lengths, and try to keep in mind what it seems like they are comfortable with.

Which includes not going over, and I gotta tell you, there have been threads were I have deleted multiple paragraphs of my reply because I realize that not everyone is up for multiparagraphed (borderline novella at times) threads. I just physically do not know how to NOT ramble.

That being said, if I ever do go off in one of our threads — you don’t gotta match lengths. Just give me your best shot and it’ll be fine, I promise. I’m never counting paragraphs here.

Formatting is very minimal, with usually just one icon per reply. I try to reply more or less in order ( so I try to reply to the threads where I was given the reply first ) but, unfortunately my muse doesn’t work that way all the time, so I do skip around here and there. I apologize if you’ve been waiting for a reply for a long while, I promise it’s not because I don’t want to rp with you, but as I said, I am horrendously slow at all things.

Starters

I don’t usually post starter calls. I lack the creativity honestly aoweianwe But also I am usually super behind on replies as is so ( though then again, that doesn’t stop me from liking other people’s starter calls and inbox calls bc I am a fool )

I do inbox calls occasionally, though! Usually when I’m lacking muse for anything in my drafts but wanna do something small. These can absolutely turn into threads and can sort of be seeing as a super mini starter? Though they also do not have to turn into anything more than a one-off interaction. Usually I ask if it’s okay to reply to an ask answer before I reply to it.

Inbox

My inbox is always open! I am horrendously slow at answering asks too though. Gosh I’m a mess. But if you ever do have something you wanna send me, please do! I’ll get to it eventually I promise aowienaowe

I’m forever accepting any and all memes that I reblog! If you wanna interact with me but lack ideas/kinda shy, sending in a sentence prompt meme is probably the best way to start, tbh.

Though I’m also perfectly okay with unprompted asks being sent! Just send me anything and everything tbh

I’ll always be open to turning an ask that I answer into a full thread if you want to!

Selectivity

I’m semi-selective and completely mutuals only. I do wish I could rp with everyone, but as I have said for each of these sections bc it affects literally everything I do — I am horrendously slow.

I also like to keep my dash clean, so I may not follow back if there are a lot of non-rp related things reblogged. I also usually don’t follow back blogs that have no rules, though sometimes I make exceptions if I know the mun is someone chill.

If you break my rules, that’s an automatic I’m never going to interact, sorry. It just says to me that either you didn’t bother to read them in the first place, or you did read them but then decided to ignore it. Neither is great honestly.

Please respect people’s rules. They are there for a reason.

Wishlist ( some of these I have threads for already, but I always want more okay aoweinwe )

I want to do a thread with Sonic signing for most of it, for whatever reason.

Someone calling Sonic out on his bullshit and how he has royally fucked up in IDW. I want someone to actually blame him, resent him, because those were actual, real, people that were all affected just because Sonic wanted to play the ‘good guy’ and believe in the ‘good’ in people despite having every reason to not.

Sonic actually talking with someone and telling them how much he cares for them. I don’t see him as the mushy-talky kind of guy. He usually likes to speak with actions rather than words — but at the same time words can be powerful. And one day he’ll just have to let his friends know how much they mean to him.

Basically give me anything with soft.

I live for supportive Sonic who’s life advice is basically just to go for it. To smile, to run, because you do have the freedom to, you just gotta make use of it.

I’d like a thread where Sonic can just joke around too?? Like he’d poke fun at someone, be poked fun at back, and just be general little shits together. Just a small silly thread for the fun of it

A lot more but I have zero memory when I need it

Honest Note

Okay real talk for a sec, but I sit on replies for weeks, and yet I want to always create more threads??

There are times where I want to invade people’s dms and talk about ideas and such that I have and that I want to thread. But then I look at my drafts and see that I still owe a reply, and feel too guilty to ask for more aoweinawe

Also I’m awful at one-on-one conversation. I just??? Don’t have the capability of keeping conversations going aoiwenaewoaieniaw I have no idea how to. So if we have talked and the conversation just fades out on my end, I am so very sorry and i promise it’s not a sign that I don’t want to talk with you. I just fail at human interaction aoweianwewe

But I do want to get to know everyone that I follow. You all are awesome as heck alright.

Other than that, know that I adore you all a lot. It’s a lot of fun seeing everyone on dash! Whether you are doing ic stuff, or ooc things. Keep doing what you are doing, because you’re doing great just as you are!

#sometimes i look at what i write #see how long it got #and wonder just why #➟ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴇɴᴅ [ OOC ]#meme answer

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mylifeasevelyn · 5 years ago

Text

Orphan

Hello dear stranger, it’s me, Evelyn. Yeah, it’s been a long time... I’ve written a lot of drafts throughout the past couple of months, but I could never finish them or wrap my thoughts properly... until today.

The past 15 months have all been about rediscovering myself after breaking free from my abuser. I truly thought it was going to be an easy transition, but fuck no, it wasn’t. The first six months were shit ‘cause she kept trying to contact me and trying fuck me up psychologically, and the following months were confusing, to say the least. Too much shit went down and thanks to the few years of free therapy I got from my shitty university, I’ve been processing everything without resorting to self destruction in the process. Ever since I broke contact with my abusive mother/the demon who cannot be named/former wife to my dad, my father and I have been sort of trying to bond as father-daughter. We have never been truly close and I truly can’t remember why ‘cause I cannot remember my childhood or teenage years. My memory is hazy from back then due to all the abuse and trauma I endured at such a young age. Anyways, overall, my life was going from ugh to meh (depression much? Lol)

Shit started to hit the fan on October 30th, 2019. I remember that day clearly because of what happened the following day... anyways, I remember asking my shrink to give a call asap. Within 30 minutes she gave me a call. I was studying at the library at the time. I exited the place and made my way to the closest place where I could speak privately. Long story short, I told her my depression was making a huge return. I was slowly but surely losing interest in the things I was doing, regardless of my feeble attempts to keep myself sane in the process. After she hang up, I kept thinking about how I no longer had anything to fight for. No real sense of family, no real sense of friends, nada. Not even a fucking a pet to come back home and take care of or something (although having a pet while being in this mental state is not my kinda thing to do tbh.) It was in that moment that I remembered that over ten years ago, I used to work as a waitress to grab some cash to eventually travel to Buenos Aires and see My Chemical Romance live, which I did (hell yeah.) Fuck, but that shitty dream of seeing them live again had ended there when the band broke up. October 31st came and well, y’all know what happened already. Having them back shook my world and gave me another reason to keep fighting this mental illness and all the other bullshit I’m still going through. The following weeks became more bearable, but still, something wasn’t right. Another month went by. It was a Wednesday midnight, I was about to get to bed when I got a text from my father, back at it again with the suicidal thoughts. He’s done this for the last couple of years, the first time affecting me so bad that I had a panic attack (fyi, we live in different cities, I can’t just go and see him right away.) Again, thanks to therapy, I’ve learnt how to take a step back and see things with a better perspective. After reading his text, I once again took the role of parentified child and tried my best to comfort him, and insisting on him getting therapy. And as stubborn as he is, he said no and started making excuses and me, as patient and comforting as I know I can be, I kept telling him that I couldn’t always be there for him and it would make me feel more at ease if he would just freaking go and see a professional. I gave him links to read and find the right therapist for him and all that jazz. I also told him that if he wasn’t gonna do it for him, then he should at least do it for his daughter. The following day he sent me pictures of him having a great fucking time with his friends while I was here, back home, fucking worried. So yeah, damn right I got angry at him. I didn’t reach back to him until the following Monday ‘cause he kept texting me and I was getting annoyed by the endless I’m okay pictures he was sending me. I gently told him to back off and give me space. More months went by and we kept being in touch and seeing each other, pretending like it was all freaking peachy, as always. Believe the lie. Remember?

January 2020 came by and a friend told me she was going to see a Queen tribute band with his dad and I thought it would be a great opportunity for my dad and I to properly bond, since we’re both passionate about music. I invited him to the show and he said yes. Another month went by and we met again. I could tell something was off about him the moment he walked through my door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was doing my make up while he waited for me to be done. Mind you, we don’t talk much because he is a really quiet man when he is around me, my brother and his ex-wife. The moment he started talking I could tell he was venting, and I was carefully listening and responding when necessary. And that’s when he admitted to me that he was back to doing shady businesses with criminals. Since he knows I’m not a judgy person, he told me everything in detail. The more he told me, the more my body was becoming tense, to the point where I pulled a neck muscle. But my stomach truly turned when he told me, casually, that he had given my security number to a thug as “insurance”. The moment he said that, I remembered when he, a few weeks back, had asked for my security number and I asked why he needed it, and he said it was because he’d forgotten it. I was stupid and naîve enough to trust him and he straight up lied to me, yet again. Whenever fucked up shit like this happened, child me would become paralysed or mute. Hell, I used to stutter and mumble till age 13. My teachers were always nice to me about it ‘cause I was a good, responsible student. That’s all I can remember. So, it’s safe to say that I was in shock. He kept on talking and I could see my reflection in the mirror starting to change. Shit. Not a panic attack. Not now. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep my shit together. We left my apartment. I wasn’t feeling well. Something was wrong. I couldn’t process what had just happened. I was back to being a child. I couldn’t talk. I texted my shrink. It was an SOS moment. She couldn’t call me. Fuck. My mind kept telling me what happened is wrong, this is wrong... but what exactly_ is_ wrong? Why am I feeling this way? A couple of hours went by and I was able to block those thoughts from disrupting me. I slowly started chatting again. My father was unaware of what was happening. I’m pretty sure he thought I was grumpy or something. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me this way before, lol.Either way, he never asks about me, my life. It’s always been about him since we’ve officially “reconnected.” Well, the more I think about it, since forever.

Night time had finally come and it was time for the show. Things were still awkward between my father and me, but I was somehow more relaxed ‘cause I knew I was meeting my friend and her dad. They were late and my father and I were barely talking to one another, so I said fuck it, grabbed my phone and started checking my social media to make time go by faster. And alas, my friend and her dad finally made it. What a relief. I started feeling my usual self coming back. I was back to talking and being my usual goofy self. Unfortunately, my father was being an asshole, I cracked jokes and tried my best to include him in the conversation but he wouldn’t even laugh. He would just look away, so I retreated a bit and I went back to just being awkward with him. Right before the show started, there were two empty seats with a better view right next to were my friend was sitting, so my father suggested we should go and sit there instead. I gladly agreed. I changed seats right away. I looked back, he didn’t move an inch. Instead, he was signalling me what I think meant something like “yeah, yeah, go ahead” and at this point I was looking at him, confused. I was thinking: “dude, really? We’re supposed to be here and bond. Not sit three seats away from each other. Pff” My friend’s father was cool enough to change seats with my friend so that we could sit next to each other. So, there we were, from left to right: me, my friend, her father, and my father. At the moment, I remember telling my friend: “oh good, I hope they bond and have fun since they are almost the same age and wearing the same coloured t-shirts! Bahaha” The show went on smoothly. 10/10. But part of me was still keeping an eye on my father, making sure he was having a good time. My friend would check on him and tell me if he was having fun. As I predicted, he cried while singing his lungs out to Bohemian Rhapsody. Both him and I miss her deeply. His mother, my grandmother. Anyways, the show was over and I had to get back to my dad. The moment the lights were back on and I looked at him, I could tell he had been crying, so my stupid heart and empathic soul gave him a break and tried their best to get back on more friendly terms. Unfortunately, he was back to being unfriendly with the rest of us. So much so, that he grabbed my shoulder and moved me away from my friend and her dad. Again, it didn’t feel right when he did that. That feeling felt so familiar, but I couldn’t remember why... I eventually lost sight of my friend and we got lost in the crowd that was exiting the stadium. For a moment I stopped somewhere where there wouldn’t be a shit ton of people walking all over me and I turned around to see if I see if I could find them to at least say goodbye. My father was vocal again and told me to just keep going and I insisted on trying to find them. As you can guess, I had no luck finding them. Now it was time for me and him to go to each other’s home. At this point it was almost midnight and I had to get on a bus to go back. He insisted on taking me back home (40km away.) Had I found my friend, we would’ve gone back home together, as intended. The ride back home was filled by John Williams’ score of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I chose the music ‘cause at this point I had a headache and since I suffer from motion sickness and I was out of dramamine, I had to listen to my music. I tried making conversation and all I got back from him was “really”, “oh”, “yeah”, “oh, really?” and “oh, yes.” I was trying my best not to cry. The moment the score started playing A window to the past’s part in Mischief Managed! A memory came back. I used to lock myself up in my bedroom and play that song on loop while crying to drown out the sound of me sobbing. I also remember that whenever I cried too hard at night, the following day I’d had to wear make up on my eyes to cover my puffy eyes. I was fourteen years old back then. That was the year my father cheated on my mother and moved to my grandmother’s house, who had just passed away months prior to all that toxic drama that they always had. I didn’t cry because I wanted my mommy and daddy back together, fuck them. I cried because I had to go back to my dead friend’s house and have my happy memories turn to shit after seeing her house lifeless too. Remembering that fucked up memory puts me back on the brink of tears as I’m typing it now. Man, that’s the reason why I don’t enjoy listening to_ A window to the past _anymore. Anyways, I was back home safe and sound, him too. I was feeling mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

I abruptly woke up, found myself lost in my own bed, my own bedroom, my own apartment. I shook my head as an attempt to get my shit together and that was when I heard a voice in my head say: “he was abusive yesterday. He’s abusive too, just like her.” And_ fuck_. Yes. That was it. That’s why I felt weird. That’s why I almost had a panic attack. That’s why I almost cried twice throughout the day. He’s always been this way with me. He doesn’t know shit about me. Whenever I tell him something about me, he doesn’t even remember having that conversation at all. Hell, he can’t even remember my friends names! He never asks about how I’m doing, not that I care since we’re not close whatsoever, but you know, he should at least know that since, well, he’s my fucking father. Whenever he bought me a present growing up, it was always something he liked, something he wanted me to wear. Hell, I can’t even tell how many pink pieces of clothing I’ve gotten rid of because I fucking_ hate that colour, or maybe the reason why I fucking hate that colour so much is because of how much he forced me into wearing it. He’s always been a distant father, but at least he never beat the shit out of me or told me I was fat or ugly, or that he preferred my brother over me (like my abusive mother used to do.) Then again, that doesn’t make him any less abusive. Abuse is abuse. His motto’s always been “here, have this money, do whatever.” I used to appreciate that because I thought “cool, thank you for not being nosy.” Truth is, the reason why we can’t connect, bond or whatever is because he doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s been rejoicing on the fact that I’m “on his side” now because I no longer talk to abuser n° 1. On one of my sessions, my therapist told me that the reason why abuser 1 always did her best to crush my self-steem was because she considered me competition. And I dumbfoundedly asked “competition?”. And she replied: “yes, she feels like she was to compete with you for your father’s attention.” My head exploded after that statement. Right now I can’t help but think of what she told me that way. My father has kinda well more like really, been doing kinda the same shit to me, trying to keep me as close as possible to him, to the point where he texts every other day, which he never did until now. The suicide drama, the criminal activity, and a lot more shit that I’m sick of having to deal with. Like I said before, I’ve always been on the role of a parentified child. I always had to deal with this shit _and on my own. I’ve always been the punching bag. I always had to deal with all their drama when all I wanted was to have a normal childhood. All I got instead is a suicide attempt, a decade of self-harm and a long ass history of drug and alcohol abuse, which they know nothing about because I always kept it to myself. I always felt like a burden. I always felt guilty. I was always a “crybaby” because abuser 1 used to tell me that as a kid and whenever she used to see me cry about something as an adult.

So yeah, I’m fucking done with my family. Oh, and my brother? In case you haven’t read any of my previous posts, he’s just as an asshole as the other two are. He’s violent like abuser 1, so fuck you very much, I’m okay this way. He won’t talk to me and he won’t even tell me why. The rest of my family don’t know shit about me because I was always the “quiet one” so I know for a fact that I’m most likely the black sheep for not returning to my hometown in the past year or so. Abuser 1 is very into deceiving appearances and wearing a public mask, so I know for a fact that she’s playing the victim because she can’t reach me anymore, bahaha. fml.

With this post, I can officially say that I’m done grieving the family I always wanted to have but never did. I’ve been meaning to legally change my name because my middle name is abuser’s name 1 and now that abuser 2 has used my personal information against my will to do criminal activity, I have more than enough reasons to reinvent myself in every fucking way I want and need. With that being said, if you’ve got some last name suggestions, feel free to send me suggestions. This is only the beginning of the new chapter of my life. Hopefully your new chapter is starting now or soon too, dear stranger.

Never give up, always fight

Love, Evelyn

#text #personal #abuse #depression #anxiety #panic attacks #parentified child #borderline personality disorder #like if you read please #ty #my life as Eve #my life as evelyn

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incognitajones · 6 years ago

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okay so one of my favorite things about Fixer Upper is that they work in the same place!!! So if you're up for it what I'd like more than anything is for some fluffy caretaking h/c follow-up where Jyn takes Cassian home early to their(!!!) house! :D

Jyn’s phone buzzes once, and then again, and she reaches blindly for it while still staring at her computer. Two texts have arrived almost simultaneously: one from Bodhi, saying that he’s sick and going home, and another from Cassian.

feeling shitty think I have to leave early can I get a ride home?

Jyn smiles at the screen and thumbs back a quick response.

ugh, so needy (jk) sure just give me 5

When she arrives in the lobby, Cassian’s waiting on a bench by the main doors, looking so miserable that the small laugh she’s been holding in since he texted her dies in her throat. His face is unhealthily pale and he wobbles when he gets to his feet. She grabs his backpack by one strap and reaches up to push his hair off his forehead, hot and slick with sweat.

“You look awful,” she says, shocked into tactlessness.

“The food truck betrayed me,” he groans, dropping his head heavy against her shoulder.

“You should’ve known better than to listen to Bodhi and get the foot long,” she tells him, because it’s the truth, but she also strokes his hair in an attempt to be comforting. Poor Cassian. Although it’s still kind of amusing that her stoic boyfriend (he hasn’t taken a sick day in the year she’s known him) has been laid low by street meat.

He crosses his arms over his stomach and swallows hard. “I need to get out of here fast. Before it comes up all over this marble floor.”

Luckily she’d driven to work today, which she doesn’t often do; otherwise she’d have to call for a cab or an Uber and pray that Cassian could keep it together for the ride home.

The fresh air outside revives him momentarily. He lifts his head and breathes in deep, but then she sees another wave of nausea wash over him, his face turning a sickly yellow instead of its usual olive tone.

“Cassian? Are you going to…?” It takes him a second to focus on her, but eventually he swallows and shakes his head.

“I’ll get you home as fast as I can,” she promises, and keeps her foot on the pedal at a steady five miles over the speed limit all the way. Cassian rolls down the window and leans against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut, gulping in drafts of the wind blowing in. As soon as she parks on the street, he throws the car door open and hurries to the house—he doesn’t quite run, but it’s close.

By the time Jyn gets to the doorway he’s disappeared, but she can hear retching from the bathroom upstairs. Poor guy. She shuts the door behind her and hangs up his coat, abandoned on the floor; Cassian dropping his stuff in a pile in the hall is another sign he must be seriously ill.

She follows him upstairs and taps on the doorframe lightly in warning before she steps into the bathroom. “You okay?”

“No.” Cassian’s sitting on the floor, slumped against the side of the tub with his cheek mashed against the porcelain. “Trust me, you don’t wanna be here for this,” he groans, his voice echoing weirdly off the tile. He lurches back up to his knees and grabs for the toilet. Jyn grimaces and kneels behind him on the bathmat, rubbing his back in sympathy as he heaves. At least it doesn’t sound like there’s much left to come up.

After a few moments he lifts his head, panting. “This is disgusting,” he croaks, sounding so defeated that she blinks. “You’re never going to want to have sex with me ever again.”

Jyn stifles a laugh. “Oh, Cassian, don’t be such a drama queen. You saw me hungover after Baze and Chirrut’s housewarming party and it didn’t turn you off forever.”

“Don’t you have to go back to work?” His voice is slurred and faint.

Jyn shrugs. “I took the rest of the day off, I can do some work from home.”

True, watching anyone puke isn’t her idea of a fun time, but she loves Cassian and she wants to be here to do anything she can to make him feel better. She gets up, her knees cracking, and draws him a glass of cold tap water. He drinks avidly, gulping it down. “Careful, if you drink too fast it’ll just come back up,” she warns him.

She reaches for a clean washcloth and soaks it in cool water, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead before draping the cloth over the back of his neck. He sighs. “That feels good.”

The doorbell rings. She hesitates, debating whether to leave Cassian. It’s probably just someone selling something anyway. But he flaps one hand at her in dismissal. “Go on, it’s fine. I’ll just get into bed once my stomach finishes turning itself inside out.”

It’s Leia on the front stoop, Ben (now seven months old and so fat his chins have chins) propped on her hip. When Jyn opens the door he stretches out his arms with a gummy smile that dims as soon as he sees it’s just her. He likes Jyn, but he loves Cassian.

“I hear Cassian’s not feeling well?”

Jyn blinks. She spent so many years isolated, talking to basically no-one except her boss and Bodhi, and now there’s a whole handful of people who know stuff about her life, who care enough to ask questions. It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes, honestly.

But it doesn’t explain how Leia already knows about Cassian, unless she’s psychic.

“Bodhi texted Luke, who called me.”

Of course. “Yeah, looks like the two of them got food poisoning from one of their lunchtime adventures.”

“Well, we have gallons of this stuff.” Leia hands her a bottle of Pedialyte. “Don’t hesitate to come and get more if you need it. And if you want to come over for dinner later, in case Cassian can’t stand the smell of cooking, you’re welcome.”

“Thanks, Leia.” Jyn waves goodbye to Ben, dodging his grab for her fingers—she certainly doesn’t want to risk passing this germ on to the rugrat.

When she gets back upstairs, Cassian’s already in bed, huddled into a shivering ball. Jyn goes back and forth gathering supplies, trying to anticipate anything he might need: garbage can by his side of the bed, just in case he still isn’t finished puking; Pedialyte and water on the night table. She brings his favourite blanket up from the living room and drapes it over him, tucking it in around his shoulders.

She leans over to kiss his sweaty temple, about to sneak out of the room and leave him alone to get some rest. But he cracks open one eye and stares up at her pleadingly. “Stay?”

She can’t resist his pitiful tone. It’s awkward but in the end they work out a position that’s comfortable for both of them. Cassian curls on his side, head nestled on Jyn’s stomach just beneath her breasts, with her laptop on a pillow next to her thigh. She strokes her left hand absently through his hair, rubs his shoulder and kneads the tight cords in his neck, paying partial attention to the discovery document (she’ll have to re-read the whole thing) while she listens to his breathing. At first it’s laboured and interrupted by hitches as he holds his breath, willing himself not to be nauseous, but gradually it evens out and slows down. She glances down at his face; his eyes are closed, the tension in his forehead smoothed out by sleep.

Jyn thinks about shutting her laptop and crawling under the covers for a nap too. But her stomach suddenly growls beneath Cassian’s head, reminding her she hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. (Thank god she didn’t take Bodhi up on his invitation to meet them for lunch.) Cassian might not want anything to eat for a while, but she’s hungry. She slides out from under him gently, nudging her pillow over for him to use instead.

In the kitchen, she scans the fridge and cupboard trying to figure out what to make. Jyn has vague memories of her mom feeding her applesauce and bananas after she was sick, but according to Dr Google that’s no longer recommended for people recovering from gastrointestinal issues. A plain chicken broth and rice soup, she decides, maybe with an egg whisked in if Cassian’s stomach can take it. She’s still no gourmet cook, but she can handle that. She washes her hands scrupulously and gets to work.

The soup is nearly ready and she’s chopping a few green onions for her share of it when she hears footsteps on the stairs. Cassian stumbles into the kitchen, wearing nothing but pajama pants and his grandmother’s crocheted blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair is sticking up at all angles in an endearing mess. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s still pale, but he doesn’t seem to be sweating.

“Feel like you could eat something?” she asks, and he nods.

She fills a mug of soup and passes it to him. He cups his hands around it. “This actually smells good,” he says, sounding surprised.

Jyn nods. “I texted Bodhi, he says he’s feeling a little better already too. I guess the good news is this doesn’t last long.”

She gets a mug for herself and leans against the counter, eating in companionable silence. But after slowly sipping just half his mug of soup, Cassian puts it down on the counter.

She eyes him anxiously. “How’s your stomach?”

“Fine.” He yawns. “I’m just exhausted. Feels like a bus ran over me.”

He’s been working long hours lately—too long—and Jyn’s sure that’s part of the reason this virus hit him so hard. “Come on, back to bed.” She curls her hand into his and urges him up the stairs.

But when they get there, he tugs her down on to the mattress with him and she doesn’t resist. She notches her head under his chin and lets her feet slot between his. He pulls the crochet blanket up over both of them and wraps his arm around her waist, securing her against him.

“I really don’t want to go to work tomorrow,” he mumbles into her hair.

“You don’t have to.” She yawns too, fatigue catching up with her. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“Good, then you can sleep in with me.” He spans his hand across her back, warm and intimate, and sleep slides over Jyn like a wave.

Next morning, Jyn wakes when the mattress shifts beneath her as Cassian gets out of bed. She doesn’t open her eyes but listens intently, hoping he’s not still sick. But the only noises she hears from the bathroom are running water, the friction and splash of brushing teeth. When Cassian returns he slides into bed behind her, curling up in an echo of her posture but not quite touching her. She can feel his warmth all along the line of her back.

Jyn smiles to herself and rolls over, nestling into the circle of his arm. “Feeling better?”

“Mmhmm.” He hums into the top of her head. “My appetite is definitely back.”

“Want to go out for breakfast, then?” she asks, thinking of waffles.

“No.” He grins at her, slow and suggestive, and dips his head to trace his tongue along the neckline of her t-shirt. She laughs and pulls him up into a kiss tasting of mint.

#jyn x cassian #rebelcaptain #cats and metersticks #my fic #prompt fill #more sick fic #fixer upper #modern AU

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aimeraiwrites · 6 years ago

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Mat/Dante and #14 for the soulmate au prompts?

[yes it’s been several months and i’m just getting back to finishing the backlog of prompted things but!! this was pretty much complete in my docs so]

Mat’s lucky his right hand is the one that he used to grab Dante, all those years ago. Most people ask him if he shook hands with his soulmate, and he can say that it was something like that, while smiling convincingly enough at them. The truth is, he’s not even sure Dante remembers that Mat had grabbed Dante that first time to keep Dante from tripping and falling, pulling him closer. It feels like a fitting way to start their story.

Mat feels like he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to pull Dante closer. After all, it’s what their marks symbolise, and he knows he cares way too much about soulmarks, but he wishes it didn’t constantly feel like Dante was slipping through Mat’s fingers. They could’ve both gone NCAA, but Mat chose the Thunderbirds. They could’ve both gone to the Thunderbirds, but Dante picked the NCAA. Mat got drafted to the Islanders, and Dante got drafted to a team halfway across the country, and that was out of their control. But then Mat finally makes his way up to the big leagues, and Dante chooses to finish school. He doesn’t even know how he’s kept Dante all these years, wonders if they’d be friends still if not for the soulmarks, and then feels ungrateful for thinking about it like that. Dante does care. He has to, right?

That’s Mat being ungrateful again, because he knows Dante cares, but the way Dante cares doesn’t make sense to Mat at all. Mat doesn’t know what he means to Dante. Mat doesn’t know, and he’s too afraid to ask, and it’s killing him a little. A lot. It’s killing him a lot, and the only reason he’s thinking about it is because he’s been drinking some top-shelf stuff. It’s an anniversary of sorts, almost, and he’s alone in the empty apartment he bought himself. Dante is still in Boston, but Mat’s already back in BC. He won’t call Dante, though, because Dante has exams and friends and a life back in Boston that Mat isn’t part of, and because if he calls Dante, he might tell him about all of this and then Dante will really be disappointed in him, because Mat is being clingy and irrational, and he knows it, but Dante is his soulmate.

He opens his phone anyway, thinks of sending a text to Dante, just wondering what he’s up to, but Dante texts him like he knew Mat was thinking of him. Mat goes to open the text, but he ends up pressing dial and doesn’t realise till the call goes through. It’s too late to hang up, because Dante picks up immediately.

“Hi Mat,” Dante says, and he sounds so happy that Mat is involuntarily smiling at his half-full glass.

“Hey Dante,” Mat says, and he sounds way more wasted than he thought he was. He thought he was tipsy but he’s edging towards full drunk, his true emotions obvious in his voice the way they never are sober.

“Happy anniversary,” Dante says. “Or like, not for you yet but it’s past midnight here and I don’t know if I can stay up till 3am.”

“Anniversary?” Mat says, through lips gone numb.

Dante sounds a little sheepish. “It is, right? Ten years, to the day.”

“I didn’t know you kept track,” Mat says and now he feels kinda shitty, drinking alone and already drunk and it’s not even the day while Dante apparently stayed up just to wish him.

“Mat,” Dante says, and he sounds funny in a way Mat can’t describe but knows is less smiley. “Of course I would. It’s ten years of both of us.”

“There’s an us?” Mat asks, before he can self-edit. He’s drunk but even he knows that it’s a misstep, and so fucking untrue.

Dante sounds a lot less smiley now, but he doesn’t sound mad. Mat thinks he would be furious, if Dante ever said something like that to him, but they’re not the same at all for soulmate things, so he can’t say he’s surprised. “Mat, can I FaceTime you?”

“Sure,” Mat says, and the request pops up immediately.

When he answers it, Dante shows up on the screen, somewhere surprisingly well lit, his hair looking like he’s been running his fingers through it, more unruly than usual. He looks stressed and visibly exhausted, and Mat wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with him, all of a sudden, just to make sure he’s getting enough sleep. Or barring that, he wants to at least get on a goddamn plane and see him. He doesn’t know what it would do, except that he wants to, even though he’ll be more of a distraction than not.

Dante musters up a smile seeing Mat, but it fades quickly. “Mat, you know there’s an us, right?” he says, and he sounds so serious and so believing, and Mat doesn’t understand. It didn’t feel like Dante cared as much, but then he wouldn’t have answered the call. Wouldn’t have remembered that it’s been ten years since they gave each other matching red handprints. Wouldn’t be affirming that there’s an us to them.

“I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” Mat says, because if he can take it back they don’t have to talk about this on their tenth anniversary, because he can’t see it ending any way but unhappily.

Dante sucks on his lower lip and runs his free hand through his hair, messing it up further, showing off the hand print encircling his left wrist like a manacle. “How did you mean it, Mat?”

Dante isn’t giving him an easy out here. Mat fumbles with the words, but comes up empty, a long silence where he’s the sole focus of Dante’s attention. He reaches for the glass instead and takes a sip to brace himself, but Dante catches on immediately

“Are you drunk?” Dante asks. He doesn’t sound accusing, just thoughtful and a little worried.

Mat shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Mat, are you okay? It’s barely nine there.”

Mat shrugs. He doesn’t know what answer Dante wants and Dante doesn’t seem to be gunning for a fight, but he doesn’t know. “I just miss you,” he says plaintively. “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

Dante’s face looks visibly devastated. This is worse than if Mat had shot him, the look on his face, hurt and disbelief warring with each other. “Mat. Mat, what do you think you are to me?”

“Your soulmate?” Mat answers, because that is fairly obvious. “What else is there?”

Dante closes his eyes and swallows, lashes casting shadows under his eyes. “Mat,” he says, his voice measured and tight. A ‘we’re down by two but we have a period left to play and we can do this’ voice. “I know I’m not great at words, but you’re…”

He shakes his head and looks back at Mat, frustrated. “You’re everything to me. I thought you knew.”

“Because we’re soulmates,” Mat finishes.

“Because you’re you,” Dante corrects. “We have marks and they match. Cool. Great. But I’d rather not have the marks and have you. A mark’s just a mark, but you’re you. And I–”

He cuts himself off again, and smiles a little wryly. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense, but you know I love you. You’re the best part of my summers and it’s great that we’re soulmates, but there would be an us anyway. Or–I’d want there to be an us.”

“Me too,” Mat says, because Dante looks nervous, and he shouldn’t when he’s said all these things that Mat’s been waiting to hear for forever and a day, from the first time they touched. Mat honestly feels a little stupid, now, for thinking that Dante doesn’t care, because he obviously cares. He cares so much. It’s written all over his face and the way he said it like it hurt that Mat didn’t already know.

Dante sighs like he’s relieved, slumping back a little. “You do know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” Mat says. Doesn’t add the ‘I know now’ because it’ll only hurt both of them. He thought, even before, but it’s something different to know, because Dante has said it, even if Mat doesn’t know how he means it. Love can mean anything; love can be everything, and Dante doesn’t seem to treat him any different. Mat buys into grand romances. Dante doesn’t. Mat doesn’t know what a love like that would look like on Dante, because the love he gives Mat is like a security blanket. He doesn’t really know if Dante does romance, just that he doesn’t do grand romance. He wants to know, though. Not all soulmates are romantic, but he wants to know, because Dante’s love still isn’t something Mat can touch and understand.

It’s like Dante knows what Mat is thinking. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Mat freezes, and Dante makes a quiet sound that Mat thinks is going to be pressed into his memory forever.

“What do I have to do to prove it to you?” Dante asks, and he sounds so fucking hopeless that it’s all the proof that Mat really needs, or ever will need. Maybe it’s not Mat’s kind of love, but even if it isn’t, Mat is taking it far too lightly.

“You don’t,” Mat says. “I’m just being me.”

Dante just looks at him with a capital-L Look, till Mat feels defensive about it. “What?”

“Sometimes, you’re such an idiot,” Dante tells him. “Let me rephrase: I don’t have to prove it to you, but I want to, because I hate that you ever doubted it at all.”

He’s blushing bright red and honestly, this might be the most feelings sharing that they’ve done about each other since the time they were screaming at each other about where Dante was going to go play. That time didn’t involve even an ounce of the vulnerability Mat’s feeling now, and he doesn’t know if Dante’s ever told him so much about the bond and them and how he feels. Dante is an open book except for when it comes to these kinds of things; he keeps his love close.

“I don’t need it now,” Mat says, and hopes Dante believes him.

He doesn’t. His jaw does a thing, and Dante can be as headstrong as Mat. More, even. Mat hasn’t seen this face in years, and Mat is tired and drunk and–

“Dante,” he says, softly, and Dante’s face modulates, still stubborn, but somehow not as fierce. This is a Dante who will yield, who Mat can coax down. “You don’t talk, you know.”

Dante opens his mouth but Mat cuts him off before he can even start. “I mean, you don’t talk about soulmate things, or things that matter, and I need that.”

Dante sits there, frowning at Mat. “I didn’t know.”

“I mean, I never told you,” Mat says. He didn’t want to appear too needy, and it’s not like Dante isn’t wonderful, but it makes being apart so hard, because Dante is inscrutable over text. “I thought it would be too much.”

“So, should I tell you I love you every day?” Dante asks, all focus.

If Mat told him yes, right now, he’d do it without question and mean it every time, because Dante is like that. But Mat’s heart wouldn’t be able to take hearing it every day, and it’s already struggling, going dangerously fast. Has been for most of this conversation, partly fear, mostly elation.

Mat licks his lips. “Don’t do that.”

“So what should I do?” Dante asks.

“Just talk more,” Mat says.

“Like what? Like, do you want to hear that I think about you every time I see my wrist?” Dante asks, and his face is so red but he’s still talking. “Or that sometimes I miss you so much it hurts? Because I’d do anything to have you here right now.”

Mat is not sure he’s still breathing, pulse thundering in his ears. “I could fly out.”

He’d been thinking of it as a ridiculous idea earlier but the way Dante lights up, despite the bags under his eyes. Yeah, it’s not ridiculous at all.

“Would you?”

“I thought about it earlier,” Mat admits, and Dante’s almost glowing, wanting. How could Mat have thought it was a stupid idea at all? “You sure you want me around even with finals?”

Dante shrugs off finals like they’re nothing. “I always want you around, finals can deal.”

“Then I’ll come,” Mat says, like it’s that easy, but it is. “We can come back home together.”

Dante’s smiling at him like–Mat doesn’t know what to call that look, just that it warms him up, makes his face feel hot enough that he’s sure Dante will notice. “I’d like that.”

It’s weird, Mat thinks distantly, that it wasn’t a ‘that’d be sick, bro.’ Not a bad weird, and not worth focusing on when he has tickets to book and bags to pack, but still weird.

Dante yawns in the middle of Mat trying to remember what he needs to pack, and Mat blinks and looks at the time. “Shit, you should be asleep right now.”

“’S fine,” Dante says, around another yawn that practically cracks his jaw. “Needed to talk to you.”

“More than you needed to sleep?” Mat asks dryly, back on familiar ground.

Dante wrinkles his nose. “It’s our anniversary, and I wanted.”

Mat doesn’t know what to say to that, just smiles, probably like an idiot. “I’ll be out on the earliest flight I can get.”

“Perfect,” Dante says, before beaming. “We’ll get to spend our anniversary together.”

“What, are you planning something nice?” Mat asks, more because he can than because he’s expecting it.

Dante shrugs. “I’d rather stay in and spend time with you. I miss the way your–” He cuts himself off, but Mat just knows what it would have been.

“Soft. So fucking soft.”

“I didn’t get to finish, but I’m not going to be sorry about being soft about you,” Dante says, and he’s yawning again, and Mat should really have sent him to bed minutes ago, but he’s going to hoard every minute of Dante he can get, never mind that he’s going to see him tomorrow. “Hey, ’m gonna go back to my room, but if I put in my earphones and hide under the covers I can talk to you till I fall asleep? Just make sure you text me your flight details.”

Dante falls asleep maybe ten minutes after he ends up in his bed, and Mat’s pretty sure he just made it through their conversation through sheer stubbornness. He’s smiling down at his phone like an idiot, anyway, but there’s no one to see him in his apartment, still kinda tipsy, but some of that has to be the joy, the invincibility that comes with knowing that Dante loves him. Maybe not Mat’s kind of love, but love enough that Mat can fly to the other side of the country just because Dante wants him there.

#aimee writes #mat/dante #soulmates!! aka probably my most favourite trope ever #if you're wondering: yes i have a long backlog. yes i do come back to these things although s/t i have to guess the game they belong to #also i just realised this is like. 2.7k so i hope this makes up for #how late this is #i'm just. taking three classes in a third of the time they're supposed to take and working part time and committed to 3 challenges #breaks? no not me #ANYWAY #PLEASE TAKE THIS #IN ALL OF ITS FEELINGS DRENCHED GLORY #probably should be tagged for idiocy

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