#read some VERY upsetting posts on there. and just immediately deleted the app.

[anarchoarchie]

I Need To Shoot My Phone like for real this time guys………… went on facebook and decided to check up on a beloved old mentor figure of mine who straight up changed my life and made me who i am today and found out he is now doing some deeply concerning extreme antivax truthing!!!!! #awesome #feelingreally normal

[selarina]

Out of Style

-> Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Chapter 2: Digitial Duet

Summary: The following night, Suna can't help but find himself lured by your online persona.

Content Warnings: celebrity au, rockstar!suna rintaro, actress!reader, online interactions, band dynamics, fluff, sexual undertones, mention of smoking, character study, sensual imagery, eventual smut

Word Count: 1.7k words

Author's Note: I'm ngl lead singer!atsumu does things to me.... also, bonus points for you if you guess what osamu, aran and kita's roles are in the band

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Suna’s public account is filled with carefully curated images sent by his publicist, or sometimes it is simply just posted by a poor intern whose only job is analyzing and curating his online presence. He tried maintaining a sense of autonomy at first. After all, he only becomes a star after being on social media for quite a while. He quite liked it, the unseriousness of it all but too many sites have risen and fallen since then, and he’s realized he might be too old or too busy to get used to the new features.

So… Suna’s not one to spend a lot of time on social media, barring the one private Instagram account his sister, Reiko, set up for him. It’s private, it has the only photo ever posted on the account — a selfie of him and his sister from the same day she set the account up. She’s smiling at the camera, perfectly posed while he’s right behind her, his face is twisted, caught off guard. You could say he was objectively ugly in the photo.

Hmm? He stares down at the picture. Seems like he never really deleted it. He switches to his public account.

His eyes move to scan his phone screen for a brief second before he finds it. He’s still not used to how different everything is from the last time he used this app, and it’s only been two weeks. How can you change so much in so little time? And why would you even?

His finger taps to reach the search option, his fingers moving to type in your name. Immediately, he gets a list of results — a verified account on top with a profile picture of you. He looks at the rest of the accounts below yours, a list of fan accounts of you.

He clicks on your account.

When the screen finally opens, Suna is accosted by your familiar face, scattered across the range of tiny boxes.

He clicks on the first picture that catches his immediate eye, it’s a picture of you sitting outside an establishment. Your shoes are scattered beside you as you smile sweetly at the screen. He smiles.

Your profile actually looks like photos you are posting yourself, but well, so does his, he thinks. Frowning, he scrolls, and he scrolls. He feels like an intruder as his scrolling continues, but he can’t seem to stop for some reason. The photos are like a collection of your life — it’s full of photos of you, your friends, co-stars, your sister, and your cat. Sometimes, the occasional movie promotion, a fashion event, or something like that.

And then he stumbles upon it, it’s a photo of you wrapped in a blazer, as the rain pours in the foreground. And you — you’re twisting your head ever so slightly to address the camera directly with your eyes, and you manage to hold his eyes to yours for quite a well somehow. He can’t help but think if your lips are purposefully quirked with a ghost of a smile. He lingers far longer than he’d care to admit but eventually, he scrolls again, as one does.

Only to wash away his opinion of you, he says. Only to get accustomed and to get rid of this new feeling, he says.

He then stops at another picture, a promotional picture, but it’s not for your movie. It’s for this band. Scarlet Riot.

He remembers this band, during a meeting where his manager was very upset with the band for Scarlet Riot’s new single surpassing his band, Black Velvet’s single on the rankings. He remembers dozing off during the meeting and being forcefully woken up again, and again, and again until the manager had enough and sent him back home. He happily accepted.

He doesn’t know anything about Scarlet Riot, apart from the fact that they are apparently cut from the same cloth as his band but yes, he notices how there isn’t much visible. Not your face, not the guy’s face but he seems to be holding you and your very lightly covered body — just you in your bra, and your underwear to be candid.

The said faceless guy is clothed entirely with one hand grasping the small of your back, and the other one holding your leg up as you seem to lift it in tandem.

He immediately clicks off the post, switching to his official account as he searches for your profile.

His hands hover for a second over the send button before he clicks on it.

To be fair, he isn’t technically lying in his texts because he is now rewatching your movie to drown out the anticipation of your response, but at the moment he only had enough heed to hit send on the message then, and he didn’t know how long that would last.

He eyes his abandoned phone on the teak table in front of him, as he watches your movie. It currently has a conversation between two guys in the movie, and honestly, he couldn’t care less about them.

He couldn’t help it. He looked up the video, and he admits he can find himself agreeing with the rest of the 14 million people who seem to find the appeal. He pauses the video, and it pauses at a picture-worthy shot if he could say so himself — your eyes are heavy-lidded resulting in a sultry expression, akin to a languid panther moving through the tall grass, that makes something primal rake right beneath the confines of his body.

H clicks off from the video, turning off his phone as he unpauses your movie continuing to chomp on the rest of his pasta.

—

The next day, Suna found himself on auto-pilot making his way through the band's rehearsal studio. The place was cramped and confining — just as he secretly liked. It’s always overfilled with a diversified jumble of instruments, amps, and other recording equipment.

He adjusts his guitar strap as he began the process of plugging his instrument in. He’s early today, so it affords him the opportunity to observe as his bandmates and studio staff trickle in, one by one, as he sips on his coffee. He’s not usually a fan of hot beverages, preferring cooler, or lukewarm drinks but today, he needs the searing warmth to keep him from biting off his bandmates’ heads.

Atsumu, the drummer, finally saunters in with his signature impish grin that sent a surge of irritation coursing through Suna's veins. It’s just lack of sleep talking, he reassures himself as Atsumu takes a seat near him seating himself behind the drum set.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Atsumu quipped, his voice cutting through the studio's ambient hum Suna grew comfortable in.

Suna's retort was swift, a deadpan stare, as he took another sip. "Don't call me that.”

“Well, you look the part.” Atsumu remained undeterred, as he reclined against the seat, a smirk etched upon his features.

Suna doesn’t respond, his attention returning to the coffee cup, as he took another sip.

“Where's everyone else?” Suna set aside the guitar, carefully placing his chair as he weaved through to discard the now-empty cup into the bin.

"Aran’s out for a smoke. Osamu’s stuck in traffic, surprise surprise. Kita’s at a shoot. He should be late today," Atsumu replied.

Suna's response was a barely discernible hum as he sat back in his chair. He occupied himself with tuning his guitar, his fingers moving with practiced familiarity, attuned to the nuances of each string.

They continued to wait in silence, Atsumu’s soft humming withheld. Not that Suna particularly took issue with it, in fact, it was a bit soothing to exist in his space, until Atsumu spoke again that is.

"So, you seemed to have an interesting night.” Atsumu's tone was teasing, his words laden with an underlying implication that Suna found distinctly annoying.

A warning glint flickered through Suna's eyes, his response lax but firm. "No idea what you’re talking about."

Atsumu leaned back against his seat, a smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come on now. We all saw you last night. Never knew you could physically bring yourself to smile."

Suna's eyes narrowed. “We were just talking.”

Atsumu barely hummed in response, but Suna’s annoyance seemed to seep back under his skin – he didn't want to engage in this conversation, especially not with Atsumu, who generally had a talented knack for pushing his buttons early in the morning.

Atsumu waggled his eyebrows as they raise up. "So, what kind of talkin' were ya doin', hmm?"

Suna shot a sharp look at Atsumu, his fingers pausing his task on the guitar. "None of your business."

“Okay,” Atsumu responds and Suna’s relieved. For all his many complaints about Atsumu, he truly does know how to read people, and as much as he seemed to like pushing boundaries, he never truly seemed to cross them.

“Just be careful,” Atsumu speaks up, Atsumu's tone was tinged with a rare sincerity. Suna finds it a bit too jarring like he’s an alternate reality.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just — Relationships with other people like us never truly work out, ya know.”

“I know,” Suna responds, as his eyes flit down to his guitar. Suna's fingers slipped on the strings, creating a dissonant sound.

Atsumu sighs as his voice comes out in a subdued murmur, “I should know better than anyone,” before Osamu's voice carries from outside to inside the studio, disrupting the momentary exchange.

Osamu walks through pushing the entry door as he stomps over to where they are.

“Get off my seat, ya imp,” he says, tossing his back to the side before he proceeds to push Atsumu off the chair, and almost like he was slapped out of it — Atsumu’s back to his usual self as his hands rise up to pull Osamu’s hair.

At the backdrop of the familiar dance between Osamu and Atsumu, Suna pulls out of his phone and the muted buzz against his thigh.

Ping! His eyes flit up to the top of his phone. It’s you. He clicks on the notification.

yn_ln : sorry i passed out but wow, flattery and a movie review?

yn_ln : i'm honored

Suna smirks as he taps on the screen. His fingers seem to type out a reply before he's even fully aware of it.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a comment by thesuperfeyneednoshoes which says "Check for it straight away. There's no need to wait."]

[A search for carbon monoxide poisoning, a result being: The most common symptoms of CO poisoning are headache, dizziness, weakness, upset stomach, vomiting, chest pain, and confusion. CO symptoms are often described as "flu- like." If you breathe in a lot of CO it can make you pass out or kill you.]

[Three tweets by @How2Drink "Greg" which say "When I was a teenager, a young Gothman, I thought I could read peoples auras, see into other planes of reality, astral project, and commune with spirits. Turns out I *was* seeing auras, seizure auras, I'm epileptic. I wasn't astral projecting, I had vertigo and brain lightning.

"Anyway, based on my own life, I'd bet temporal lobe epilepsy has got to be one of the most under-diagnosed conditions out there. Consider getting checked if you've been diagnosed type-2 bipolar, or if you get migraines.

"And if, like me, when you were 10 years old you'd lay down to go to bed at night and then your bed would feel like it was spinning like a county fair Gravitron sideways through outer space for an hour, absolutely definitely go see a neurologist."]

[A Reddit post on legaladvice by RBradbury1920, titled "[MA] Post-it notes left in apartment." The post says "On the 15th of April I found a yellow post-it note in a handwriting that wasn't mine on my desk reminding me of some errands I had to do, but told literally nobody about. While odd, I chalked it up to something I did in my sleep, thinking maybe in my half-awake state I scrawled it so it didn't appear to be my handwriting. I threw it out and thought little of it.

On the 19th, I found another post it note on the back of my desk chair, in the same handwriting as the previous note, telling me to make sure I "saved my documents". I was freaked out, but there were no other signs of a break-in, so I set up a web-cam in my house aimed at my desk and used a security-cam app for it to record after detecting movement.

On the 28th, I woke up to find another post-it note, this one saying, "Our landlord isn't letting me talk to you, but it's important we do." I immediately checked the webcam's folder on my computer and found nothing from the night before, but my computer's recycling bin had been emptied, which I am certain I did not do recently, indicating someone had noticed the webcam and deleted the files. (They were just saved straight to a folder on my desktop called "Webcam".

Today, on the 1st of May, I found another post it note, this time on the outside of my door, with nothing written on it- and there also appeared to be post-its on many other doors in my apartment complex, all blank, in varying colors.

Do I have any legal recourse here? I have no proof except for the post-its, but those are written by my pen and on my post-it notes, so conceivably I could have faked them. Would contacting the police get me into any trouble, if they can't determine an outside source for this? I just want to make sure I'm not wasting anyone's time.

Should I consult my landlord? Those also living in the complex?

EDIT: I pulled up a letter I received from my landlord back when I moved in, and the handwriting is identical. Could this count as evidence?"]

[A comment by u/Kakkerlak which says "You seem sincere and this doesn't appear to be the plot of a Ray Bradbury short story.

It's possible that your landlord is leaving notes inside your apartment, but they don't make any sense in the context you're describing them.

It's likely that you are writing the notes yourself, but you are forgetting. Do you use post-it notes as reminders in any other parts of your life or job?

Yes, this might be a mental health issue. You might be experiencing some sort of dissociative disorder.

Or it might be a physical problem. You mentioned that you have a very unusual narrow bedroom with no windows; is there a chance that you are not getting enough ventilation when you sleep, or that there is a carbon monoxide leak in the building? A cheap CO detector (which you should have anyway) is a fast way to find out. You'll also have really bad headaches.

You know your own medical and mental history and your other experiences. If you think these incidents might be you, writing notes to yourself, there's no shame in getting somebody qualified to give you an opinion."]

[An update post, titled "[UPDATE!] [MA] Post-it notes left in apartment." The post reads "Thanks to everyone who sent suggestions and gave advice on how to proceeded- especially to those who recommended a CO detector... because when I plugged one in in the bedroom, it read at 100ppm.

TL;DR: I had CO poisoning and thought my landlord was stalking me."

Below is a comment by u/bonez656 which says "Sounds like you owe /u/Kakkerlak big time. He may have just saved your life.

Glad you figured it out."]

I'm saying this from a place of genuine care: if you are seeing ghosts or shadows or having nightmares... and sageing, eggshells, Crystal's, and psychics arent cutting it..

Please.. please... check for things like gas leaks, water damage, vermin. I'm not saying your house isnt haunted, I'm just saying that carbon monoxide poisoning looks a LOT like being haunted.

[divina-yae]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐋𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐭. 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝗼𝗼 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝗼̄

❥𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

✹𝘉𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

Requests are open!!

It was obvious in his clinginess, how you were someone that he confided in, even in the way that he spoke to you, that Kuroo truly cared for you, maybe even loved you, if you thought about it.

However, it was in some of the other small things that made you doubt it as well. Before you, it was his ex-girlfriend, Sayaka. For almost a year they dated, the two of them being known as Nekoma’s power couple.

That was until Sayaka was caught cheating by Kuroo and his friends. As one of his best friends, you were in charge of picking up the pieces. And you did. So well, in fact, that five months later, the two of you were the new power couple.

Months had past since then, but the feelings of insecurity still lingered. As much as you would’ve loved to chalk it up too silly, nonsensical fears, you couldn’t.

The overwhelming difference in your relationship and and his Sayaka’s were glaringly obvious. Things he wouldn’t hesitate to do with her, he’d never once brought up with you.

Whereas Sayaka proudly wore Kuroo’s volleyball jacket at every game, you’d never once seen it. The cheesy love notes he had you proof read before he put them into her locker had yet to make an appearance in yours.

All the since deleted posts of Sayaka, hadn’t been replaced with even one of the two of you, no matter how many times he’d made it onto your social media accounts.

It was the small, yet significant things like this that had you doubting good feelings. You’d had a first hand view to how much being cheated on had crushed him. Was it possible you were just a rebound, a replacement of convenience?

With every day your insecurities continued to grow out of control. With his growing responsibilities and focus on volleyball, he was beginning to become distant, only adding onto your worries.

Not wanting to distract him or seem overly clingy, you began to pull away, as hard as it was.

And yet, you still found yourself sitting with Kuroo on his bed. Upon his insistence, he’d placed you in his lap, stating that it’d been far too long since he’d been able to just hold you.

You didn’t bother pointing out that he could only blame his schedule for that.

“(N/N)-chan~” You huffed, amused. “Just call me ‘(Y/N)’, Tetsu, that nickname doesn’t make any sense.

The ravenette chuckled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “Aww, but it sounds so cute!” You laughed a little, leaning back into his embrace.

You repressed your shiver when his lips landed on the curve of your neck. “I’ve missed you... I’m sorry for being so busy lately.” The feeling of his lips dragging over your skin with every word banished your negative thoughts, at least for the time being.

You interlaced your hands with his, which were placed on your waist. “I missed you too, baby.” It was almost embarrassing, really, how easy and effortlessly your boyfriend could put you at ease and wipe every insecurity away with just a few words.

You spun around in his lap so you could wrap your legs around him and lean your head into his shoulder. “Tired, kitten?” He teased softly.

You nodded, pushing away your flutters. “How about we watch a movie, yeah? You pick something and I’ll get snacks.” You grinned at the suggestion, a relaxing night being exactly what you needed.

“Deal!” The captain pressed a quick kiss to your nose before gently lifting you up and off his lap so he could get up. “I’ll be right back, doll!”

You smiled fondly as he left the room and you grabbed the remote. In no time, your opened Netflix and flipped through the different categories.

You went to his list and settled on a show you liked. You pressed pause content to scroll through your phone as you waited.

However, Kuroo’s phone buzzing caught your attention. The notification was the last thing you’d expect from his phone.

‘Log in your cycle today!’ From Flo, the very app you used to track your own period. You blinked, nothing short of surprised at the notification.

“I got popcorn and skittles, your favorite~” Instead of accepting the treat, you stared back at him, a question in your expression.

“Tetsu, do you have a period?” He immediately choked on a mouthful of popcorn, his shock rivaling your own.

“What the hell- no, (Y/N)! What even?” You laughed at his dramatic reaction, showing him his phone. “Then why do you have Flo, you weirdo?” His expression turned sheepish.

“Ah... I used to keep track of... Sayaka’s so I could I be prepared to help out. I guess I just never got around to deleting it.”

Didn’t bother to delete it? It’d been nearly a year. Was he still hung up on her? The one who’d broken his heart?

You didn’t bother to tell yourself you were overreacting when you felt your heart all but plummet. Never once had he bothered to do anything for you during your weeklong suffering.

You quickly thought of an excuse, all the while feeling bile rise in your throat. “Shit, what time is it?! I totally forget I have a test tomorrow! I have to go. Sorry to rush out, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Except, he didn’t see you the next day. Or even the day after that. You were going out of your way to avoid him, even going so far as to fake being sick.

Your best friend, (R/N), bright you your schoolwork and was even willing to take it to school for you.

They didn’t pry past what you said willingly and went above and beyond for you. They had truly been your saving grace during these last few days.

You knew you couldn’t hide out forever, but you at least wanted to have your thoughts and feelings together before you saw him.

It was the third day and you were sure that you only had the rest of the day to get yourself together. Your family had caught onto your lack of an actual illness on the first day, but they had been giving you grace. Now, you could tell that you were on thin ice, however.

School had just gotten over, and you were expecting (R/N) to come over to give you your homework and also save you from boredom.

You’d even prepared a quick snack to thank her. Nothing major, just onigiri and some fruit. Just as you went to flip on the television, the door rang.

You smiled, relieved, and bounded over to the door. You opened the door, ready to greet your friend.

“Hey! I made oni-“ “(Y/N)?” A voice interrupted, causing you to snap to attention. Your mouth went dry as you looked up at the one person you weren’t ready to talk to.

“Tetsurō... what are you-“ You started, not at all feeling ready to talk to him. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?” You blinked at him, seemingly unable to formulate a coherent response.

“We have to talk. (R/N) told me you were upset, not sick.” Wordlessly, you moved out of the doorway, permitting him entrance.

Here went nothing and everything...

The room was deathly silent as both you and Kuroo stared back at each other. You were sitting at the dining room, each waiting for other to speak.

As much as you wanted to get this conversation over with, the words just wouldn’t seem to come.

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?” He pleaded. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to clutch his shaking hand.

“Tetsurō, I- it’s complicated...” You immediately averted your gaze from his face, the hurt in his expression too much to bear.

“I love you, so much, but... sometimes I don’t believe that you love me like I love you...” A pained sound left his mouth but you pressed on.

“I know how much you... loved Sayaka, and I know how much she hurt you, but Tetsu, I don’t want to be a replacement-“

Arms all crushing you to his chest cut you off, arms belonging to a now sniffling ravenette.

“(Y/N), I-I love you so much, and it hurts that I haven’t made it obvious. Sayaka fell in love with the image of me, the thought that I was some... intimidating bad boy. But you know better than anyone that I’m anything but that.”

You felt your own tears gather at his revelation and you held onto him as he continued. “She got tired of being doted on, or me showing her off. She didn’t like that I was... soft. I didn’t want to lose you because of that so I tried to stop,” He admitted shakily.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “Tetsu, I’ve known you since we were kids. I know you. And that’s the guy I fell in love with. All your ‘soft habits’ are a part of you, and I love all of you. You deserved better than someone who only loved the idea of you, but please don’t let it hold you back from real love.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Thank you, I love you, so much, (Y/N),” He cried.

You placed your hands into his hair and on his back as he whispered teary declarations of love into your skin.

“I’m sorry I avoided you, Tetsu,” You murmured. He exhaled shakily and hugged you tighter. “I’m just glad I have you back. I’ve missed you, Angel.”

You pulled back so you could look him in the face. “I promise you’ll always have me.” His smile was wide and genuine as he pulled you back into his warm embrace.

The two of you stayed there for some time, comforting each other until the disparaging atmosphere faded away.

Once you punched Sayaka in her throat, everything would be perfect.

[darriness]

Klaine Fic - 3 on 1

Author: darriness

Word Count: 19352

Summary: What happens when triplets each find the potential love of their lives...in the same person?

Author’s Note: This author's note is a little long but I ask that you read it all :) Welcome to my story for the Glee Potluck Big Bang! I've had this story finished for a couple of months so I'm over the moon I'm getting a chance to post it a little early! The original idea for this fic came from a conversation I had with @ipwarn​ when I discovered that Darren Criss, Alex Brightman, and Henry Golding share the same birthdate. But, saying that, Blaine is still Blaine in this story (he's not Darren) and for Alex and Henry I used parts of their real life inspirations' general appearance as reference but they are completely made up characters. Most notably, and the reason I wanted to say anything, I know Henry Golding is actually Malaysian but Henry in my story is half Filipino. Lastly but definitely not least I would like to thank @imrights​ for the AMAZING title art above that I am completely obsessed with. And as always I would like to thank my fantastic beta @darrenismydarcy​ - I could not do any of this without you!! I hope all of the above makes sense! Enjoy the story! I, selfishly, love it a whole lot!

AO3 Link

3 on 1

What do you get when you mix an Asian banker with an Irish elementary school teacher?

Henry, Alexander, and Blaine Anderson.

That? Is Alex Anderson’s favourite joke to tell. It’s caused his brothers to roll their eyes more times then they can count but Alex still gets a kick out of it.

Now, Henry, Alex, and Blaine aren’t JUST brothers. I mean sure, looking at them you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell they share ANY genetic makeup. They are as different as different can be.

Henry towers over his brothers at just over six feet, for one. Blaine and Alex try to pass themselves off as five nine but...they’re five eight on a good day. Alex got all his features from his Irish mother. He’s as white as can be. Literally. His brown hair and brown eyes are the only things keeping him from being part of the Arian race…

 Henry, on the other hand, is the spitting image of his Filipino father. His angular features, slightly slanted chocolate brown eyes, and deep chestnut hair are a proud marker of his Asian heritage.

And then there’s Blaine. A complete mix of them both. Growing up, he had to fight (once physically) for people to understand that he is half Asian. Unlike Alex (who to this day gets the quirked eyebrow when he tells people he’s half Filipino and will sometimes, depending on the company, not even bother to mention this fact), Blaine does have Asian traits. It’s just that he has enough caucasian traits to ‘trick’ the more ignorant population.

In the end, not only are these three completely different men brothers...they actually share the exact same birthdate. 

Growing up as a triplet was an interesting experience. One that can only truly be understood by those who, themselves, grew up as a multiple.

For example, there really isn’t a way to explain the special kind of connection that sees one triplet farting on the head of another triplet while the third triplet holds him down.

Which is how we find the Anderson triplets now.

“Oh my God, get the fuck off of me!” Henry shouts, trying to bring his hands up to block the assault.

Alex laughs from somewhere above him, letting out a sigh as he completes the job, before moving from his straddle position.

“You can let him go, Blainers.” Alex says to Blaine who had been holding Henry’s shoulders and arms down.

Blaine releases Henry who immediately shrugs him off (like he had been the one to break the hold) and sits up, “I expect this shit from him,” Henry says, pointing to Alex, “but not from you.” He concludes, pointing to Blaine.

Blaine shrugs, “He had a justifiable reason.”

Henry rolls his eyes before shifting on the couch and picking up some of the papers in front of him. He’s got work to do. He’s not even sure why he agreed to have his brothers over to his apartment on the eve of potentially the biggest meeting of his career.

“So, we need to talk about what we’re going to do for Tiny’s bachelorette.” Alex says, sitting down on the other couch and picking up his beer. HE doesn’t have a high stress meeting in the morning.

But, right. That’s why they’re here. To discuss their little sister’s upcoming nuptials.

“We’re not her bridesmaids OR her maid of honour.” Blaine reminds, “Isn’t our job to go with the guys when they take Sam out?”

Alex stares aghast when Henry shrugs and nods along with the suggestion, “Ummm no!” Alex shouts, indignantly, “This is our baby sister’s wedding. Our ONLY sister’s wedding. If it’s not her big brothers’ job to take her out and get her drunk and danced upon by random strippers then I don’t know whose job it is.”

Blaine and Henry stare at their brother in silence for a moment.

“Ummm, it’s literally anyone else’s job but ours.” Henry says.

Alex rises slightly from his seat and sits down with an emphatic exhale, “You can’t be serious!” He exclaims, “To quote a very neurotic man ‘I expect this shit from him,” He says pointing at Henry, “but not from you.’” He finishes, pointing at Blaine.

Blaine’s eyes go wide and Henry can tell that Blaine’s people pleasing nature is taking a serious hit tonight. If there’s one thing Blaine Anderson can’t stand, it’s people not liking him and being disappointed in him.

“We are her *brothers*.” Alex emphasises again, “I think she’d be really hurt if we didn’t do something for her.”

Henry sighs, “But does that ‘something’ have to include naked men?” He asks, even though he already knows he’s going to agree to whatever Alex has planned. That’s how their relationship works and always has. Alex comes up with the crazy schemes, Blaine goes along with pretty much anything to stop people from being upset with him, and Henry usually acquiesces because if not...the other two would probably end up in jail.

Alex smiles like he knows he’s close, “Come on. You don’t think Tiny would get a kick out of naked men dancing for her? And besides, Blaine and I will enjoy it just as much!” He waggles his eyebrows lewdly. Alex really is a charismatic, nice guy...once you see past the frat boy exterior.

Henry sighs again as he shuffles his papers. He could mention that while Blaine and Alex (being gay and pansexual respectively) would get a kick out of a male strip club, he (as a straight man) probably wouldn’t. But...in the end he loves his brothers and sister too much to refuse…

...especially with Blaine now fully on board and the two of them looking at Henry like he has the keys to all of their hopes and dreams.

“Oh, fine.” He grumbles, even though he smiles.

The other two cheer and Henry rolls his eyes as they begin to make plans and he goes back to his notes.

-- -- --

Blaine leans over and gives Alex a brief hug as their cab pulls up in front of Blaine’s apartment later that night, “Night Al.” He says.

Alex smiles, “Night Blainers.”

Blaine’s got one foot out of the cab when Alex calls his name. He turns and raises a questioning brow at his brother, “Don’t forget to check your Tinder.” He waggles his eyebrows much like earlier. Alex spends a lot of his time waggling his eyebrows.

Blaine chuckles and rolls his eyes, “It’s not Tinder. It’s just...a regular dating app.” 

Blaine’s not ashamed of the fact that he’s trying online dating. He’s a 26-year-old single man in New York City and at least half the world is online dating. It’s worth a try. And it’s not like he’s Alex who trips and falls (sometimes literally) over a new sexual partner almost every day or Henry who is married to his job. He’s just covering his bases.

Alex smiles, “Well, just be sure to check it. And remember, only swipe right if it looks like they have a big penis.”

Blaine rolls his eyes again before giving his brother the middle finger and getting out of the car. He stands on the curb as the cab pulls into traffic on its way to Alex’s apartment ten minutes away, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket after getting hit with the wind of a late September evening chill.

When the cab turns a corner and is no longer in sight, Blaine turns and makes his way into his apartment building. It’s not the most posh of buildings but it’s comfortable. It’s home. And Blaine is proud of the fact that he is able to afford it without having to rely on his parents’ money. They’ve offered, sure, but Blaine has never wanted to rely on his parents that much.

His building is quiet this late at night and Blaine doesn’t pass a single person on his way to the fifth floor. He lets himself into his apartment, toes off his shoes, hangs up his jacket, and throws his keys into the bowl on the front table before making his way to the couch and collapsing onto it with a sigh.

Despite his eye roll at his brother, the first thing he does upon sitting down is check his dating app, ConnectSingle. It’s definitely not Tinder, no swiping of any kind required, but Blaine enjoys the fact that both parties need to indicate interest (by clicking a happy face on their basic profile) before they can contact each other or even view their whole profile. And while he feels like it’s slightly shallow, Blaine has definitely used that function to weed out some of the less...aesthetically pleasing requests.

He’s actually only communicated with three guys so far and only met up with one in person (...it didn’t go well), but he’s optimistic he’ll find someone he can really connect with. And if not? Well, he hasn’t really lost anything in trying.

He first checks to see who has given him a smiley face today. Three men seem to enjoy the picture Henry had taken of him on the beach, sunglasses reflecting the ocean and curls loose and billowing in the wind, and he considers each of their pictures before deleting them all. He feels slightly bad but figures if you sign up to online dating not expecting to be rejected sometimes, you’re doing it wrong.

He then flips to his ‘daily matches’ - men the app thinks he might like. He hems and haws over their basic profiles and decides to smiley face two; a redhead named Andy (who appeals to the side of Blaine that enjoys larger men) and a brown haired man named Kurt (who has great hair, great eyes, and a smirk Blaine may be interested in knowing more about).

It’s not as immediately satisfying as he would like it to be, clicking the smiley face. Nothing happens other than a yellow smiley face rises slightly above his thumb and then winks out, leaving a static yellow smiley face behind, but he feels accomplished. 

He closes the app and stretches on the couch, glancing at the clock to notice it’s almost 1 am. He doesn’t have anywhere immediate to go in the morning, perks of being an on call studio musician, but figures just in case he gets a call he should go to bed.

Without thinking of ConnectSingles again, he goes about his evening routine, plugs his phone in and is asleep twenty minutes later.

-- -- --

Alex could go home. It’s where he told his brother and, more importantly, the cab driver he’d be going. But as the cab driver pulls away from the curb he gets a text from his friend, Elliott, telling him he should meet him at a bar.

Alex shrugs and tells the cab driver to change his final destination. It doesn’t take much to convince Alex to go out.

When he gets to the bar, he finds Elliott leaning against the brick front wall. He’s got a foot propped up behind him, a bare knee poking out of ripped black jeans, and a cigarette burning from his lips as he looks down at his phone.

“I must reiterate - as a performer you really shouldn’t smoke.” Alex says by way of a greeting.

Elliott looks up from his phone and smirks as he pulls the cigarette from between his lips, “Old habits die hard.” He says with a shrug before flicking the mostly unsmoked cigarette to the ground and pulling Alex into a hug, “Good to see you, man.”

“You too.” Alex says returning the hug, “Any particular reason you dragged me out of bed on this cold night to meet you at a bar at 1 am?”

Elliott rolls his eyes, “If you were in bed, I promise that was the last smoke of my life.”

Alex purses his lips to hide his smile before sighing, “Damnit, fine, I wasn’t in bed.” Elliott laughs and puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder, pulling him forward into the bar.

The noise from inside the bar gets unsurprisingly louder as they enter but luckily not so loud that it makes talking impossible. They may have to raise their voices slightly to be heard but Alex knows he won’t be leaving with burst ear drums.

“We were just having a really great night and I thought you should be a part of it.” Elliott explains.

Alex nods, enjoying that Elliott thought to include him, “We?” He asks as they make their way to the bar.

Elliott shrugs, “Just a bunch of people from the theatre.” He calls.

It’s not wall to wall packed in the bar but it’s busy enough that Alex accidentally runs into someone on their walk from the door to the bar. He ‘oofs’ at the impact and then is immediately apologetic as the person he hit turns around.

The words die on his lips when a set of cool blue eyes make eye contact with him. An eyebrow is quirked above those eyes and pink lips wrap around a straw as they regard Alex. Alex notices the slight pull in of the cheeks attached to the lips as they suck up liquid.

He’s broken from his stare when Elliott laughs, “Alex? Kurt. Kurt? Alex.”

Alex feels Elliott pat his shoulder a few times before the other man is gone, leaving Kurt and Alex still looking at each other. Alex watches as Kurt’s tongue flicks out to play with the straw still between his lips and Alex is transfixed.

“Hi.” He breathes, suddenly wishing he had worn a better outfit to Henry’s than his faded jeans and white button up shirt with tiny rubber ducks on it.

“Hi.” Kurt answers back with a smile.

-- -- --

Henry fidgets the next morning as he sits outside the office the nice receptionist directed him to. His knee bounces and he shuffles through the papers in his folder, wishing he could stop the sweat he can feel building under his suit jacket.

He’s prepared, he knows he is, but a job interview for a large production company is a lot different than working out of a one room studio with guys you went to college with.

Henry checks his watch and realizes he’s probably got another ten minutes to wait - he’s always extremely early to all things, something he wishes he could teach his brother. 

As if summoned by Henry’s thought, his phone buzzes in his pocket and a text from Alex pops up.

Alex

You got this brother! Now I’m going back to sleep.

Henry chuckles softly and doesn’t bother to respond. Alex is probably already asleep again. 

He’s still looking at his phone when a second text comes in, this time from Blaine.

Blaine

You are more than ready for this, Henry. Call me after to let me know how it goes.

Henry smiles at the texts on his screen and feel bolstered by their support. He texts Blaine back to thank him and tell him he will call him after, before pocketing his phone and going back to bouncing his knee.

“Can I...get you something to drink?” A hesitant voice asks to Henry’s left.

He jumps slightly and turns to find a well dressed man with high chestnut hair and a soft smile looking at him like you might a spooked animal.

Henry chuckles and can feel his cheeks blush slightly in embarrassment at how ridiculous he must look, “The receptionist already offered and I’m good. But thank you.”

The man nods but doesn’t immediately depart. Instead he continues to look at Henry with a calculating expression, “Job interview?” He asks, finally.

Henry bites his lip, “Is it that obvious?”

The man shrugs and gestures to the seat next to Henry. Henry also gestures to the seat with a nod and the man sits, crossing one long leg over the other, “I don’t think anyone else would notice. I just recall with ridiculous clarity my own nerves when I interviewed for a job here.”

Henry nods, “But obviously it went well for you.”

The man seems to preen, his swooped hair swaying slightly as he shakes his head and Henry finds himself smiling, “Obviously.” The man says and while it should come across as cocky, it doesn’t and Henry finds his nerves easing. The man smiles and holds out a hand, “Kurt.” He says.

Henry takes the hand and shakes it warmly, “Henry.”

Kurt smiles, “Well, Henry, what do you say I take you out for a coffee to celebrate after your interview?”

And suddenly Henry is nervous again but this time it has nothing to do with his interview.

-- -- --

Blaine stretches like a cat in a sun spot and hums as he squints at the bright sun shining through his bedroom window. He loves to wake up to the sun.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand and he rolls over to grab it. He’s got three notifications on his phone. One is a text from Alex sent at 3:43 am.

Alex

Duuuuuude you will not believe the night I’ve had!

Blaine chuckles and figures texting Alex back now would yield no fruit. It’s only 9 am, Alex would be asleep for hours yet. 

The second notification is reminding him that Henry has a job interview this morning. He silently thanks himself for setting the reminder and quickly shoots a text to his brother for support.

The last notification is from ConnectSingle. Blaine has a match! It’s not quite as exciting as it was when he first got the app but he’ll admit to a tiny thrill going through him at the prospect of mutual interest. He wonders if it’s Andy or Kurt from last night or one of the other people he’s smiley faced in the past.

He thumbs open the app and notices first that Andy’s name is no longer on his ‘pending’ list which means the other man deleted Blaine’s profile. It stings a little but then he smiles when he sees a green smiley face next to Kurt’s name and picture (indicating a reciprocated interest) and an email attachment. He presses the email and settles back against the pillow to read what his new match has to say.

Blaine,

Hi! My name’s Kurt. Though I guess you already knew that... (Blaine chuckles softly) Anyway! Thank you for ‘smiling’ at me. You have a great actual smile :) I’d be interested to learn more about you - your profile says you’re a musician? Message me back if you’re interested in chatting!

Kurt

It’s simple but it still makes Blaine kicky feet just the tiniest bit under his blankets. He bites his lip and reads the message again before opening a reply box and typing his own message back.

Kurt

Hello! It’s great to ‘meet’ you. You also have a really great smile and might I add you have stunning eyes (is ‘stunning’ too much for a first email?) I am a musician! I’m a freelance studio musician, which, believe it or not, makes me a pretty decent living. Your profile says you like cars - Driving them? Working on them? Sitting in them? (I promise not to judge if it’s the last one). Hope to hear from you soon!

Blaine :)

As always, Blaine reads his message four times before hitting send and then rereads it again for any stupid things he may have said. He’s pretty happy with what he sent though and as he heads to the shower he’s already anticipating Kurt’s response.

-- -- --

“You are a God among men!” Alex exclaims as he walks out the front entrance to his apartment building later that afternoon to find Blaine standing outside with a coffee cup extended in one hand.

Blaine chuckles as his brother takes the cup, slings an arm around his shoulder and noisily kisses his cheek, “Well, I figured you would have just gotten up.” Blaine says as the pair start to walk down the street.

Alex hums around a sip of delicious coffee before nodding, “Within the last hour.”

“I still don’t understand how you can sustain this lifestyle.” Blaine says with a shake of his head. He knows that, out of the three of them, Alex relies most heavily on their parents to make ends meet and that his job as an evening bread baker at a small bakery means he doesn’t work typical hours (though who is Blaine to talk?) but sometimes he worries that Alex isn’t taking care of himself as well as he could.

Alex fidgets with the beanie he has on over his undoubtedly messy brown hair and shrugs with an easy smile, “Hey, man, when it works, it works.”

Blaine nods to concede the point, for now, as they round the corner on the street the bakery Alex works at is on, “So, what was so unbelievable about your night last night?”

Alex perks up at the mention and seems to skip along next to Blaine, “I met someone!”

Blaine rolls his eyes affectionately, “You are always ‘meeting someone’.”

Alex nods but smacks Blaine lightly, “I know but this guy is different. He’s...amazing!”

Blaine smiles, “Well, I’m happy for you.” He says, “Are you seeing him again?”

Sometimes, Blaine gets jealous over how easily Alex meets people. Granted as a pansexual, his pool of potential partners is larger than Blaine’s, but there’s just something so magnetic about Alex and he doesn’t seem to have any insecurities holding him back.

Alex presses his lips together and nods, “Tomorrow night!”

Blaine tries not to let his shock show. For as often as Alex hooks up with people, he usually doesn’t see the same person more than once. Blaine has asked that question of Alex a lot and usually gets a shrug and a ‘probably not’. Now, Alex seems genuinely excited.

“That’s amazing. Did you sleep with him last night?” Blaine asks as they come to a stop outside Alex’s work.

“Now, Blainers, you know a man does not kiss and tell!” Alex scoffs but then smirks, “But...there was kissing.” And there is the eyebrow waggle.

Blaine laughs, “Well, you’ll have to keep me updated.” He says.

“Speaking of updated,” Alex says, “Have you heard from our enigmatic big brother today about his interview?”

Blaine furrows his brow, “Not since before it happened. I told him to call me afterwards.”

Alex pouts his lips thoughtfully, “Maybe it went so well he had to go home and masturbate to his work success.”

Blaine half laughs and half groans, “That is not a visual I needed.” Alex shrugs with a chuckle, “But I’ll message him and find out how it went. Have a good shift. I’ll see Friday at Mom and Dad’s?”

Alex nods, “Okay, let me know what he says.” Because texting Henry himself would be too much work?, “And you sure will see me Friday, baby brother!”

Blaine rolls his eyes again, “I am not the baby!”

Alex clicks his tongue and shrugs, “Last one out is always the baby.”

“I am literally one minute ‘younger’ than you.” Blaine huffs complete with sarcastic finger quotes.

“And what a glorious minute it was.” Alex says with a wistful sigh and then dodges when Blaine tries to hit him in the head. 

Alex waves without further ado and then heads into the bakery to start his shift, leaving Blaine on the sidewalk to pull out his phone. He’s about to open his text app to message Henry when a red bubbled one by the ConnectSingles app draws his attention.

He opens it with a giddy flutter of his stomach to find a new message from Kurt. He starts walking down the crowded street while he opens the email to read it (he’s lived in New York all his life, he’s an expert at phone reading and dodging people at the same time).

Blaine,

‘Freelance studio musician’ sounds fascinating. Do you know how to play a lot of instruments? As for my interest in cars, it’s all about working on them (who enjoys just sitting in cars? :P lol). My dad owns a garage in my hometown and I’ve been fixing cars since I could hold a wrench. I think he secretly wanted me to take over the business but fixing cars was always a hobby, not a vocation for me.

...Is that an overshare for a second message? I’m fairly new to this online thing. If it is, pretend I didn’t say anything.

Musicals! (I’m very good at subtly subject changes…) Are you a fan of musicals? I don’t like to assume just because a person is gay but I love musicals. They’re a big part of my life. So, I like to know right off the bat if I’m talking to a like minded person.

Talk soon?

Kurt

Blaine can feel the goofy smile on his face and isn’t sure why he feels the need to try and tamp it down. It’s New York City, there are way weirder things happening than a guy smiling down at his phone. He can’t get over how adorable Kurt seems just from two messages. He usually likes to play it slow, wait a while after receiving a message before messaging back but he opens the return message box immediately and crafts a response at the next stop light.

Kurt

I do know how to play a lot of instruments. I’m kind of a jack of all trades but master of none type? My parents put me in piano when I was kid and it’s actually the only instrument I’m classically trained in. Everything else I just picked up along the way. I think my parents secretly wanted me to be a concert pianist but classical music was always more a hobby than a true vocation for me (I don’t think you overshared but just in case you still think you did...I thought I’d ‘overshare’ back :) 

I absolutely love musicals! Don’t ask me to pick a favourite, I simply couldn’t. Do you have a favourite? Let me guess...Wicked? You strike me as someone who would really appreciate the brilliance of Idina and Kristin. But maybe I’m wrong - I’m happy either way!

Blaine :)

P.S. You said your dad has a garage in your hometown? Where’s that? I grew up in Manhattan myself.

Blaine’s almost home by the time he finishes typing and he hits send before he can second guess himself. On his way up the stairs, he dials Henry’s number only to have the phone go to voicemail. Blaine’s brow furrows as he gets to his apartment. It’s not like his brother always picks up the phone when he calls, it’s just unusual when he doesn’t.

Shrugging, Blaine texts Henry to get him to call him back when he has a moment and then he starts about making dinner. He tries very hard not to check his phone compulsively for a message from Kurt.

-- -- --

Henry is in the middle of an existential crisis. 

He hates to think of it as such. Out of his brothers he’s the level-headed one. Always has been. Blaine has an existential crisis every second week and Alex is too laid back to have anything resembling a crisis of any kind about anything ever. But Henry is always the one who thinks things through. Who sees pros and cons and the black and white of everything and comes to a logical conclusion about all things...

...this afternoon had felt anything but logical or black and white…

He’d walked out of the two hour interview with shaking hands but a smile on his face and a contract in his pocket. He was elated if not a little shaken by the whole experience. He’d almost bumped into Kurt standing just down the hall from the room the interview had taken place.

“So?” Kurt had said with a hopeful expression, “Are we coworkers? Am I taking you out for celebratory coffee?”

Henry had smiled at the man and nodded, “They offered me a job.”

Kurt’s face had lit up and while Henry’s first thought had been to wonder why this virtual stranger was so invested in whether he got a job or not, Kurt’s obvious joy made Henry’s joy that much more palpable. 

“Well, then, shall we head to the coffee shop? Drinks on me, obviously.” 

And then he winked.

It had hit Henry suddenly, and probably would have hit him sooner had he not been so worked up about his interview, that he was being hit on. It hadn’t been the first time he’d been hit on by a guy and he likes to think even if he didn’t have one gay brother and one pansexual brother that he would have been evolved enough to not be offended or hostile but usually when faced with this situation he would smile politely and say he wasn’t interested.

At that moment, however, he hadn’t wanted to say ‘no’...so he hadn’t. 

“That sounds great.” He’d smiled.

Their coffee date had been amazing. Henry had spent the first hour after getting home trying to tell himself it hadn’t been a date but has come to the acceptance part of his crisis. It had been a date. A date with a man. A date with a man he’d actually enjoyed.

Kurt had bought the drinks and then the pair had sat across from each other at the small coffee shop talking about the job Henry had just gotten and what Kurt did for the company (he runs costume design for the theatrical branch of the production company). They talked about musicals (Henry had actually mentally thanked Blaine for forcing him to watch so many over the years), and they talked about football (only briefly after Henry realized it wasn’t up Kurt’s alley).

When Kurt had said he needed to get home, Henry had actually felt bereft. He knew even in that moment he needed to go home and freak out about what exactly was happening but he also didn’t want whatever was happening to end. 

They had exchanged phone numbers and Kurt had told him he’d see him the next day at work. And then he winked again. Henry can still feel the blush from that wink almost two hours later.

When his phone buzzed with a phone call from Blaine an hour and a half into his crisis, he’d let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t in a place to talk to his brother. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. ‘Hey, Blaine! Yeah, I got a job and a boyfriend today!’

That thought had caused a spiral that Henry has been in for the last half hour. He does NOT have a boyfriend and one coffee date does not an anything make let alone a boyfriend but the fact that he had the thought means he’s thinking about Kurt in that way. He’s thinking about a man in a romantic way. This is not something he’s ever experienced before.

And suddenly, Blaine seems like the perfect person to talk to about this.

He gropes from his prone position on his couch for the phone he’d tossed onto the coffee table when it had rung with Blaine’s call. He dials his brother’s number and puts a hand over his eyes while he waits for the call to connect.

“Hey!” Blaine answers, happily, “How’d it go?”

Henry knows Blaine is asking about the interview but again his thoughts go to Kurt. He shakes his head to rid himself of the impulsive thought and answers Blaine’s question, “I got it.” He says.

Blaine whoops on the other end of the line, “I knew you would! That is amazing!”

Henry smiles, “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Blaine’s celebration dies off, “Why do you not sound over the moon about this? Is this because of Vance? He was the one who told you to go for this!” Vance is one of Henry’s best friends, one of the men he works with (or he figures it’s now ‘worked’ with). Vance had indeed pushed Henry to interview for the larger company.

“No, no. It’s not about Vance.” Henry answers.

“Then what is it?” Blaine asks and the earnestness in Blaine’s voice opens a flood gate.

“I met someone today.” Henry confesses.

“Oh!” He can tell Blaine is suprised. Henry doesn’t date. Hasn’t had a girlfriend since his junior year of high school. He’ll unpack what exactly that says about him later… “And that’s upsetting?” Blaine asks.

Henry grimaces, “Not in and of itself, I guess.” He starts, “It’s just...it’s a guy?” He says it like a question and then feels slightly queasy afterwards.

The line is silent for a long time, longer than Henry can stand without starting to feel even sicker, before Blaine lets out a breath, “That’s...awesome.”

Henry scrunches his eyes closed, “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He can almost picture Blaine nodding on the other end of the line, “And nor do you have to.” Blaine reassures, “Just answer me one thing: did you have fun with him?”

“Yes.” Henry answers.

“Then focus on that.” Blaine says and Henry can hear the smile in his voice, “Leave the other stuff to the side for now. I know you, and I know you want to figure everything out and this puts a little bit of a kink into the careful order of your life but if it makes you happy then that’s all that matters.”

Henry lets out of a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Blaine’s words unravel a knot he’s felt in his chest all afternoon and while he knows he’s not done freaking out about this, he’s willing to allow the happiness to overpower it. Blaine had been the right one to call.

“And Henry, if you have any...questions or you just need to talk things out, you know I’m only a phone call away, right?” Henry nods into the phone, getting a little choked up at the offer.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He breathes out.

“Anytime.” Blaine says, “Now, do you want to tell me more about your job or your date?”

Henry bites his lip as he smiles, “Both?”

“I’m all ears.” Blaine says.

-- -- --

The next night, Alex leaves work to once again find a man on the sidewalk waiting for him but instead of his brother, this time it’s Kurt. He smiles at the man and waves as he approaches.

Kurt waves back before putting his hand back into the pocket of his jacket where it had emerged from, “Hey. It’s good to see you again.” He says.

Alex smiles, “Same to you.”

They stare at each other for a few beats before Kurt tilts his head over his shoulder, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat?”

Alex chuckles, “Uh, that sounds nice but I have to admit, working at a bakery means I rarely leave a shift hungry. Samples and all that.”

Kurt chuckles as well and then shrugs, “Then what did you have in mind?”

Alex has a few things in mind and when he smiles at Kurt, who smiles back, he figures Kurt is thinking the same thing.

“I have some snacks at my apartment?” Alex offers with a grin.

He can see Kurt’s cheeks pink slightly as the other man ducks his head in an adorably, flirtatious way, “Lead the way.”

-- -- --

Blaine scrolls through his messages from Kurt over the past four days on the train to his parents’ place. He’s got more messages in their thread than he does in all his other threads combined. He actually hasn’t messaged anyone else since he and Kurt started talking but even if he had, he is sure the frequency with which they chat would have surpassed any other conversation Blaine would be having.

The pair have covered so many topics in their messages that Blaine wonders if there is anything left to share. He hasn’t shared this much about himself so fast to another person ever, let alone a person he’s never met in person. Usually by the time he knows this much about a person they’ve been dating for a few months. He and Kurt have been messaging for four days…

He’s just finished drafting an email suggesting that he and Kurt meet up when he gets to his stop. He hits send and then pockets his phone before exiting the train and taking the stairs to the surface. The air is colder than he expected and he hunkers down in his coat for the five minute walk to his parents’ brownstone. His childhood home.

He’s turning onto their street when he sees Henry coming from the other direction. He throws a hand up in a wave that his brother returns and they make their way toward each other. They haven’t really talked since their phone call but Blaine knows Henry usually needs to work things out in his own head first. He’ll come to Blaine when and if he needs to.

“Hey.” Blaine says when they meet up outside the house, embracing his brother in a hug that has him standing on his tiptoes.

“Hey.” Henry answers before they pull away from each other.

“Everything...okay?” Blaine asks, not wanting to push.

Henry smiles, “Getting there, yeah.” He says.

Blaine smiles and nods, appeased for now, and the pair make their way up the stairs to the front door. It opens before they get there to reveal a tiny ball of energy on the other side.

“My boys!” Amelia Anderson shouts for the whole street to hear and then launches herself into first Blaine’s arms and then Henry’s.

Both men laugh as they absorb their sister’s hug. Amelia is four years younger than her brothers and at twenty-two years old is only five foot three inches tall, prompting her brothers to nickname her…

“Hey Tiny!” Blaine smiles.

Amelia smiles back before gesturing for the men to come inside, “Come, come. Dinner’s almost ready and Al’s already here talking to Dad about some new spice for bread?” She shrugs as Henry and Blaine take off their coats and shoes.

“Is that my other two boys?” The trio hear called from, undoubtedly, the kitchen before Fiona Anderson emerges.

“Mama!” Henry says, pulling their mother to him.

“Oh, it just fills my heart to the brim when all my babies are home.” Fiona gushes as she turns to pull Blaine into a hug and then Amelia even though Amelia lives in the house and has probably been there all day. Their mother is never short on hugs.

“It’s good to be home.” Blaine smiles.

Fiona reaches out and strokes his olive-toned cheek with her pale hand, “Go say hello to your father before dinner.” She says before shooing them in the direction of the living room.

When they enter, Blaine sees Alex showing their father, Daniel Anderson, something on his phone. Daniel looks up when they enter and smiles large, patting Alex’s arm in apparent apology before getting up to hug his other sons. 

“My boys.” Daniel says reverently, cupping both Henry and Blaine’s cheeks in his hands and looking between them.

Blaine loves his parents, even if they act like they haven’t seen their children in months when it’s really been only a week. The Anderson’s grew up with family dinners every Sunday and the tradition continued even with the three boys moving out on their own. 

“Tell me what’s new.” Daniel asks, sitting back down as Blaine and Henry sit next to Alex on the couch after saying hello and Amelia settles on the ground by the coffee table.

The five chat about work and other sundry topics until their mother calls them for dinner. They settle into their usual spots.

“No Sam tonight?” Blaine asks, noticing the spot next to Amelia, usually reserved for her fiance, is empty.

“He’s at work.” Amelia offers, “Though he has made me promise to bring him leftovers.” She says and Fiona laughs.

“I’ll wrap some up after dinner if your brothers don’t eat it all.” She says with an affectionate glance at the three men sitting along one side of the table.

Dinner conversation is more the same as their conversation in the den until Amelia gets a sneaky look on her face, “So...anybody dating anyone new?”

Blaine swallows and feels the weight of his phone in his jeans pocket more acutely. He’s not nervous to tell his family about Kurt, he just doesn’t know how to tell them and his family can be...a lot sometimes when it comes to relationships. Or anything really.

He glances at his brothers, who are looking back at him and then at each other. Blaine wonders if he’s the only one who knows they actually all have something to tell.

In the end, they all shrug.

“Nothing to report.” Alex answers, seemingly for all of them.

Mercifully, talk turns away from their dating lives and to Amelia’s upcoming wedding. Blaine’s actually surprised it has taken them this long into the evening to start talking about it (it sometimes feels like it’s all they talk about) and Blaine enjoys the excited squeal Amelia gives when Alex mentions their plan to take her out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he jolts slightly at the table. His fingers itch to pull his phone out but the rule has always been no phones at the table. He’ll have to wait until he’s on his way home. The waiting is torture even though he loves hanging out with his family.

When they finally wrap up the evening with several rounds of hugs, Blaine and Alex make their way to the subway together (after seeing Henry off in the other direction to a different train).

Blaine’s got his phone out as soon as he’s sitting in the, thankfully, sparsely populated car.

“Any plans for the night?” Alex asks as he lounges next to Blaine, munching on left over rolls from dinner.

Blaine doesn’t answer right away - instead reading the last message from Kurt.

Blaine

I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels like I know so much about you before we’ve even met. I’d love to meet up in person. I know you said you’ll be at your parents house tonight but...any chance I can interest you in a nightcap? We could meet at Coffee Project whenever you're done at your parents? Text me if you’re interested :)

Kurt

212-967-1253

Blaine has no idea where Coffee Project is but he’s already looking up directions when Alex hits him.

“Uh, what?” He asks, looking up in a daze.

Alex quirks an eyebrow at him, “I asked if you had plans for tonight.”

Blaine smiles, “I do now.”

-- -- --

Blaine opens the door to Coffee Project a half hour later and even though it’s late, a few heads turn at the sound of the bell over the door. Blaine’s hoping one of the heads is Kurt’s and he has a fleeting moment to hope Kurt actually looks like his profile picture when his worries are assuaged by a swivelling head at a table near the back.

Kurt looks exactly like his profile picture except he’s even better looking in person. The way his eyes light up when he sees Blaine at the door is something you can’t really capture in a picture.

“Hey!” Kurt enthuses when Blaine gets close. He’s up out of his seat and pulling Blaine into his arms before Blaine can say anything.

It should feel strange to hug someone he’s never met but it doesn’t. He’s met Kurt in every way except the physical (not that he hasn’t thought about the physical...but he digresses), so it feels natural to hug him close.

“Hi.” Blaine whispers as they part and sit on either side of the table.

“I ordered you a medium drip with some cinnamon. I hope that’s okay? You mentioned it was your drink of choice.” Kurt seems a little nervous but he’s smiling excitedly and even if Kurt was just nervous, Blaine’s excited enough for the both of them.

“No, that’s perfect.” He says, lifting his cup in a cheers motion before taking a sip.

Kurt shifts in his seat, “So, I know this is technically our first date but every topic of conversation I could think of while I waited for you we’ve already covered in our emails. This doesn’t feel like a first date.”

Blaine shakes his head, “It really doesn’t.”

Kurt nods, “How was your parents’ house?” 

“It was wonderful as usual.” Blaine smiles and Kurt smiles back.

They make small talk for a while, complete with goofy grins at each other, before Blaine scratches his chin and looks out the front window, “What is it?” Kurt asks.

Blaine coughs and loses his nerve at the last moment to ask Kurt back to his place. He may feel like he’s known this man for a lot longer than four days virtually and about an hour in person, but the reality is they don’t know each other at all. And Blaine’s romantic nature is screaming at him to take this slow because this could be the real deal. He doesn’t want his baser instincts to scare Kurt off.

He shakes his head with a smile, “Nothing. Do you want to go for a walk?”

It’s probably a little too cold for a walk outside but Manhattan seems to glow around them as they walk slowly through the still populated street. It’s one of Blaine’s favourite things about New York - it truly never sleeps.

“So you said your brother is taking over the garage from your dad when he retires?” Blaine says as they follow a path through a small park.

Kurt nods, “Yeah. I sometimes wonder if my dad is secretly disappointed I never wanted to take it over.”

Blaine shrugs, “Are you the oldest?”

Kurt pouts slightly before ‘ah’ing and then chuckling, “Did I not mention Finn is my step-brother? Not my biological brother?”

“You did not.” Blaine answers and the pair laugh.

Kurt stops at a rusty swing set in the park and sits down on one, curling one arm around the chain. Blaine sits next to him and mirrors his position. The metal is freezing under his palm but he leaves his hand where it is and rocks his feet in the sand to swing himself back and forth slightly.

“My dad remarried when I was fifteen.” Kurt shares, “To the mother of a boy at my school. Same grade as me. It was...interesting.”

“Were you two friends in school?” Blaine asks.

Kurt chuckles slightly, but Blaine’s not sure why the question was funny, “Not really.” Kurt answers, “At all. We didn’t run in the same circles. His circle was more interested in making my circle’s life hell. Me specifically.”

Blaine feels instantly angry at people he’s never met. He pictures a younger Kurt getting bullied and wants to punch someone. He tries to tell himself his anger comes only from his own similar school experience.

“He was never really someone who bullied me. He just...didn’t do anything about it either. But then things started to change. It took a while - even after our parents married - but now I sometimes forget to tell people he’s my stepbrother.” Kurt shrugs, “He’s just been my brother for a lot of years now.”

Blaine smiles at the soft smile on Kurt’s face before the other man’s face is scrunching up, “I’m once again oversharing too soon, aren’t I?” He asks, “I’m, honestly, not usually like this.”

Blaine shifts so he’s more fully facing Kurt on the swing, “Hey, no. It’s totally fine. I…” He hesitates, “I want to know everything about you.”

Kurt’s eyes light up and he gives a little inhale through a slightly open mouth. Blaine can’t be one hundred percent sure, because the lighting isn’t amazing, but he thinks he sees Kurt’s cheeks pinken.

Blaine shrugs, “And if it helps you any, I once walked in on my parents having sex when I was fifteen and they sat me down the next day and gave me a very indepth, and scarring, sex talk.”

His anecdote has the desired effect and Kurt laughs heartily. Blaine smiles at the lyrical sound.

Kurt puts a hand up to his mouth as his laugh turns into a chuckle, “Are you serious? Or did you just make that up to make me feel better about oversharing?”

Blaine winces slightly which just makes Kurt laugh more, “Unfortunately, I am completely serious. I couldn’t think of anything remotely sexual for months after.”

This admission only makes Kurt laugh again.

-- -- --

A half hour, and one slide down the red metal slide at the park for each of them later, Kurt and Blaine walk toward Kurt’s apartment. Blaine actually feels himself slowing his pace. Despite the late hour, he doesn’t want this night to end.

“I had a really good time tonight.” He says.

Kurt smiles, “So did I.”

They come to a stop outside Kurt’s building and they hesitate, facing each other with shy smiles and hands stuffed in their coat pockets for warmth.

“I’d really like to see you again.” Blaine says.

Kurt bites his lip slightly and, even though it’s a cliche, Blaine’s eyes dip down at the movement before flicking back up.

“I’d really like to see you again as well.” Kurt whispers and then Blaine can take it no longer. He’s been waiting all night.

Without preamble, he pulls one hand from his pocket and rests it on Kurt’s elbow before ducking in and up and pressing his lips to Kurt’s. Kurt breathes in quickly before he’s kissing back. It’s short but amazing and they pull back with equally breathless expressions.

“Good night, Kurt. I’ll text you.” Blaine whispers, still leaning into Kurt’s space.

Kurt blinks at him before smiling, “Night Blaine. And not if I text you first.”

And then with a wink, Kurt pulls away and walks toward his building. He turns at the door to wave at Blaine over his shoulder with another smile, and Blaine waves back before Kurt enters the building and out of his sight.

Blaine has to quell the impulse to jump and click his heels together in joy before making his way down the street to hail a cab home.

-- -- --

Two days later, Henry sits at a counter by himself. There are people around but none of them give much notice to the nervous man at the counter whose knee is bouncing so frantically that Henry is sure he’s going to injure himself. 

He keeps glancing around, eyes darting around the room like at any moment someone is going to come and arrest him just for sitting. Well, if he’s being honest it’s not the sitting he thinks he’s going to be arrested for.

He shakes his head at the thought. He’s not going to get arrested for any of this. Ugh, he should have called Blaine again before this.

“Hey!” He hears from behind him and spins to see Kurt standing there. He’s unwinding a scarf from his neck and he looks...beautiful. It’s the only way Henry can describe him.

“Hi.” Henry says around a suddenly dry mouth.

Kurt smiles and looks around as he takes his jacket off, “So...bowling.” He says and his smile turns slightly confused.

Henry coughs, “Uh yeah. Is that okay? I...it felt like a good idea.”

Kurt smiles, “I haven’t been bowling in years, and I’ll admit I’m not at all good, but I’m willing to give it a shot...” He pauses and looks down the counter toward where a man is handing out bowling shoes, “as long as I can get shoes that go with my outfit.”

Henry laughs, nervously, before his eyes are once again darting around. He had almost convinced himself that his wandering eyes before had been in search of Kurt but now that Kurt is here…

His eyes land back on Kurt who is looking at him with a serious face. Henry shifts under the gaze and tries to laugh again but it comes out as more of a groan to his ears.

Kurt licks his lips (and Henry jolts when he realizes how easily his eyes followed the motion) before the other man is nodding, “Hey, I’m kind of hungry. Do you mind if we grab something to eat before bowling? I saw a little cafe down the street.”

Henry feels his chest expand and suddenly getting out of the crowded bowling alley seems like the best idea ever. He nods and grabs his coat while Kurt puts his own back on. They walk in companionable silence to the cafe at the end of the street and it is mercifully empty except for a kind looking waiter around their age and what sounds like a cook in the back room kitchen.

“Hi!” The waiter smiles, “Have a seat wherever and I’ll be right with you.”

Kurt gestures to the back of the cafe and the pair sit opposite each other in a booth. By the time they take off their jackets and lay them down beside them the waiter is at their table with menus.

“Can I start you with a drink?” He asks.

“I’ll just have a coffee.” Kurt smiles.

“Same.” Henry says when the waiter looks at him. The waiter nods and then leaves them alone.

The pair is quiet once they are alone and Henry can feel Kurt’s gaze on him. Henry is more comfortable in the cafe but he’s still not COMFORTABLE.

“Can I ask you something?” Kurt asks softly. Henry nods but Kurt waits while the waiter puts down their drinks, says he’ll be back later to take their orders, and leaves before continuing, “Are you married?”

Henry chokes on the sip of coffee he is drinking and he sputters and coughs. Kurt waits with a slightly quirked eyebrow and smirk while Henry calms and then laughs, “No. No, I’m not married.”

Kurt smiles fully, “Okay. That’s good. For my purposes anyway.” He says, “Can I ask you something else?” Henry indicates for him to go ahead, “Is this the first time you’ve gone out with a guy?”

Henry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding and can feel himself start to shake a little. Kurt folds his hands in front him lightly and just gives him a soft, open smile and slowly Henry calms enough to nod.

Kurt nods, “Well, don’t I feel special?” He says, swiping a hand over the chestnut swoop of hair on top of his head. The question makes Henry laugh which he assumes was the point and Kurt breaks character to chuckle with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m kind of a mess.” Henry says after a moment.

Kurt smiles, somewhat sadly, and shakes his head, “You’re not a mess. At all. And besides, you should have seen me at fifteen.” Kurt’s eyes widen briefly as if he’s remembering something terrible.

“Something tells me you were never a mess.” Henry says.

Kurt shrugs, “Well, okay, maybe you aren’t wrong.”

The pair chuckles and then smile at each other for a moment before Henry clears his throat, “I don’t really know what I’m doing but I...like spending time with you.”

Kurt nods, “Then that is what we shall do. Spend time together.” He makes a show of picking up the menu and opening it with a flourish before smiling over at Henry, “I like spending time with you too.”

Henry smiles and breathes easier than he has all day.

-- -- --

Over the next few weeks, final preparations for Amelia’s wedding are in full swing and the Anderson triplets are put to work doing everything from helping to make party favours (to which Alex had said: ‘We’re rich - can’t someone else make these?’), to helping create a playlist for the reception (‘Blaine, you need to help. Sam only wants country!’), to going to final tux fittings, among other things. They also spend a good portion of time planning their night out with Amelia. Alex is in charge of most of the planning for that but Blaine and Henry check in to make sure everything is under control and nothing planned is illegal.

They also spend more time with Kurt. Alex finds for the first time in his twenty-six years, he’s excited about the prospect of seeing where things go with only one guy. Henry is beginning to understand, and freak out less about, his feelings surrounding Kurt and he’s been dipping his toes into the experience (including but not limited to his first kiss with a man - a fact he only freaked out internally, and to Blaine, about a little bit). Blaine gets a breathless feeling whenever he thinks about Kurt, which is often, and he literally has to turn his phone off sometimes to keep from texting the other man continuously.

Somehow, even weeks later, none of them are aware that they are actually dating the same person...but they are all getting closer to asking Kurt to be their date for Amelia’s wedding.

“Hey Tiny?” Blaine asks one night as he and his sister sit in their parents’ living room tying bows onto plastic bags holding green and peach mints.

“Hmmm?” Amelia hums as she focuses on her current bow.

“Is it cool if I invite someone to your wedding?” Blaine asks.

Amelia looks up and lowers her hands, complete with bag and untied bow, to the table with a soft thud. Blaine had realized when he had thought of asking Kurt to the wedding, that because he’d never gotten an actual invitation (‘Your invitation is implied and your acceptance is non-negotiable’ Amelia had told the three of them) he wasn’t sure if he had been granted a plus one. Now, with Amelia looking at him with a shocked expression, he suddenly feels like a plus one had not been something she had intended to extend to him.

But then Amelia had slumped and hit him in the arm lightly, “Of course you can have a plus one!” She says and Blaine smiles before Amelia shrugs, “I had assumed you and Alex would bring someone and then felt bad for not assuming Henry would, so I just planned for three extra people just in case.”

Blaine chuckles, “Well I haven’t asked him yet but...thanks.”

Amelia smiles, “No thanks necessary, Blaine. But there is a condition to having a plus one.” Blaine’s eyebrows lift at his sister’s serious expression as she points at him, “You have to tell me about this amazing man who makes you smile like that.”

-- -- --

Blaine opens the door to his apartment later that week to find Kurt smiling at him from the other side. He smiles back and gestures for Kurt to enter. He watches as Kurt takes in the low lighting and candles on the table set for two in Blaine’s small kitchen.

“Wow! Colour me impressed.” Kurt says as he takes his jacket off.

Blaine chuckles softly and shrugs as he takes the proffered jacket and hangs it in the front closet, “I just wanted something a little...special.”

Kurt gives him a tiny, shy smile and Blaine smiles back before gesturing to the table, “Dinner’s ready so please, have a seat.”

Kurt smiles, “Mind if I wash up first? Subway germs.” He says, spreading his fingers in front of himself in a slight jazz hands motion.

Blaine chuckles, “Dastard subway germs.” He winks before gesturing down the hall, “Bathroom’s the second door on your right.” 

Once Kurt has returned and is seated at the table, Blaine grabs the bottle of wine from the counter. He pours some into Kurt’s glass and his own while Kurt takes his napkin and lays it over his lap.

“Are you...planning to purpose tonight?” Kurt jokes when Blaine sits down after serving them each a bowl of pasta.

Blaine chuckles and shakes his head as he looks down at his lap, “It hadn’t crossed my mind, no.” He says looking back up at Kurt to find the other man smirking at him.

“Darn.” Kurt winks before lifting his glass and offering Blaine a toast, “To fancy non-proposal dinners.”

Blaine laughs again and clinks his glass with Kurt’s. They both take a sip, looking at each other over the rims of their glasses, before picking up their forks and beginning to eat.

Kurt moans at his first bite, “This is amazing!” He enthuses.

Blaine coughs at his body’s reaction to the moan before nodding, “Thanks. Old family recipe.”

“Well, if it wouldn’t make this whole situation completely inappropriate, I’d say I’d want to be your new brother just to get this recipe.” Kurt laughs.

Dinner passes with easy, flirtatious conversation and before long the pair is on the couch with their wine. They both have a leg pulled up and are sitting sideways, knees touching, and their bodies get closer and closer as they talk, and before long, they’re kissing.

They’ve shared quite a few kisses by this point but they never fail to take Blaine’s breath away. He curls in closer to Kurt and rests a hand on his thigh as they continue to kiss.

He pulls away after a moment and leans his head against the back of the couch. Kurt does the same and they stare at each other with soft smiles, “I wanted to ask you to be my date to my sister’s wedding.” Blaine whispers into the space between them.

Kurt’s eyes light up, “I love weddings!” He says.

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s thigh, still under his hand, lightly, “So does that mean yes?” He asks.

Kurt nods, “I’d love to.”

Blaine smiles before chuckling, “I guess I should tell you when it is in case you have a prior engagement.”

Kurt scrunches his nose adorably, “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

Blaine can’t resist leaning in to kiss Kurt’s lips at the expression and they kiss for another few moments before Blaine pulls away once more, “December 2nd.” He says.

“I’m there.” Kurt replies before lightly fisting his hand in Blaine’s shirt and pulling him forward.

-- -- --

Unlike Blaine, Alex had always assumed a plus one was just a given for him. He was sure he could find someone to go with to the wedding, and whether he went home with that someone, or someone from the wedding, well...he would just be keeping his options open. That, however, was before Kurt.

Kurt, who made Alex’s heart beat faster every time he thought of him. Kurt, who made Alex laugh and actually laughed at Alex’s jokes in return. Kurt, who was breathtakingly beautiful and enchanting in a way no other person had ever really been for Alex. Kurt, who made Alex understand what it meant to want monogamy for himself and not just as an idea that seemed to work for people like his parents and sister.

Kurt, who is biting his lip when Alex pulls open the door to his apartment and Alex wants to bite that lip himself. Until now there hasn’t been a lot of biting of any kind. Despite Alex’s usual MO, he and Kurt have done nothing more than share kisses, and Alex finds himself wanting more but being okay with waiting.

He must be growing up…

“Hey.” He smiles as he gestures for Kurt to come in.

“Hi.” Kurt whispers and Alex realizes that he’d been so focused on Kurt’s bit lip that he failed to notice how nervous Kurt is acting.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks as he sits on the couch and watches Kurt sit across from him and fidget with the end of his scarf that he hasn’t taken off.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks up at Alex with a sad smile and Alex’s stomach drops in preparation for what he can sense coming.

“You’re ending this, aren’t you?” Alex asks before Kurt can say anything.

Kurt bites his lip again and turns to look at the coffee table in front of Alex’s couch. Silence stretches between them but Alex doesn’t know how to fill it. He’s never been in this situation before, and the longer Kurt remains silent, the more real the moment becomes. He’s being broken up with. And even though they were not serious (hadn’t even talked about exclusivity at ALL) it hurts in a way he’s never really had to deal with before.

“I’m so sorry.” Kurt finally says on an exhale.

Alex presses his lips together and nods, more to himself than to Kurt.

“It’s just...you weren’t the only guy I’ve been seeing,” Alex’s heart hurts a little at this admission even though he had just moments before contemplated their lack of exclusivity, “and things with the other guy have become more serious for me and I needed to make a decision.”

Alex nods again. He’s doing a lot of nodding.

Kurt looks back over at him with a sad smile, “I really like you, but...it just didn’t feel fair to keep going with this,” He gestures back and forth between them, “when I couldn’t give it 100%.”

Alex lets out a breath and chuckles, which causes Kurt’s eyes to widen slightly, “It’s fine.” Alex says flippantly, even though he feels anything but flippant. He waves a hand nonchalantly in front of himself, “We weren’t exclusive. We never talked about it. I do appreciate you letting me know, though.”

He kind of wants Kurt to leave. He’s not devastated? But he’s hurting more than he wants to in front of the man currently breaking things off with him. He almost laughs again when he remembers he had intended to invite Kurt to Amelia’s wedding tonight. How dumb would he have felt had he done that before Kurt broke things off?

“I really do like you.” Kurt says again.

Alex smiles, “I like you, too.” He says softly before coughing awkwardly, “But hey, good luck with the other guy. He’s...very lucky.”

Having never been in this position before, Alex isn’t sure how to act. He’s not sure that’s the right thing to say and Kurt’s awkward smile leads him to believe it probably wasn’t exactly the right thing, but Kurt does nod and then gets up.

“Thanks.” He says.

Alex walks him to the door and holds it open for him to leave - the shortest ‘date’ of Alex’s life.

Kurt smiles with a wave before starting to walk down the hallway, “Oh!” Alex exclaims and Kurt turns around in surprise. Alex leans out his door slightly and smiles, “And if things don’t work out with your other guy...give me a call?”

Kurt’s eyes widen slightly, again, and his awkward smile returns before he nods and waves again before making his way down the hall and to the elevators.

Alex sighs when he’s out of sight and leans his head against the door. Clearly not the right thing to say. Getting broken up with sucks. He doesn’t recommend it. He needs a drink.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts his brothers.

-- -- --

“Al…” Blaine says, coming up behind his brother who is sitting at the bar in Black Iron Burger the next day.

Alex turns with a sad smile and Blaine pats him on the back with a sad smile of his own before pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, man.” Blaine sympathizes as he takes a seat next to Alex. He notices, briefly, that Henry hasn’t arrived yet before focusing back on Alex who shrugs and wraps a hand around the half drunk beer in front of him.

“Yeah, it sucks. I mean, it wasn’t like we were serious or exclusive, but I kinda thought it could get there.” Alex says before shrugging again and bringing his beer to his lips.

Blaine pouts his lips. He can tell that this guy was different for Alex. His brother has never called him to mourn the loss of a partner (aside from the one time he’d slept with a D-list celebrity and claimed he’d been ‘in love’ after one night but that they would never see each other again. ‘It’s like Romeo and Juilet!’ he’d, overdramatically, lamented). Blaine is the brother that gets attached. Alex isn’t. So to see him slumped slightly in defeat makes Blaine’s heart clench.

“He didn’t deserve you.” He says, laying a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex smiles and chuckles lightly, “Yeah, maybe.” He says.

The conversation pauses so Blaine can order a drink and then the pair is quiet while they watch the football game playing over their heads. Blaine figures he’ll take his cue from Alex. He’s here for him after all.

Henry joins them a few minutes later looking more put together than he normally does for a get together with his brothers. Blaine notes, as he watches Alex and Henry hug, that while Henry is usually better dressed than Alex, he doesn’t put as much time into his look as Blaine does. Tonight, he looks polished and Blaine even notices cufflinks on the dress shirt he’s wearing. Even the fact that he’s wearing a dress shirt to meet with his brothers is slightly out of character for him.

Blaine shakes himself out of his thoughts as Henry turns to hug him and then orders a beer for himself.

“So what do you need from us tonight?” Henry says as he sits on Alex’s other side, “Do you want us to sit quietly and watch the game with you, demonize the horrible man who broke your heart, give you shoulders to cry on? Just let us know.”

Alex laughs softly and shakes his head, “I just wanted to see you guys and have a beer...or five. We can just chat.”

Henry nods as his beer is set in front of him. He lifts it slightly and tilts it toward the other two, “We can do that. Right, Blaine?”

Blaine nods and mirrors the gesture, “We can.”

The three clink their glasses together and each take a sip of their drinks before, simultaneously, replacing them on the bar top.

“Speaking of ‘chatting’,” Alex starts, “What’s got you dressed up so fancy? I know it can’t be me. My pain is not a formal occasion.”

Henry chuckles, nervously, as he adjusts his collar, “Uh, I actually have a date later.”

Blaine shoots Alex a nervous look at the admission, afraid of how his brother will react. But when Henry also shoots Alex a concerned look, the man in the middle chuckles, “Guys, I’m fine! I’m not going to break. We weren’t serious. I’m just slightly bummed and wanted to see you guys. I’m Alex. I don’t do ‘feelings’.”

Blaine knows he’s covering a little but trusts his brother to let them know how he’s feeling so he nods and turns back to Henry, “So, how are things going with your guy?”

He notices Henry blush slightly and smiles at the boyish way Henry shifts his eyes as he smiles, “Really well.” He admits and Alex whoops while Blaine smiles bigger, “I was actually thinking of inviting him to Tiny’s wedding. Do you think that would be...cool?”

“You should.” Blaine answers immediately, “No one will care he’s a guy, Henry.” He says, understanding why Henry is nervous, “They may be a bit surprised at first but they’ll just be happy for you.”

Henry nods and takes a deep breath, “You’re right.”

Alex lets out a breath, “So, Henry’s going to have a date to a family wedding. That hasn’t happened...ever.” He chuckles when Henry smacks him on the back of the head before continuing, “And we all know I’ll rally and invite some hot piece with me.” Henry and Blaine give the same ‘Of course’ hand gesture, “So, now we just have to find someone for baby brother.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at the moniker but then smiles, “I actually already have a date myself.”

Alex’s eyes widen and Henry lets out a low whistle, “The same guy you’ve been seeing?” Alex asks and Blaine nods with an even bigger smile, “Well, that’s great.” He says, offering his glass for another toast, “To each of us finding someone we want to hump.”

Henry and Blaine roll their eyes with their glasses held up but participate in the toast anyway.

“Oh! And to it being only two days until we take Tiny out!” Alex adds.

Blaine and Henry, more enthusiastically, cheers to that.

-- -- --

Henry feels his heart leap when he sees Kurt walking toward him. He had left Blaine and Alex at the bar a half hour ago after two hours of chatting and goofing around to meet Kurt for their date.

His teeth start to chatter and not because of the cold weather. He’s nervous. Alex was right. He’s never asked anyone to any of their family weddings. He hopes Kurt says yes!

Kurt’s face breaks into a smile when their eyes meet and Henry all but bounces on his toes when the other man gets closer.

“Hey!” He enthuses, swooping in to give Kurt a quick kiss on the cheek. The desire to do so is still so new for Henry. It both excites him and terrifies him a little. He hasn’t really gotten the hang of casual intimacy with Kurt. Any physical interaction is usually initiated by Kurt. But Henry’s trying. He wants to try.

“Hey you.” Kurt says with a sigh, a white cloud of air following his words due to the cold weather.

“You look great.” Henry smiles.

Kurt smiles back, “So do you. Shall we walk?” He asks, gesturing down the street.

Henry loves that their dates are simple. They’ve been to the coffee shop a few more times and spent an afternoon in Central Park by the pond. Today their plan is to wander around the city and see if anything strikes their fancy. It may be a bit cold to do so? But Henry loves how uncomplicated and safe it feels. A lot less stressful than bowling - Henry is still berating himself for suggesting that  to begin with.

The pair start their way down the street, walking close enough that their hands bump every once in a while but never really hold. Henry would like to hold Kurt’s hand, his fingers are flexing like a teenager on his first date, but he thinks he’ll wait and see if Kurt grabs first.

“How was drinks with your brothers?” Kurt asks.

Henry smiles, “It was nice. Alex just got his heart broken a little so we were cheering him up.”

Henry notices Kurt pauses at this, to the point where Henry walks a few steps ahead of him before he notices the lack of Kurt beside him. Henry turns back with a questioning eyebrow raised to find Kurt staring at him with slightly wide eyes. A second later, however, before Henry can ask, Kurt shakes his head with a chuckle and moves to walk next to the other man again.

“Sorry, I just thought...nevermind. It’s not important.” Kurt says with another shake of his head.

Henry nods in acceptance as they round a corner, “So, are you excited about your presentation on Monday?” It’s not what he wants to ask. He wants to ask Kurt to the wedding, but he figures he’ll work himself up to that.

Kurt sighs next to him and it sounds a little regretful to Henry. Which is strange considering the nature of his question. He’d thought Kurt would be excited about the presentation.

“Look, Henry, can we sit for a bit? I wanted to...talk to you about something.” Kurt says around a grimace and Henry doesn’t like the words or the expression but he nods and allows Kurt to lead him into a small, quiet coffee shop on the corner.

They each order a coffee, even though Henry suddenly has a lump in his throat and doesn’t think he’ll be able to drink it, and he shifts continually as Kurt unwinds his scarfs from his neck.

“What’s up?” Henry asks when he can’t take the quiet any longer. Trying for nonchalance and probably failing epically. 

Kurt swallows and rests his hands first on the wooden table top, then in his lap, and then finally decides to reach forward and grab Henry’s hands across the table. Henry looks down at their hands and while he realizes this is what he wanted to happen not even ten minutes ago, the current mood isn’t what he had expected or wanted.

“I don’t really know how to tell you this.” Kurt begins and Henry blinks at him, waiting for what he knows is coming but hoping that’s not the case, “I...need to end things.” And there it is. Henry feels his stomach sink to his feet and his instant reaction is to pull his hands from Kurt’s. Kurt won’t let him go though and Henry doesn’t try too hard, “It’s nothing you did. You are amazing.” Kurt continues and Henry goes back to blinking at him, his mind already whirling as he tries to focus on what Kurt is saying.

“What happened?” He asks around dry lips.

Kurt gives him a sad smile and Henry wants to say it’s pitying and hate Kurt for it but...he can’t, “I haven’t just been seeing you and things with the other guy have gotten more serious. I didn’t think it would be fair to either of you to pretend that wasn’t the case.”

Henry intellectually knows that at twenty-six, people date multiple people until things become exclusive but...Henry doesn’t really date. He was exclusive with Kurt from the beginning. It hurts, however irrationally, that Kurt didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m so sorry, Henry.” Kurt continues, squeezing his hand.

Henry shakes himself out of his own head and looks at Kurt, who is continuing to smile sadly at him.

“Would you like me to go?” Kurt asks.

Henry swallows. Does he? He thinks he does. He nods before he can think too hard and Kurt squeezes his hand one more time before pulling away and grabbing his scarf.

He stands to wind it around his neck and then reaches into his pocket to put money down on the table for his undrank (and actually still undelivered) coffee.

“You really are amazing, Henry.” Kurt whispers.

Henry nods, tries to smile, and then Kurt is gone.

Henry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He tries to tell himself that people break things off all the time. Hell, he’d just come from an Alex cheer up session for the exact same reason. He tries to tell himself that he and Kurt weren’t serious, regardless of Henry’s personal feelings on exclusivity.

He’ll be fine. It’s not like the very first guy to ever catch Henry’s attention, to make him question everything he thought about himself, just ended things right when Henry was thinking of taking things to the next level.

Henry lets out another heavy breath. Fuck.

-- -- --

“Okay, while I love that you guys took me out? I have to say this is kind of depressing.” Amelia says, carefully, two days later.

She’s seated on the arm of a couch in the VIP section of a swanky club, dressed to the nines in a purple sequined dressed and hair and makeup on point, and while she’s valiantly trying to maintain a buzz...she feels its a bit of a travesty that she has to TRY so hard. She should be drunk out of her MIND right now or at least on her way to it.

She’s not sure if the club is all the night holds, but the way things are going she’s not sure she wants to find out what else there might be.

The only other person actually trying to have fun is Blaine. He’s also dressed to the nines, his bowtie the perfect accessory and has been tweaked by admiring girls AND guys all night. The constant blush on his cheeks at the action is both adorable and endearing. Blaine is currently off buying them more drinks, however, leaving Amelia with Alex and Henry.

It’s the other two members of their party that are being giant party poopers. Alex and Henry are at least dressed nicely for the event but considering this is pretty much all Alex has talked about for months...their mood is definitely off.

“Sorry Tiny.” Henry sighs from where he sits on the couch next to where she is perched.

Amelia sighs, “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy!” She says, “Is whatever has the two of you down something you can maybe put aside for the night? Or is it something we can talk about, quickly, so we can move on? Because I’m pretty sure this night is costing you all a lot of money and...it’s my last night out with my boys before my wedding.” She doesn’t want to pout but...she’s the baby, and the only girl, and is used to using her pout to get what she wants.

Alex sighs, “I was ready to have a great night but then Henry had to go and get dumped, too, and...it reminded me how much that sucked.”

Henry lifts his hands, exasperatedly, as if to say it wasn’t his fault he got dumped a day after Alex did, “It’s not my fault I got dumped a day after you did!” He huffs and Amelia almost, almost giggles at her ability to read her big brothers.

Instead of giggling though, she sighs, “Look, guys, getting dumped sucks but get drunk and get on someone else! It’s not like you’d been dating these people for a year or more. You didn’t even tell your family you were dating them!”

Henry and Alex both stare at her after her exclamation and she would feel bad if she didn’t feel she was right. Henry’s mood makes the most sense. He doesn’t date and any seeming failure would be a blow to his dating confidence. 

She’s most confused by Alex. Alex goes through men and women like they’re underwear sometimes. She’s confused why he would be so hung up on a guy he clearly didn’t feel serious enough about to introduce to his family.

“We’re sorry, Tiny.” Henry says.

Alex nods, “Yeah. We’ll try harder. This is your night.”

Amelia nods, glad to have them thinking the way she does, as Blaine comes back to the group.

“I’m pretty sure I counted four different people winking at me and/or touching my butt on the way to and from the bar.” Blaine says, setting their drinks down on the table in front of the couch.

Alex laughs as he reaches for his drink, cheersing slightly in thanks, “Well, you are looking very dapper this evening. But better watch it - your man might get jealous.”

Blaine chuckles, himself, as he takes a seat in a chair perpendicular to the couch the other three are sitting on, “Yeah, maybe I should have brought Kurt as protection.”

Amelia is looking at Blaine but becomes aware very quickly of how still the couch to her right has gotten. She turns to find Alex and Henry looking at Blaine but not in the casual way one might when another person is talking. They’re staring at him like he’s just said the most shocking thing they’ve ever heard.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Alex asks.

Blaine seems to catch on to their sudden mood and furrows his eyebrows and shifts as he answers, “That I should have gotten Kurt to come for protection. It was just a joke.”

“Kurt.” Henry says, flatly.

“Yeah. My….boyfriend?” Blaine says the last part questioningly. Amelia isn’t sure if it’s because he’s still confused by their brothers’ reactions, or because he’s not sure if the title is accurate for his relationship.

Either way, the clarification doesn’t seem to help Alex and Henry who continue to look at Blaine like he’s just stolen the last cookie (a criminal offense punishable by beatings from each other when they were kids).

Blaine chuckles nervously under the scrutiny, “What’s going on?”

Henry and Alex look at each other and then back at Blaine, and then back at each other. Amelia’s head is starting to hurt from confusion, but it looks like she’s not the only one who’s confused.

“What’s Kurt’s last name?” Henry asks.

“Hummel.” Blaine provides and again the space is silent which is hard to do considering the music pumping not far away.

“Oh god.” Henry moans, putting his head into his hands. Alex sits, frozen, staring at Blaine. Blaine, for his part, is looking back and forth between his brothers, and Amelia, with a look of distress on his face, unaware of the issue.

And then suddenly, Amelia gets it.

“Were you all dating the same guy?!” She exclaims.

Blaine’s head whips in her direction as Henry moans again.

“No, no, no.” Blaine says with a nervous chuckle as he looks at his brothers to agree.

Instead of confirmation however, Henry is still face planting into his hands and Alex looks murderous.

“No?” Blaine, feebly, tries again.

“I lost my chance to be with Kurt because of YOU?!” Alex yells and Blaine jumps back in his chair slightly at the loud exclamation.

Amelia gets up and puts her hands up in a calming gesture, “Now, just wait a minute. Let’s just...talk about this.”

“Did you know?” Alex accuses as he stares at Blaine.

“Of course not!” Blaine exclaims.

Alex scoffs like he doesn’t really believe his brother and fidgets on the couch. Henry hasn’t moved.

“I cannot believe this.” Alex huffs. He looks around the room before shaking his head and huffing again, “You know what? I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry, Tiny, but...I gotta go.”

Before Amelia can say anything, Alex is up out of his seat and out of the room. Blaine and Amelia watch him go, both looking distressed and confused.

“Henry?” Blaine asks after a moment, small and sounding very much like the ‘little brother’ Alex and Henry like to say he is.

Henry shakes his head before looking up, “I gotta...I’m sorry but I gotta...think about this.” He says and then he’s gone the same way Alex left.

Blaine and Amelia once again watch him leave and then turn and look at each other. Blaine looks close to tears and Amelia feels a tightness in her chest. She’s not sure how to fix what just happened, or even fully understand why it happened. She just knows that a night meant to celebrate very quickly turned into the very opposite of that, and she now has three brothers hurting.

She does the only thing she can think to do at the moment and moves to squish herself next to Blaine, pulling him to her and cuddling him close as they listen to the distant thump of music from the club on the other side of the wall.

-- -- --

Blaine feels like shit. It’s been three days since the disaster that was Amelia’s party and neither of his brothers are answering his calls. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t talk to his brothers for longer than a day, their almost constant back and forth something he took for granted until it suddenly wasn’t there.

He’s tried to text both of them multiple times but has not received a response from either. 

He misses his brothers, but he’s also a little mad because he’s not sure their silent treatment/absence is justified. It’s not Blaine’s fault he met a guy. It’s not Blaine’s fault he and said guy grew close. And it’s not his fault that guy just so happened to also be dating his other two triplet brothers and decided to break it off with them.

None of this is his fault...but then why does he feel so guilty for seeking comfort in Kurt?

“I don’t know what to do.” He sighs, resting his chin on his folded arms which are resting on top of his kitchen island where he is sitting.

Kurt sighs from his spot next to him and leans over to kiss his shoulder before leaning his cheek on the same shoulder and smoothing a hand up Blaine’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“I don’t know what to say or do to make any of this better with them.” Blaine continues.

Kurt hums and Blaine appreciates that while Kurt may not know what to say, he’ll listen.

When Blaine had first told Kurt that he had been inadvertently dating Blaine’s triplet brothers, Kurt had thought he was joking. No way did the universe work that way. But after Blaine showed Kurt a picture of himself with Alex and Henry, Kurt had been dumbfounded. He’d sputtered some words that didn’t make a lot of sense and looked like his mind was reeling with a million different emotions and thoughts all at once. In the end, he seemed to finally land on pity and sympathy for Blaine, and while Blaine doesn’t usually like to be pitied...in this situation, he’ll take all the pity and cuddles he can get.

The pair is quiet for a few moments, both in their own heads, before Kurt lets out a breath, “I still can’t believe I was dating three brothers.” Evidently Kurt’s not completely done being dumbfounded, “No, wait.” He says, straightening up, “Triplets. Triplet brothers. Close triplet brothers. Triplet brothers who are close.” He moves away from Blaine to circle to the other side of the island and Blaine immediately misses his closeness.

Kurt paces from one end of the island to the other and brings a hand to his forehead, “And I’ve now hurt all three of them.” He seems to be talking more to himself than to Blaine, “All three are hurting because of me. How did I get myself into this mess?”

Blaine watches him pace for another moment before sighing. His sigh seems to snap Kurt out of his own head and he leans across the island to rest his hands on Blaine’s folded arms, “Oh my God, I’m sorry. You don’t need me having a mental freak out. This is about you.”

Blaine sighs again, “You’re allowed to be confused too, Kurt. I don’t think there is a rule book on how to handle this situation.”

Kurt pouts his lips, “Yeah, but I’m not the one who isn’t talking to his brothers. I’m the one who caused it all.”

Blaine unwinds his arms and grabs Kurt’s hands properly, “It’s not like you planned this. It’s not like you went out in search of triplet brothers, who look nothing alike I might add, to mess with. You dated, you got close to someone, and did the right thing by breaking it off with the others you didn’t feel as close to.”

Kurt nods and squeezes Blaine’s hands, “I think some of that advice could be turned around and given to you.”

Blaine bites his lips together and nods. He can’t be blamed for getting close to someone. He can’t be blamed for not knowing his brothers just so happened to be dating that same someone.

“Should I feel guilty for being happy about how it turned out?” He asks.

Kurt sighs and shrugs slightly, “Only if I should, too.”

Blaine shakes his head. This whole situation was out of their control and he can’t deny how happy he is to be with Kurt. He’ll figure out a way to make things right with his brothers. Everything will turn out okay.

“I like you a lot.” Blaine says, apropos of nothing.

Kurt smiles at him from across the island before circling it again and coming to hug Blaine. Blaine settles his knees on either side of the taller man and leans his head against Kurt’s chest as he wraps his arms around his waist.

“I like you a lot, too.” Kurt whispers into Blaine’s hair.

Blaine enjoys the hug for a minute before pulling back and looking up at Kurt, “Should you still come to the wedding?”

Kurt bites his bottom lip and tilts his head, “Do you want me to still come to the wedding?”

Blaine squeezes the arms still around Kurt’s waist slightly, “Of course I do, but that’s not really the point right now. Would it just cause more issues?”

Kurt shifts his arms so his hands are resting on Blaine’s shoulders and he looks him in the eye, “I would love to come to the wedding with you. I would love to meet your family or, you know, the rest of your family?” He scrunches one eye shut and the question actually makes them both laugh softly before Kurt settles into a soft smile, “But I do not want to do anything else that will cause you, or your brothers, any more hurt.” Blaine starts to speak but Kurt shushes him lightly, “Yes, I know the first hurts were inadvertent, but they still happened.” Blaine sighs and nods, “I will go along with whatever you want. If you want me at the wedding, I’m there. If you’d rather me stay at home, I can do that too. But your decision will not change how I feel about you.”

Blaine stares up into Kurt’s eyes and his feelings for him deepen even further at Kurt’s words. Beyond the external drama, Blaine is a little shocked at how quickly his feelings for Kurt have developed over the course of their short relationship. He’s feeling things he thinks he probably shouldn’t yet, and while he’s not ready to announce them to Kurt...they’re enough to make his decision an easy one.

“I want you there.” He whispers into the space between them, looking back and forth between Kurt’s eyes because they are that close.

Kurt smiles and leans in to press a slow kiss to Blaine’s lips. Blaine sighs and leans into it, pressing his hands more firmly into Kurt’s back to draw the other man closer still.

The kiss is deep from the start and the only sound in the room is their breathing and the wet sound of their lips and tongues coming together. There is something deeply intimate about their position to Blaine and he can feel himself responding and his heart rate pick up.

Kurt’s hands settle on either side of Blaine’s neck and he tilts Blaine’s head ever so slightly and, oh, that angle is so much better.

They make out for another minute or two before Blaine pulls back sharply, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

“Did you…” He pauses, unsure he wants to ask the question. Kurt, who is slightly out of breath with his cheeks flushed standing between Blaine’s legs, looks at him in confusion. Blaine decides he needs to know, “Did you...sleep with either of my brothers?”

He knows he’s broken the mood they were just in, especially when Kurt’s confusion turns to laughter, but he knows he couldn’t continue until he knew.

Kurt leans his forehead against Blaine’s shoulder and laughs heartily into it. Blaine soon joins him and the pair laugh in each other’s arms.

Kurt lets out a breath and hums to calm himself before pulling back and shaking his head, “No. No, I did not.”

Blaine brings a hand up to his forehead and wipes it dramatically, “Phew. I just had this mental image of you comparing our dicks and just...no.” He says and it causes them both to chuckle. Blaine scrunches one eye shut and looks up at Kurt, “Sorry for...ruining the mood.”

Kurt hums again, looks up at the ceiling as if considering, and then shrugs, “It’s okay. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea to sleep together right now. Maybe we should...wait.”

Blaine intellectually knows Kurt is right, but it’s hard to tell his body and heart that.

“We’ll have time.” Kurt whispers, leaning to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips.

Blaine closes his eyes and groans softly as Kurt pulls away, “We will.” He agrees.

-- -- --

“Hey. Hey Blaine.” Alex slurs a day later into his phone. He’s wobbling outside of a bar in the West Village and he thought calling Blaine would be the BEST thing to do at this particular moment, “Hey Blaine. Oh wait, I already said that. But hi. I’m mad at you. I think. Shouldn’t I be?” He scrunches up his nose and makes eye contact with another man on the sidewalk who looks at him with a quirked eyebrow and keeps going, “Yeah, I think I’m mad. You stole Kurt. You stole Kurt and his..and his penis!” He exclaims. Two young girls, in the process of passing Alex on the street, jump at the volume and then giggle as they speed walk away, “I had plans for that penis. Big plans because well...I’m sure it would have been big if you know what I mean.

“But you took him and I’m mad.” Alex sighs and then sits on the sidewalk, “And a little sad. I’m...I’m...I’m smad.” He pouts his bottom lip out and adopts a glare before giggling at his attempt to look sad and mad at the same time, “I don’t want to be smad. But I really wanted that penis. And the man it was attached to. But now you have the penis. And I just...I’m smad.”

-- -- --

Kurt’s not entirely sure why he’s here. Technically, he understands the logistics of being here, Blaine’s little sister’s rehearsal dinner, but he isn’t entirely sure he made the right decision agreeing to come.

Blaine had asked him to come. Or rather, Blaine’s sister, Amelia, had asked Blaine to ask him to come. Her thinking was that her family could meet Kurt in a less formal setting first, as opposed to having their first meeting be at her wedding (Blaine had said her exact words were ‘If you cause unnecessary drama at my wedding, I will burn all your bow ties’).

So here Kurt stands, in an admittedly fabulous outfit, next to Blaine outside the restaurant the rehearsal dinner is being held at. They are both fidgeting and side-eyeing each other. 

The next time they catch each other's eyes, they both chuckle at the same time.

“Thank you for coming.” Blaine says.

Kurt shrugs, “From the sounds of things I didn’t REALLY have a choice. I haven’t even met Amelia yet and she seems like a force to be reckoned with.”

Blaine nods, “She can be.” He says on a sigh before looking back at the restaurant, “Ready?”

Kurt’s not sure he is, but he nods anyway, and the pair make their way toward the front door.

The hostess leads them to the private room the rehearsal dinner is being held in and Kurt is instantly hit with the sheer amount of people inside the relatively small room. Kurt’s not an introvert, by any means, but faced with a room of people he doesn’t know...including the family of his new boyfriend...he finds himself swallowing, thickly.

And then he remembers that everyone in this room isn’t a stranger and his eyes widen when the first people he lays eyes on are Henry and Alex. They’re hard to miss, right inside the door and talking to a short woman who, based on her physical features, can’t be anyone but their sister, Amelia.

The opening of the door draws their attention and the five of them (Alex, Henry, Amelia, Blaine, and Kurt) freeze. Kurt had kind of hoped to avoid any awkward interactions, but clearly luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“Hey!” Amelia says after a moment, breaking the silence and moving towards the pair, “You must be Kurt!” She’s hugging him before Kurt can even take his eyes off of Alex and Henry, and he hugs her back while still looking at them. Henry looks nervous and Alex’s eyes have narrowed slightly. Kurt coughs and looks away and down at the spitfire of a woman still hugging him

“Yeah. Hi. You must be Amelia. Nice to meet you and congratulations.” He says with a nervous blush rising on his cheeks.

Amelia steps back and hugs Blaine to her, who looks faintly ill as he looks beyond at his brothers.

“Thanks!” She enthuses, “Though I’m kind of glad the wedding is tomorrow. Whoever said planning a wedding was fun obviously hasn’t planned one before.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs, and while Kurt has been planning his wedding since he was six and can’t wait to put the plan into action, he laughs with her because he doesn’t want to be rude.

And then suddenly it’s like Amelia either can’t ignore the tension between the four men in the room, or she just realizes it, and looks between all four of them with a look of apprehension. When no one else speaks or even looks at one another, she sighs and puts her hands on her hips.

“This is ridiculous. Hug. Each. Other!” She orders with a glare at each of her brothers.

Blaine, Alex, and Henry all seem to collectively pout, but none move to follow the order of their little sister. Kurt’s pretty sure the order didn’t extend to him but...it’s so awkward he’s actually considering just going for it and hugging someone.

Amelia rolls her eyes before grabbing Blaine’s elbow, “All right. We are going to talk this out like the adults we all pretend to be. That way you can go back to normal and not ruin my wedding.”

She gestures for Alex and Henry to follow her and it appears this order they will follow. Kurt is simultaneously glad to no longer have to deal with this awkwardness, but also a little terrified that Blaine is about to leave him in a room full of strangers.

The siblings are almost out of the room when Amelia stops and turns back to Kurt with a raised eyebrow, “Are you coming?”

Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise and terror. His presence is required?

Amelia gives him a pointed stare before leading her brothers from the room. Kurt hesitates, momentarily, before deciding staying with Blaine is probably the best course of action (and not angering Amelia any further) and following them out to a quiet section of the restaurant.

For the second time this evening, Kurt wonders how he ended up here.

“All right.” Amelia starts as she looks at her brothers in front of her. The four men are standing in a loose square, with Kurt awkwardly standing to Blaine’s right, “You all need to get over this. I should not be feeling anxious over YOUR love lives and especially not the day before the most important day of MY life.”

Alex crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, “This is all Blaine’s fault.”

Amelia throws her hands up in the air in exasperation but it’s Blaine who answers, “Are you seven?” He asks, incredulously, and the question just makes Alex’s arms cross tighter, “Because that’s how you’re acting. This is like the time mom and dad bought us scooters for our birthday and you got pissed that I got the red one because you wanted the red one.”

Kurt furrows his brow, “Are you likening me to a scooter?”

His question goes unanswered as Alex huffs indignantly, “I really liked him!” He defends.

Blaine rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I got that much from the message you sent me. You know, at first I felt sort of bad for what happened, that maybe it WAS my fault. But it’s not really. I just met a guy and fell in…” He hesitates and Kurt turns to him wide eyed. Blaine swallows thickly and doesn’t meet Kurt’s eye before continuing, “I really didn’t need you talking about how much you want my boyfriend’s dick. Now I’M mad.”

Kurt’s wide eyes widen further before moving to look at the ground. He feels his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed flush. He’s not really shy when it comes to sex related topics like he was in high school, but something about this situation just makes it all the more strange.

The space they’re in goes quiet and Kurt isn’t sure if anyone is going to break the silence. He doesn’t really want the last thing said in this trainwreck of a conversation to be about his penis.

He coughs and all heads swivel toward him. He blinks at each face before landing on Blaine’s and biting his lip, “I...think I’m going to go.” He says, and it’s not until it’s out of his mouth that he realizes he had wanted to say those words.

Blaine’s eyes widen and he steps closer, grabbing Kurt’s hand, “Please don’t.” He whispers.

Kurt looks quickly at the other faces in the space before focussing back on Blaine. He really doesn’t want to say this with Blaine’s brothers and sister in the room, but again his mouth acts before his brain can catch up, “I don’t want to come between you and your family.” He whispers, pleading with his eyes for Blaine to understand.

Blaine shakes his head, “You aren’t.”

Kurt smiles sadly, “I am. I just...can’t be the reason why three brothers are fighting.” He looks around the room again, the other three faces looking on curiously, before turning back to Blaine who looks pained, “I’m sorry.” He whispers and then pulls his hand out of Blaine’s, “I’m...sorry.” He says a little louder to Alex, Henry, and Amelia, before he turns and walks out of the restaurant.

The fact that his heart hurts when he hits the parking lot doesn’t go unnoticed.

-- -- --

Amelia’s wedding is a beautiful, elegant affair the next day. The flowers arrive on time, no one trips down the aisle, Amelia and Sam both tear up during their vows, and if anyone notices the slightly subdued nature of the three men of honour...they don’t comment.

Blaine thinks he and his brothers do a pretty good job at keeping it together during the ceremony and pictures. They act like nothing's wrong and even their parents don’t seem to pick up on the fact that there is a giant elephant in the room.

During the reception, the three of them deliver their joint speech flawlessly (complete with jokes, heartfelt memories, and perfectly timed segways) and Blaine gives a sigh of relief when Amelia beams at them from her seat beside her new husband.

It’s not until the dancing begins that Blaine really lets his mask drop. He finds a seat at an empty table and nurses a glass of wine. He rests his forearms on his legs and lets the glass dangle between his knees.

Kurt was supposed to be here. Blaine was supposed to be introducing his new boyfriend to his family, cuddling up on the dance floor during sappy wedding slow songs, and maybe getting a little drunk and handsy. Instead, he’s spent the day pretending he isn’t hurting.

He sighs as the song changes (it’s a pretty damn good playlist if he says so himself) before he sees black out of the corner of his eye. He closes his eyes, ready to put on a brave face for whatever family member has decided to descend upon him, only to look up to find Henry standing in front of him.

“May I?” His brother asks, gesturing to the seat next to Blaine. Blaine nods and straightens slightly, something in the back of his mind finding it wrong that Henry feels he needs to ask permission to sit next to his brother.

Henry sits next to him with a sigh and looks out over the dance floor. Blaine realizes in that moment that Henry has been pretty quiet since they found out about their shared dating experience. He hasn’t said much on the issue or expressed his feelings in any way. Blaine really hopes he’s not about to get into a shouting match at their sister’s wedding.

“I freaked out.” Henry says. Blaine turns to look at him but Henry is still looking out at the dance floor, “Kurt was the first guy to ever make me feel something like that, and then suddenly he was calling things off to be with you, and I had this giant crisis. Had everything I felt been a lie? An experiment? For nothing?” He shakes his head before sighing again and looking at Blaine, “But my feelings have nothing to do with you and Kurt. None of this is your fault, Blaine. And I’m sorry if I made you think it was.”

Blaine sucks in a deep breath through his nose and holds it for a second before letting it out. He had been expecting tension, not an apology. He also can’t believe he didn’t think to check in on his brother. Of course he’d be analyzing what it all meant.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask how you were feeling about all of...that.” Blaine says.

Henry shrugs before smiling, “It’s okay. It’s not like me overthinking and freaking out is a NEW experience.”

Blaine chuckles softly, “Still. I should have asked. Are you...okay with everything?”

Henry nods looking out over the dance floor again, “I think I am. Or at least...I’m getting there. Maybe Kurt will be the only guy to do anything for me and maybe not. I’m willing to keep my options open.”

Blaine smiles and nods, “Good.” He says.

“I’m growing as a person.” Henry says, dryly, and they chuckle lightly. Henry turns back to Blaine and lays a hand on Blaine’s knee, “How about you? Have you heard from Kurt?”

The question makes Blaine’s chest hurt a little before he shakes his head, “Not since he left yesterday.”

Henry nods, “He’ll come around.” He says, encouragingly.

Blaine bites his lip to keep from either rambling or crying. He doesn’t want to do either. He’s not even sure how he truly feels or what he would even say...though he guesses when you ramble it’s less important what it is you actually say.

He ends up just shrugging and the pair go back to watching the happy people on the dance floor.

“Amelia is beautiful today.” Blaine muses.

“She really is.” 

Blaine jumps slightly because it’s not Henry who responds. Both men turn in the seats to see Alex standing behind them. He’s got his hands in his pockets and his head tipped down, looking at them through his lashes.

“Hey, can I...talk to you?” He asks Blaine.

Blaine looks at Henry, who shrugs, before Blaine nods and gets up. He passes his glass to Henry and then follows Alex out of the ballroom into the main lobby. He’s not sure if he and Alex are about to fight again, and he’s not entirely sure if he WANTS to fight again, but all speculation flies from his brain when he sees Kurt standing by chairs in the lobby.

Blaine stops walking and stares open mouthed. He looks back and forth between Alex, who has also stopped halfway between Kurt and Blaine, and Kurt who is standing with his hands in his pockets and biting his lip.

“What…?” Blaine starts.

Alex sighs, “I called Kurt. Explained to him that I’m kind of an ass sometimes. But hey, it’s part of my charm.” He says with a wide, cheeky smile, before sobering again, “None of this was either of your faults. None of this was any of our faults. But what is MY fault was how I reacted to it.” He turns more fully to Blaine, “I’m sorry. I’m no longer mad, I’m no longer sad, and none of that should have been directed at you.”

Blaine nods with a slow smile. He doesn’t really know what else to do right now other than to hug his brother. He’s opened his arms and begun to move toward him when Alex puts his hand up to stop him.

“Just wait, I’m not done. We can hug it out in a minute.” He says.

Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion but he does stop and watches as Alex turns toward Kurt, “I wanted to say sorry to you too, Kurt. I should never have treated you that way...even over a voicemail to my brother.”

Kurt’s eyes are wide as if he wasn’t expecting an apology before he nods.

Alex nods too and then turns to Blaine, “All right. You can hug me now.” He says, opening his own arms.

Blaine chuckles before closing the distance and wrapping his arms around his brother, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

Alex pulls back, “You have nothing to apologize for. You met a boy and you fell in…” He pauses with a knowing smirk and Blaine blushes and diverts his eyes for a second, “I was the only one who had to apologize. And I did.” He smiles, “I must be growing as a person.”

Blaine smiles at the statement Henry said to him minutes before, though as opposed to sarcastic, Alex seems proud.

“You are.” Blaine agrees.

Alex tilts his head in Kurt’s direction, “Go get your man. I’m going to go see if Sam’s friend Mike is single and open to the attention of men.” He waggles his eyebrows and Blaine laughs. Still the same old Alex.

Alex pats Blaine on the arm and then he’s gone, back into the ballroom. When the door closes behind him, Kurt and Blaine are left in silence.

Blaine walks slowly toward him, “Hi.” He whispers when he’s close.

Kurt bites his lip again and smiles, “Hi.”

“So...” Blaine looks around as if he’s searching for something, “You...aren’t coming between me and my brothers anymore. Not that you actually were, but now you DEFINITELY aren’t.”

“It would appear that I’m not.” Kurt agrees with a nod.

“So…” Blaine says again, “does that mean anything for...us?”

Kurt shrugs and looks around the lobby for a moment. Blaine’s stomach drops at the shrug, but when Kurt turns to him with a smirk, Blaine’s stomach fills with hopeful butterflies.

“Come here.” Kurt says, grabbing Blaine by the tie and pulling him forward into a kiss.

Blaine melts into it and he’ll blame the stress and uncertainty on the needy moan he lets out.

They’re just getting into a groove, and Blaine may or may not be thinking about a place in this building they could go to truly be alone, when a ‘whoop’ sounds from behind them.

They both jump and pull apart, looking at each other with wide eyes before turning simultaneously toward the ballroom to find Henry, Alex, and Amelia leaning out of the door with wide smiles on their faces.

“Yay Blainers!” Amelia claps and Blaine and Kurt chuckle at her enthusiasm. 

Henry puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder, perhaps in an effort to calm her, and Blaine feels his heart fill with happiness as his three siblings beam at him from the doorway.

Henry pulls slightly on Amelia’s shoulder and the pair turn to go back into the ballroom. Alex remains in the doorway, and while he looks to where his sister and brother just disappeared, he turns back to Blaine and he once again waggles his eyebrows with a wink. A moment later, Henry returns and pulls Alex back to the ballroom. 

Blaine can hear Alex complaining about missing the good part before he turns back to a smiling Kurt with a smile of his own. He takes a deep breath and reaches out to grab Kurt’s hand, “Do you...want to come meet the rest of my family?”

Kurt squeezes his hand and jiggles it lightly, “I would love to.”

Blaine didn’t think his smile could get any bigger, and yet he feels his cheek muscles stretch even further, before he tugs on Kurt’s hand and leads him to the ballroom.

The End

[lenabloo]

Alright so this is copypasted from my twitter which is why *gestures* the formatting is like it is. also I have no idea how to do a read more on here? I was aces at it on Livejournal, maybe I can figure it out....

Oh! I got it, ok. so anyways this is just a post about how I really struggle with online communication

CW - I’m gonna talk about feeling like I can’t talk? Which I don’t really know how to tag for people, because it’s maybe partially a social anxiety thing and also a rejection sensitive dysphoria thing and probably part depression, so, that’s this thread. I guess.

So, I really struggle with talking to people. People who I don’t know, in person, are kind of exhausting, because of all the facial expressions and social cues and I don’t get why we’re talking about some of what we’re talking about but it’s manageable, I’ve learned how to do it. I struggle with self advocating even for things like getting my hair done, never mind talking to doctors, although I have been pretty lucky as an adult with my psychiatrist and therapist- I’ve accepted that they know my symptoms and not talking won’t help me. Talking with friends and my immediate family is easy and fine, mostly! If we’re in person. The minute that things move to online or over the phone things get very different unless I’ve known a person for years in person.

I don’t know why, but it is very, very hard for me to talk online. I’ve got theories, of course- this has been a thing since I was a teenager, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure it out, but it’s still here! This block that I can’t get rid of--although I can get around it a little now. It’s this feeling like...like I have no place talking about my life. It feels unnatural to share information about my life and my feelings-probably a little remnant of the ‘strangerdanger’ approach to teaching kids about the internet when I was a kid.

But it’s like, if I talk about my life in any situation where I’m not like, in the midst of very desperate depression/misery, then I’m bad. My brain is convinced that not only would no one care, they would be annoyed by it and hate me for it. There have been enough interactions that have provided my brain with external “proof” of this that even though logically I know I can’t control how other people read me and even though I’ve never felt this way about other people (friends or strangers) talking about their lives--the feeling is persistent.

I feel like I ruin everything when I try to talk to people online. I rely on so many auditory and visual cues to understand other people, even with my processing issues, that when they’re cut away, my brain uses its own feelings about ‘us’ and the way ‘we’ are to come up with an interpretation, usually negative unless the interaction is blatantly positive.

Even though, as stated, I’m aware of the reality, these feelings are so strong and so unpleasant that I just. Don’t talk. I justify it with being more of a listener in IRL situations, but it doesn’t feel like enough to like my online/long distance friends’ posts -and even responding with something like “I hear you” feels simultaneously intrusive, and like it’s not enough, AND like I’m just looking for attention. There’s no winning against the illogical nature of this feeling.

I’ve tried to address this in therapy before, but I always --struggle to articulate it beyond ‘reaching out is hard and so I never do it’. I suppose I can read this thread to my therapist at our next session- she’s been really good about letting me read things that I’ve written before hand, which is often easier and more accurate anyways. Honestly, talking about all of this is really hard - it’s doing the thing to my throat and ear canal that trying not to cry does, even though I don’t feel particularly upset at the moment. Hormonal, yes, stressed and kind of sad, yes, but this isn’t one of those moments--where I’ve needed to be deeply distressed to break though the lock that my brain has on talking.

To be honest, I’m not sure that twitter is really the right ‘medium’ for this - actually, I’m not sure that anywhere has felt right since we all left LiveJournal. On LJ it was a lot easier to do the “talking” thing, even if a lot of the same restrictions still applied, because I never really expected to get a response. I had some friends on LJ, including a few IRL friends, but... I don’t know, I guess knowing that those were the only --people who would likely see it made it easier? I’m not sure.

I might copy this over to tumblr, since technically that’s the better place for this sort of thing, although I made it harder for myself to access tumblr (on purpose) - which I guess is how this ends up being the place-where this gets posted. *shrug*. Anyways. I might delete the twitter app, because although the ADHD content has been excellent lately, most everything else is stressing me out here. So I’ll just be even more inactive that before! *grin* anyways. That’s all.

[notyourmotherscopingmechanisms]

Water Bottles, Getting Rid of Stuff, and Social Media Goodbyes.

Hi, all.

This is it! Welcome to the first post on this experimental foray into talking about my brain, intentionally, and with a purpose in mind.

The post that led you here (from facebook, instagram, or twitter, if I got my shit together) mentioned that this post would be about the first few things I’ve done since the New Year to try and wrangle my life back into some sense of order, so I’m just gonna jump right into that. 

1) I bought a planner.

A real, actual physical paper, honest-to-god planner. 

This in and of itself is not much of a shock. I’ve bought a lot of planners in my lifetime, always excited to finally be one of those women—capable, powerful, every moment of their day accounted for in perfect handwriting—and reader, I am absolutely garbage at using them. 

So I bought another one. Makes sense, right?

I’ll tell you why: I think I finally figured out why I’m bad at using them. 

Every planner I’ve bought in the past has been one or both of these things: a month/week/day view, or an electronic planner (for my iPad.) These...did not work. The use cycle would usually go something like this: Overjoyed with my new beautiful book, I would spend an hour or two dutifully filling out the “month” views with absolutely everything I knew about at the time, and then I’d manage to use it for about a week before I realized I’d been forgetting to write in the “week” portion of the planner. This immediately triggers the guilt—I failed, I wasted part of such a nice book, what was the point, why did I even start....you get the idea. Of course, this is all ridiculous. The book never changed...but now it makes me sad to look at, and angry at myself every time I remember it. I can’t stand to use it anymore, because every time I pick it up, it’s a reminder that, according to me, I suck. So I put it away, and vow to never again buy a planner, or to do better next time. (I wouldn't.) 

Then, I read a post a few months ago that my dad sent me (I’ll have to look up the link later and edit this post to add it) that boiled down to something along the lines of “stop trying to do your tasks the way “normal” people do their tasks.” If you have a hard time getting your laundry sorted out because the hamper’s hard to get to, take the lid off the hamper. If making a sandwich is too much work, just eat the parts, no sandwich required. Shit like that. I sat with myself for a few weeks and said to myself, brain, how can I remove obstacles that don’t even seem like obstacles in order to make things less hard?

And then I learned the secret. 

Did you know they make planners that are ONLY a month view?

There’s another secret to this process, by the way—but it applies to a lot more than just planners. Through a bit of soul searching (and by a bit, I mean a lot of grumbling about what a materialistic, vain, optics-centered magpie I am at heart) I figured out that I’m at least 80% more likely to successfully use something if it’s pretty. If I love the way it looks, I am excited to be around it. I am delighted to use it. I am sad when it isn’t nearby. So, the month-view-only planner I bought is also covered in small flowers and made from beautiful low-tooth paper that feels good to write on. I also downloaded many, many, many beautiful habit trackers, goal planning pages, and other freebies from bloomplanners.com (they made my work calendar.) Highly recommend. 

2) I bought a water bottle.

I am probably the most dehydrated person you know personally at basically all times. I’ve literally gone to the ER with medical issues that, while genuine, were all exacerbated by massive dehydration. It’s not just that I hate the taste of water (even though I do) but also that I just...straight up do not remember to drink. Ever. And when I do remember to drink, I never remember how much I’ve had, what’s left to go, any of that crap. 

“But they make apps to remind you!” 

“You can log every time you drink!”

YES, CORRECT, but also may I remind you of the above “remove obstacles from my brain” epiphany from three paragraphs ago: if there’s more than two steps (realistically, more than ONE step) to getting from “I drank water” to “I drank this much water, and now have this much left to go to not die” 

I won’t do it. 

So, I bought myself one of these bad boys. #notanad 

The Hidrate Spark is a “smart” bottle that connects to my iPhone and my AppleWatch. Its connected app will remind me through the watch, as well as via pretty glowing lights on the bottle itself, numerous times a day that I need to drink. When I drink out of the bottle, a sensor will record how much I drank, and immediately log that info into my Health App on my phone. The app automatically uses the humidity and temperature at your location, your weight, your height, and real-time activity data from your watch or phone to update how much your water goal is in realtime. 

Notice how nowhere in that description in there is there anything I have to do to track my intake and hit my goal besides fill out my info in the app once, fill up the bottle, and drink out of it? Yeah, me too.

I’ve avoided buying this bottle for over a year, because it’s a $60 water bottle, and I have twenty water bottles already, and it’s “techie” and “unnecessary” and “silly” and “excessive” and all those other things people say about smart tech, but goddamnit, and ER bill costs more than $60 and I’ve been there four fucking times for this problem. I talked to my fitness director (I work for a YMCA, so, health and fitness woo) a couple friends, and my doctor about it, and everyone agreed it was a good decision, so I did it. I can’t say if it’ll work or not yet because I don’t HAVE it yet, but I promise to keep everyone apprised. 

Also, it’s pretty. 

3) I deleted an ass ton of people off my social media. 

I’ve never cared much about my numbers when it comes to social media, I’m not in it for those, but I have the same problem with my friends lists as I do with my real life: I add without thought and then people I never talk to, never see, never will see, and don’t have an effect on my life...take up space. I’m very happy for all of them, and I hope they have wonderful lives, but I don't need all of them front and center at all times. Plus, after the year I had last year, a lot of people needed to be let go from my life for my sanity and theirs. 

So, on January 2nd, I deleted 160 people from my Facebook friends list, and blocked 7. I thought it would stress me out more—I’m not about the numbers, but I always worry someone will take offense, or be upset. But once I did it, I felt literally, physically, lighter. It hasn’t had any measurable impact yet besides that initial weight-is-lifted feeling, but I know it’s a step in the right direction for my eventual journey towards weaning off a lot of social media platforms. (Did you know facebook is the actual face of evil in the internet age, and we’re all trapped beyond belief?)

4) I cleaned, or cleaned out, everything (and I mean everything) in my house.

This is the biggie! This is it! The goodwill pile is literally taking up every inch of available space in my car! 

(This is also one of those “Ooh, it’s embarrassing, I can’t talk about it” moments I mentioned in the original post. Whelp, here I am, talking about it! Cower in fear! Hide in your homes! Real Talk is coming!)

The Marie Kondo bug that bit all of us last year got me in tandem with a few months of violent living situation upheaval. As a result, I tried to go through my belongings with every moving day I went through, and use those hell experiences as motivation to just. Get. Rid. Of. My. Shit. I’d already started on this task a few years ago, but it’s difficult to describe how much....stuff I’d managed to collect in 18-19 years. It doesn’t take much past the first time you and one friend, or just you, have to move everything you own in a single day to go “oh my god I am never doing that again.” But, I know I’ll have to move again, and even if I didn’t...my stuff was stressing me out. The obvious solution was, and is, “have less stuff.” 

I go through my wardrobe once a month now and try to get rid of at least three things. If you’ve known me since high school or just after, you might remember the absolutely astonishing size of my wardrobe. I mean, truly ridiculous. I achieved my goal early last summer of “all my clothing must fit inside a single closet” and began extending that to the rest of my life with a general rule of replacing the thought “I need more storage” with the thought “I need less stuff.” Obviously, there are some things that really do need better or different storage, and I’m recognizing that, but I can’t actually describe how much better I feel with...literally probably 70% less stuff than I used to own. 

This is an ongoing process in every part of my life, and with the habits I’ve learned and the very particular anxieties that I have (I can’t get rid of this, I might need it one day/that person was so nice to give it to me/someone might get angry if I goodwill it) continuing towards a minimalist outlook will be a path I am on for literally the rest of my life. But it’s a good path—a worthy one—and I’m so absurdly relieved that I’m finally walking on it, regardless of how many stumbles, stops, and starts there might be. 

The bonus part of having less stuff is that it’s suddenly way easier to clean your house; which is what I spent all of Saturday and part of Sunday (today) doing. My combined to-do lists* numbered around 72 items, all-told, and I accomplished almost all of them—everything from sweeping/mopping/vaccuming to moving all the appliances in my kitchen out of their spots and cleaning the sides of them. All the laundry got did. All the shelves got dusted. The tub got scrubbed. The fridge got cleared out. My closet got organized. Even my bed got a facelift in the form of a new duvet cover and some swanky king size pillows. We. Cleaned. Everything. 

And damn does it feel good to have a clean space. It’s so. Much. Easier.  To keep tidied up when I’m annoyed at myself for ruining the room with clutter, or setting something down and not putting it away.* When you have less stuff, everything suddenly has a place...and when it all starts out in that place, it’s way easier to put it back and keep that momentum going.

*/**There is a flip side of this feeling, which is my anxiety this summer beginning to express itself as certain tendencies towards OCD behaviors, but I won’t go into that here. It’ll come up soon enough, but it will need to be another post about that topic specifically and what I did/am doing to work through it. Another post will be about my “listing” and how it works/doesn’t work for me, because these are tandem issues.

I’m sure there’s more than these, but I’m going to stop here.

Mostly because one of my other goals for 2020 is to do better at setting, and sticking to, a routine. (Hey, another post!) That routine involves me being in bed by 11:30PM every day, and awake by 9:30...and it’s 10:44. So for now, goodnight, and I hope this didn’t bore anyone to absolute tears. Even if it did...that’s okay, because this is as much for me as it is for anyone else. 

See ya!

[oracleofimladris]

An Apology

To everyone who’s been around to day and who’s had the misfortune of wondering what in the hell has been going on.

Below the cut as this is going to be lengthy af, just for the record.

Simply put: I was not aware, that on a website where the main medium by which people communicate is reblogs, that there were people who assumed that their followers would not reblog their posts.

Sometime last night or this morning, I reblogged a post from elerondo in the form of a family tree - which I mistakenly assumed was a canon depiction, but was in fact, a personal headcanon (a headcanon they did not which to see reblogged at all).

After doing this, as it was still quite early, I continued with my morning roll-call of social media (tumblr, facebook, instagram, snapchat, discord, etc), and proceeded to the bathroom, and then to shower. Upon exiting the shower, as I sat my ass down, wrapped in a towel and drying, I checked my phone again, and noticed at some point in the last hour, I had received a tumblr message - or three to be exact. You see, I couldn’t have noticed this earlier, as I don’t have notifications enabled on any form of social media. I don’t like to be tied to my phone, and I found that when I did previously, I spent more time on my phone than I would have liked.

The messages are as follows:

Now, these could of course be interpreted as polite, however, I personally felt more like this took the tone of a 3rd and final warning, as opposed to a first interaction. 

Note: I have never before today spoken to the owner of this blog, as you can tell from the lack of messages prior to this morning.

Now, despite the very stiff tone of those messages, my initial reaction was to immediately delete the post, and to then go back to the message to reply and say that I had done so, only to find that I could send a message back.

I thought several things:

- Maybe they don’t have messages enabled (unlikely as they had sent me a message).

- Maybe they enabled it to send the message and disabled it immediately after (again, unlikely, I told myself, as tumbler would probably has deleted the message or something).

- Maybe I have universal messages enabled, whereas they only have “followers” enabled (which, again, is strange, because I was following them, but still, I thought maybe I didn’t remember the options clearly, and opted to send an ask instead).

The ask would have read something as follows:

The post was deleted. Could you at least tell me why, since I’m not a fan of one-sided conversations that benefit no one, and I can’t seem to send you a message back?

Note: I can’t confirm the exact wording as I didn’t copy the message before sending it.

Note: I thought it funny that the blog wasn’t loading as I went to send the ask from mobile, but let’s all be honest here, who hasn’t experienced technical difficulties with tumblr - especially tumblr mobile?

I thought it was weird, but I was in the bathroom, in the innermost part of our appartment, in a giant building made on concrete. I could be sitting by the window sometimes and not get cell reception, much less expect the wifi to travel all the way down the hall is still function at maximum capacity. So yeah, I let it go.

I got up. I dried my hair. I got dressed. I made my bed and sat down at my computer... But a thought was still nagging at me. The blog was still not loading properly on my phone an hour later, so I loaded the message on my computer. Fine. I checked the blog. Fine. I clicked-through on the pm. Bingo!

Nothing. Or whatever the tumblr message is for “you’re not seeing anything here because you’ve been blocked.”

At this point, I won’t lie, I was pretty insulted. In under an hour, I’d been sassed and blocked by someone I’ve literally never spoken to in my life, for doing nothing more than what’s expected of all of us on this god-forsaken hellsite - reblogging a post.

I was upset - angry, even - but I was nearly content to leave it be. However, going back to my first point that the messages struck me as though they were saying “you should know this.”

So I went back to the post and read it over again... No warning. I checked the tags... No warning. I checked the blog description... No warning. I checked their about page... No warning. I checked their rules page... No warning. Something similar about “interactions” - threads? - but nothing about headcanons. No warning whatsoever that this person didn’t want their headcanons reblogged.

Hence the posts you saw from me here, and on my other blog, regarding the reblog function being the cornerstone of tumblr (and elerondo, more like elerond-no). 

I decided to take the matter up with a few friends. I thought, yknow, maybe I’m over-reacting? Maybe I imagined this entire slight? Maybe the message I sent is what made them block me? I don’t even know...

I recounted what happened - to a handful of people now - and each of them weighed in, each of them claiming that they hade never before heard of people not wanting their headcanons reblogged - despite this clearly being what OP was upset about.

Note also that while I made these posts on my own blogs, blogs that were blocked by the OP, I was greeted with notes from a certain thisblogisgettingdeleted.

Now listen, I wouldn’t normally have made a fuss of it, but as this person insta-blocked me (effectively making sure I wouldn’t have a means to reply to them with), but made the very clear effort to make sure I knew they’d seen my messages, I felt rightly insulted.

At this point, I decided that since the only way to communicate with them would be through a blog that wasn’t blocked, I’d need to create a new one, and in order for the message to be posted if they ever replied to it the message would need to be anonymous.

That said, it certainly didn’t come out as nicely as my first message would have:

I made this side-blog for the express purpose to reiterrating my original message, and informing them that they were mistaken in assuming that it was “common knowledge” that people shouldn’t reblog headcanons. And that I thought their manner of going about things was childish at best, though obviously left that part out.

To this, they responded as follows:

Now, I don’t know if everyone is reading this the same way as me, but my first and foremost impression of this, upon reading it was that “first of all, I wasn’t passive-aggressive. I was full-on aggressive,” struck me as an odd choice of words. 

Surely, being full-on aggressive shouldn’t be something to brag about?

Note the following “you can’t accept that I blocked you,” preceeded by their creating of a side-blog to not only revisit my blog, but to interact there as well.

Followed closely by myself not being civil for not sending them a simple message... Note the steps I had to go through for them to even get this one.

Here they mention messaging me with their request, and their request not being met... An hour, guys. A single fucking hour - in which I shit you not, I was in the shower. That’s what I was given to respond to this. And yo, that’s the amount of time between when I checked my tumblr. That’s not even guaranteeing they sent me that message right after I switched apps. For all I know it could have been 30 minutes, or less.

Note: “do not reblog my ooc posts if it doesn’t include you,” still does not refer to headcanons, and I foresee them having this exact problem again in the future.

Now I was presumed to be online because I was still reblogging things... A mistake on our dear OPs part. Dears and dolls, if you’ve been following me for any significant period of time, then you know my queue is always full. Ergo, my blog is always running, even when I’m not around.

For this person whom I have never spoken to to assume anything about my life, much less to assume that I’m around to cater to their every whim, frankly astounds me. Even if I was online, which I wasn’t, I wouldn’t necessarily have seen the message right away eg. if I was on my computer and had a dozen or more tabs open, if I was in the process of looking at another blog, which cuts off the tool bar, or whatever other scenario.

Following this post, several comments were added by both OP and a follower of theirs:

After comments like these, I’m supposed to believe that “a message saying [I] have deleted of sth would have sufficed for [them] to unblock?”

Highly. Doubtful.

That said, I took it upon myself to also message the person in these comments, as they clearly weren’t going to waste any more time than OP did in finding out what happened.

As you can see from the following, they fare no better:

Blocked. Again.

Deserved? At this point, I don’t even care.

For those who were around to see it, my response to elerondo’s post was made on my personal dump as it was the only place associated with my main blog that would be able to post it.

For those who didn’t, you can find it HERE, or below:

In the end, I’m not writing this because I want this shit to keep going. I’m writing it because I got a lot of advice from various different people and the truth is this...

TL;DR:

The apology is for those of you who’ve been wondering what’s going on all day, not for the persons involved.

I did not send the message anonymously because I wanted to be anonymous. I really don’t care either way, because what I did was was not wrong. In no way is reblogging a god damn post on tumblr, of all places, wrong. However, the initial response I got, and the confirmation that it was indeed meant to be aggressive, have shown me that elerondo - and likely the company they keep as well - have no interest in being polite, or even in remaining civil, but instead are quick to insult and play the victim.

In essence...

Talk shit.

Get hit.

And if you can’t handle it, you probably shouldn’t be on the internet.

Sincerely,

Me.

[aleksandrakv]

Social media in Adam Lambert’s life&career

It’s been so long since I’ve written anything longer than a tweet about Adam, but this stanning lethargy doesn’t reflect the level of my interest in the man. It may appear so, but can the lack of online presence automatically imply the lack of interest? In today’s state of affairs, when artists have carefully constructed and heavily monitored internet presence, when YouTube views are everything and the most powerful politicians seem to pay more attention to Twitter than their jobs, it would be understandable if it could. The www. has finally become literally that – a worldwide group chat, where presidents tweet, where actors, musicians and sportsmen keep vlogs on YouTube, writers publish their essays on Facebook, and everybody comments.

Adam Lambert has chosen not to do so. In an era when YouTube stars become singers who get Saturday Night Live slots where they whisper the lyrics into a microphone, and when the top trending video which garnered more than 30 million views in a day is one of a reality star announcing her pregnancy, Adam has taken a quiet step back in the past few years - and I together with him. I couldn’t help it. Twitter has lost its appeal to me ever since a constant possibility that Adam could see a particularly flaily or witty tweet was no longer an option – the magic of giddy anticipation was gone. For all intents and purposes, Adam has semi-abandoned Twitter and moved to Instagram; a Facebook affiliated app which I never took a liking to.

I was upset and a little resentful. I didn’t understand why. Not only did I have to suffer the cruel Atlantic Ocean between us, but now we were on different online apps, which is a fate way worse than living on different continents, according to cyber sense of geography. In my bitterness, I even had an occasional mean thought on the subject. Oh yeah, that’s because he can ogle hot guys there. What about MEEE? Or, even worse: it’s because of the filters. The man LOVES a good filter, the vain queen. Or, absolutely the worst: he wanted to escape the twitter crazies. It was the worst because I should have known that the crazies are everywhere. I was bitchy, mean, and so, so wrong. This essay is my redemption. The price I want to pay for my stupidity, because Adam does have a social media presence, albeit not as aggressive as I might like. There is a reason for that, which he has already given. I had read it before, but it flew right over me like a sparrow, equally tender and fragile, leaving my head unruffled and thoughtless as if nothing had happened.

Even on his preferred social network, Adam’s behavior is somewhat atypical, in a sense that he doesn’t hesitate to share less than perfect photos. Unfiltered, sweaty, in-your-face, flaking makeup photos of the realistic kind - a rare occurrence among the Hollywood hotties. But he is a geek like the rest of us. The anticipation of waiting for the first photos to appear when he has a concert is one of the best parts of being his fan. Adam is incredibly photogenic, but sometimes, those photos are low quality ones, taken by fans on their phones, from pretty unflattering angles. Adam somehow manages to look great in most of them, despite the low angles and the fact that great physical exertion makes everyone look awful. Being photographed in the middle of an adrenaline rush while singing from the top of your lungs for two hours is challenging. His facial features almost rearrange with strain, but Adam simply knows how to pose and is rarely caught off guard – a life’s tiny miracle.  I love those candid pictures. And Adam posts only the best of them.

It’s the professional photos where he shines the most. Those are usually true works of art, crispy sharp and simply stunning in their quality. I don’t think I’ve ever seen less than perfect professional photo of Adam. They capture the moments that would otherwise be missed and allow you to fully appreciate the visual side the concert. In videos, the focus is primarily on the sound and the movement, but if I had to choose which medium reflects Adam’s emotional state and journey during concerts best, I would choose photography. It’s a strange thing to say about a singer, but Adam has a very expressive face and body. It’s like their muteness and stillness don’t subtract, but add to the experience of Adam’s process of creation.

In addition to music photography, Adam posts everything and anything that’s important to him, seemingly with no rhyme or reason. His Instagram page is a mess, a potpourri of professional photos, fan photos, album covers, photos of his family, friends, his dog, travelling photos, fashion photos, and all that in uneven levels of quality which most posters would never allow themselves. Adam has it all, from professional HD quality to grainy and blurry shots taken by a phone. It’s a far cry from carefully coordinated, handpicked and posted after a thousandth try stylish representation of other serious posters. He doesn’t juice for a week before taking selfies. He doesn’t always filter. He doesn’t always look pretty. He isn’t always all mysterious and artistic. He’s sometimes such a goofball. He is definitely an undisciplined Instagram user. 

It’s a revealing fact. He deletes his posts sometimes, and I’m not sure if it’s the morning after self-filtering, or he gets the call. Social media can make or break a career nowadays. But on the other hand, you can be a successful artist without constant media presence – although it is a pretty rare occurrence. The only example coming to my mind is Frank Ocean. There are artists who have a modest number of followers and YouTube views, and yet they can and do fill up arenas, just as there are artists who have millions of followers and cannot have a decent tour. 

In Adam’s case, I feel like he is past making or breaking his career online. At this point, he doesn’t need a heavily moderated Instagram page or a vlogging channel to achieve anything - other than making me happier, that is. The fact that I would love if Adam was more present, by engaging with his fans more, or, in best case scenario, vlogging about his life and career (I would sell my firstborn for that), doesn’t mean much in grander scheme of things. Adam has allowed himself the luxury of doing what he wants, and his Instagram page reflects that in the clearest of ways. I am not saying he wouldn’t benefit from having 50 million followers on Twitter or Instagram, but, he just doesn’t have that. If he can’t get it from doing his job and being who he is, he will never get it anyway. He refuses to participate in the social media race. So, unlike many a budding YouTube star trying to make it in other fields by creating an ideal, unrealistic impression of themselves, with their uniform, heavily filtered, grayscale artsy photos, Adam’s multifarious posts do reveal a lot simply by not being what one would expect. He’s a rebel just for kicks there. 

Oh, there is some vanity there; he isn’t above it nor does he pretend to be. He smizes and pouts in many filtered photos and videos, enjoying his flawless skin provided by Instagram CEO Kevin Systrom’s filtering system, turning his head like this and like that like a Valley girl – but that’s just Adam playing with his toy. He has this proclivity for ridiculous behavior; that and the fact that he loves the ageless chibi art of Creative Sharka makes me sometimes think that he has entered a serious fear-of-getting-old phase. It would have been true if he posted such photos only, which he most definitely doesn’t.

Adam is a naturally beautiful man, why does he have to goof around like that? Well, because he is so much more than that. Because more than stunning good looks, he has a killer sense of humor. Because more than looking pretty and feeding his vanity, he loves having fun. He mocks himself, too. “I swear I didn't realize I was making full duck face” is his own comment on a truly astounding full duck face he made while trying to credit Valentino for a clothing item. He loves stand-up comedy. He’s watched the Amy Schumer Leather special, and the Ricky Gervais Humanity special, and posted about both shows. That’s how I know.

There’s a selfie which he took while Antinous was being tattooed on his torso – a particularly painful experience, according to him; hence the awkward facial expression. The photo is so ridiculous and unflattering that it immediately reminded me of the comical selfies which Ricky Gervais takes all the time, trying to look as ugly as possible in them, thus expressing his mockery on the worldwide mania of posting unrealistically perfect photos. Adam has a comedic streak a mile wide, and not only does it come out in concerts and movie roles such as his part of Eddie in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but also in his Instagram page as well. Unlike Ricky, Adam just wants to laugh at himself. Yes, he sometimes looks ridiculous and weird - don’t we all? He’s no bullshitter, and never will be. 

Now would be a great moment to mention his Grandma June alter ego. So, Adam has decided it would be great to make himself look forty years older, name the character Grandma June and rant throughout several videos on many a current topic. Who? What? Adam, the most eligible gay bachelor of several times? Adam, the Zeus in a thong sex symbol for many? Unbelievable. Waves of discomfort could be felt throughout the shallower waters of the fandom. Was he just having fun with it? Was he mocking himself for overusing de-aging filters? Was he helping himself get over his own fear of aging by laughing at his own expense? Was it some kind of reverse psychology/psychotherapy via Snapchat filters? Was it to shock his fans who come to his page for hotness and beauty galore, only to find Grandma June blinking owlishly at them? The list is endless. It’s like he was saying, ‘yeah, I’m hot, but I’m also ridiculous, funny and a little bit on the crazy side.’ Who knows. It’s certainly less ridiculous than me putting words in his mouth. It is also very non-Hollywood of Adam, where ageism is rampant and the anti-aging industry flourishes, where kids start injecting botox as soon as they’re twenty and where a lot of people take faces they’re born with as a slight suggestion. Interesting topic.

We’re now traipsing deeper and deeper into Adam’s more hidden depths. This makes it sound like scrolling through his Instagram page is a voyage into the heart of darkness, the Apocalypse Now style; but it does feel adventurous after you parse through the regular job-related stuff. Such aside interests tell us a lot about him and his fascinations, like his love and respect for other artists. He is a true fan at heart, expressing himself unabashedly and passionately – so many pictures of Freddie, Bowie and George Michael, but also Goldfrapp, Demi, Lady Gaga, and all his musician friends. Sometimes, he puts the flailers in his own fandom to shame. I like that about him. I feel like it’s a level we can relate on. And I love that he doesn’t have cheap, tit-for-tat, I’ll-do-you-and-you-do-me mentality. When he says that he likes something, you better fucking believe that he does.

He also loves nature. He posts sceneries – the beloved Runyon Canyon, the Ibiza cruise, Mexico, Bali, Mykonos in Greece, Argentina, you name it - but, he will also post a photo of a single olive tree. The fandom speculated for three days about what it could possibly mean. He posted a video of a single butterfly flapping its wings, and a colony of bats, and a lonely gecko crawling up the wall and a mother duck and her ducklings swimming in the lake. Endless photos of Pharaoh don’t even count. Details from around him capture his attention in a way that he expresses his emotive, intuitive side by showing us the impact they have on him. In his private moments, he is a far cry from a wild rocker living his wild rock’n’roll life. He’s so much more than that. He’s a tree watcher. A butterfly watcher. A bird watcher. Life and observing life clearly excites him.

He also loves architecture. He will post pictures of streets and buildings, sculptures and monuments, from everywhere he goes, and he travels a lot. Someone else would probably spend all pre- and post-concert time in hibernation accumulating energy, but not Adam. He loves the bas-reliefs, ancient facades, the Greco-Roman culture, supporting columns and carvings of Venetian houses; but every now and then he will also post some strange things, like tombstones. He’s a traveler with a twist. When he goes somewhere new, he sometimes visits cemeteries.  He’s been to Boston Cemetery and Buenos Aires Cemetery. He posted a photo of the entrance to Jesus’ tomb from his visit to Jerusalem. No matter what B Hollywood horror movies are trying to tell us, cemeteries are never about being creepy or frightful -- they are like a library for the imagination. Wandering cemeteries around the globe, reading headstones, thinking about the lives of the people there, the mind wanders into a thousand stories. It can be therapeutic. But, who knows what Adam’s motives were. All I know is that he is more than just a traveler – he is also a spiritual explorer.

In everything he does, he rarely stays within the lines. This diversity tells us that Adam is a complex man before he is an artist, and even less than he is an artist, that he is a promoting artist. His self-promoting campaigns are there, but ever so subtle and discrete - nothing like the aggressive campaigning that has become obligatory nowadays. I’m not talking about the management or the label part in it, or whoever is in charge of his promotion; just Adam’s own role in it. A few tweets, a few Instagram posts, mostly just informative in nature, before a new release. Regarding concerts, a tweet before and after is a rarity. An occasional review. He will sometimes post great photos after concerts, though. I have no idea how to explain such behavior other than to say that he doesn’t want to do it, nor does he feel like he has to. Maybe he is of the ‘an artist should never reveal too much and keep a level of mystery’ persuasion. Maybe he believes the music will find its way to those who want to hear it. Or maybe he just finds it tacky, as I do, the ad nauseam self-promoting of certain artists. Who knows. I certainly wouldn’t find it tacky if Adam did it. We’ll see how Era 4 will roll out and if Adam will be more talkative then. The one explanation I personally find the most believable is that he is a well-mannered man who believes that you should let someone else praise you, and not your own mouth; an outsider, and not your own lips; but that’s because I tend to attribute Adam superhuman qualities. He can’t be that much of a gentleman, can he?

He is not very verbose in his Instagram captions either; most of them, that is. His posts are usually with very little or no comment from him. He tags the people in the photo, or he gives credit to the photographer – he is pretty diligent about it. On few unfortunate occasions when that didn’t happen, we had a mutiny among the photographers which ended with bruised egos on both sides.

So sparse are his comments, that when you do bump onto a few loquacious ones, you just know that it must be something of utter importance or that he feels strongly about. You don’t have to guess anything then, or draw unfortunate conclusions, which is a game his fans like to play and that Adam likes to engage us in by dropping random hints. No game here – his words are loud and crystal clear, concise and to the point, and apart from bringing my attention to the relevance of such particular posts, they serve to remind me what a great thinker and an amazing human being Adam is. Those words are always about love and equality.   

One of such glimpses into his more private, passionate side is certainly his love and appreciation for  Creative Sharka, a fan who makes digital paintings and chibi art of Adam and the moments in his career. He has posted her art several times and even met with her during his tour - such gratitude and appreciation of a fan really warms my heart. It tells me what I already knew: that he is such a fan himself, a great lover of everything that inspires him and open in his heart for the reciprocal love exchange between artists as the highest form of flattery. He’s had such situation in his career several times, on various levels, but this one with a fan feels truly rewarding.

Creative Sharka gives him her art, but it doesn’t have to be a tangible thing. One of the most revealing and emotional comments he wrote under a photo from one of his performances reveals so much. It is a photo whose focal point are the backs of two people, two guys, who are leaning against one another in a hug, their heads connected, and they are facing Adam singing on the stage in the background. They are in the forefront, their body language speaking of love; Adam is in the background, perhaps inspiring such connection. His comment says, “Really in luv w this photo. So sweet.”  I’ve never read Adam saying that about any picture, and it’s one of the amateur, fan ones, too – and all the more precious for that.  

But, does he always feel the love? Do we? Most of the times, I am sure that he does. But I have always imagined Adam as a highly emotional guy, which also means a great capacity for sadness, too, especially with so many reasons for it surrounding us. There is one, literally one sad comment that I have encountered during all these years. It’s under a photo of Frank the Robot’s head, taken before the show, with the top half of it waiting patiently to be connected with its bottom half by diligent Queen crew, so that Adam can ride it and spew obscenities into the audience from its shiny, metallic head. “Sad Clown,” is Adam’s caption. I don’t know if he felt bad for Frank at that moment, or the words are about Killer Queen, but there is a possibility  that the words are about Frank’s rider later on. Sometimes, he does have to hide his sadness and paint his smile on. Who doesn’t.

He truly belongs to one of the rarest of species – a beautiful man who becomes even more beautiful when he opens his mouth and speaks. Or sings. In the pre-Trump, pre-Brexit, pre-Vučić era, I used to take his words for granted. I believed everybody thought so, or almost everybody. I was spectacularly wrong. The bout of sadness that gripped me then is still not easing up. How can it? This Weltschmerz has affected everyone with a soul - Adam, too. Will our physical reality ever satisfy the demands of our minds and souls ever again? I believe so, as long as there are people like Adam, like Emma Gonzalez, like many others who are fighting for it. That is what hope sounds like. With rising urgency, Adam speaks up.

“Black lives matter. For all of u who totally miss the point of this movement, the GOAL is for all lives to matter equally. But as it stands, racism is preventing us from that ideal. We must fix the reality so we can grow toward hope.”

We must fix the reality… We really do, Adam. Faced with such thoughts, don’t all previous words about promotion and lack of internet presence sound frivolous? I am glad that this is how Adam feels. I am so proud of him for sharing his thoughts. 

When he posted a photo of Freddie, pointing out the hypocrisy of the ruling US political party using Freddie Mercury’s music, some people seemed to have an issue with that. This was Adam’s reply:

“I realize that there are many different schools of thought frequented by people following me on social media. EVERYONE is entitled to their opinions and beliefs. Including me. This is MY Instagram page where I share my experiences and feelings. If you don't agree with something, that's perfectly ok with me - but I'm not going to refrain from being me, and no one is forcing you to either.”

And refrained he has not. 

He’s spoken against the gun violence. 

He’s spoken about Orlando. About Paris. About all mass shootings. 

He’s also spoken at the Los Angeles Pride Resist March last year. Here are some of his words:

“I typically avoid publicly speaking about politics because of its divisiveness. People get real sensitive, and I ain’t trying to piss anybody off. But, this year things have gone way too far.

So I’m not speaking today about being a democrat vs. a republican. Today is about right vs. wrong. The current presidential administration has manipulated the country using fear and hate to gain power to divide us. Our differences are being used against us. And the shockwaves of this dangerous rhetoric have rippled throughout our community and beyond. And it fucking hurts. We’ve come way too far to stand by and watch our social progress be yanked backwards. It’s almost as if they’re going, ‘Eh, you’re different. You can’t sit with us.’ What the fuck is that? It’s childish and it needs to end now.

Our pride parade is usually an all out shit show of a party where we all dress up like crazy unicorns and prance around through the streets. Yeah! It’s a celebration of the progress we have made – our liberation, our freedom, our glitter. But this year, we are facing such dark forces that pride has taken on a deeper purpose. Protest. So today, we stand together in order to support anyone whose human rights are at risk. We resist homophobia. We resist transphobia. We resist misogyny. Bi-invisibility. We resist racism. Xenophobia. And we resist extremism, and anything else that helps promote hate. We stand defiant and will not be brainwashed. We refuse to be sucked into that kind of negativity.

But, I ask you not to fight hate with hate. We don’t want to be hypocrites. So how can we resist? I’ll tell you what I think:  with unity, with visibility, truth, inclusion, acceptance, and most importantly – love.”

Don’t his words boom loud? Read them and abide by them. Don’t scroll through or ignore them. 

Shame on those who think that Adam should only do his job and stop voicing his opinions and views. 

Shame on those who, blinded by his beauty, refer to him as a Ken doll. 

Shame on those who say that he is back in the closet. 

In his Love Letter to the LGBTQ community, which was published in Billboard magazine last year, he talks more about what his community means to him:

“Y'all are my true inspiration. You're life lines that have kept me grounded and thankful. All the LGBTQ musicians, dancers, drag queens, bar stars, club kids, DJ's, designers, actors, stylists, glam squads..... YOU are my circus family. It is because of all those years traipsing round our nocturnal playgrounds that I had any sense of how and why I wanted to stay the course; to rep for my queer family!

And now 8 years later, the LGBTQ community has come SO far. I see fellow artists AND civilians coming out with no apologies and no fucks given. Despite the current obstacles we face, I am blown away by our progress. We have come so far. My true fans share the same principles so we continue to welcome other alien weirdos into our family. Thank you ALL for inspiring and supporting my journey. I promise to keep doing the same for all of you.”

Should he speak more frequently? Adam has voiced his opinions time and again, but he won’t misuse the opportunity given to him. He has a sophisticated sense for not crossing the line between his art and his humanitarian fight. He  never pushes anything under anyone’s nose; not his art; not his fight. He never uses just causes as a self-promoting opportunity. 

This is all part of the reply to the question from the beginning about what the lack of social presence can mean. His social presence isn’t lacking, it is just of the unobtrusive kind. It’s all out there, only a few clicks away. Are we so used to the constant media shoveling content down our metaphorical throats that we can’t even register when something’s said only once?

Apparently, I am. Because I have already read Adam Lambert’s own explanation about deciding to moderate his social media presence and it hasn’t even made a blip on my radar at the time. I won’t tell you where his words are from, you can try to guess. It’s a direct quote. It says everything.  

How pathetic now seems the discussion about  flattering vs. less flattering photos? Don’t ask this man about the size of his gauges for a hundredth time and expect him to engage with his fans more. But Adam does, he does engage, for he isn’t a mean man and he answers the same trivial questions again and again. It’s perhaps a much better option than talking, I don’t know, about Weltschmerz. Sometimes, such discussions are better avoided, and not only that - he has already said what he wanted to say. It’s much more bearable to repeat the silly topics than the raw, emotional ones. The repetition hurts, and devalues the latter.  

It really is a journey, from Grandma June, to cultivating self-love and True Individuality; only not to the heart of darkness, but to the one of lightness. It’s all him, the philosopher and the comedian, the Frank’s head rider and the march speaker. Read his words. Don’t forget them, like I did. Laugh with him, but also think with him and be sad with him.

“True Individuality seems daunting in our age of social media popularity contests. Sometimes it’s terrifying to face your true, whole self, stripped of any pretense. The good, the bad, the cracks, and the scars. I am no stranger to the feeling of not liking myself. Once I get past my own body image issues, I realize that I sometimes also neglect my own spirit. Living in a world filled with so much hatred sometimes makes cultivating self-love a very difficult task. I have always struggled with this as I’m sure many of you have. My path is a kind of paradox in that I get to share my craft with the world, but also be willing to throw myself to the wolves. To dare to be different, but still wanting to be accepted. There is vast beauty to be found in life’s contradictions. This non-binary reality allows us to lead happy, expressive lives, and yet this very freedom comes with great risks. I’m not alone in this limbo. Through my art, I pledge to bring empathy and courage to anyone who has been made to feel unworthy or ashamed while daring to be themselves.”

***

~The sources for everything mentioned in the essay are Adam Lambert’s social media pages. I’ve decided against posting any links because I feel like this one reference is enough.

~No photos either,  since I mention too many of them  and this bloody thing is too long already. Just this one.

[maiji]

Process and wip images for A House That Holds Long Limbs

You can read the pages for part 1 here (full complete version will be linked from YYH North Bound master post whenever it’s done.)

Every so often I get questions about how I work, and I also enjoy reading about how other creators make things, so perhaps this might be interesting and useful to somebody out there too. I’ve talked about my process before but never really documented and shared it WHILE working on a project, so here you can see some of my thinking and decision-making (and poor habits lol) a bit more immediately, alongside screenshots, photos and scans.

Very long, everything is below the cut, and apologies to people on mobile and anywhere else this goofs up.

One question I get a lot is “do you start with words or pictures when creating a comic?” I jump between both a lot. That said, I tend to lean more heavily on words when documenting ideas in the early stages of a project. This is because, for me:

Words pack a lot of punch in conveying detail quickly. They work better when I need to quickly communicate something extremely specific to future me. I’m a sloppy drawer, so my sketches tend to make future me squint and go, “What the hell was this supposed to be?!”

A great deal of my thinking and planning is done during crowded commutes. It’s more convenient to jot notes on my phone than to whip out my sketchbook and a pen.

(For a while I thought it’d be awesome to have some sort of app where I can type notes AND have an accompanying thumbnail sketch, and be able to drag them around or break them out into more or fewer pages. At one point years ago I thought about creating a custom app... but ultimately too lazy/busy and my current process works well enough. If anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, please feel free to do so and just let me know about it so I can try it haha.)

I usually start with a few lines summarizing the gist of the idea, enough that’s recognizable and I don’t forget the important things to build off from. From there, I start point-form outlining the stuff that needs to happen, structuring them into key scenes/parts. These scenes are not always fleshed out in order - I just add to them whenever I have ideas for that part. 

Long Limbs, for example, had a progression like this:

Overall story idea: “horror story with rokurokubi, key plot point(s) happens, the end.” (There was a bit more detail than this, obviously, but we’re avoiding spoilers here.)

Initial description for Part 1 of the story: “Hokushin lured to go to somewhere. Separated from Raizen. HOW??????”

After letting it simmer for while, a solution: “Hokushin annoyed at Raizen. Opportunity for him to get away and go do his own thing.”

Gradually more detail: “Stranger invites him to go to this place to look into something/maybe has a paid job that needs to be done and Raizen is busy goofing off or whatever.”

Problem. I couldn’t resolve this chain of thought to my satisfaction. What kind of task/job can someone convince Hokushin to do on his own when he doesn’t know this person/it seems questionable? And how long will the conversation need to run to establish this as believable?

This was starting to get convoluted and I was getting annoyed because it was turning into a burden in being able to continue the story AND IT WASN’T EVEN THAT IMPORTANT. I decided to abandon this path of thinking, and left the entire story for a while.

Much later (like months?), I had an idea: “Mysterious person drops something, piques Hokushin’s curiosity.” Aha! Hokushin’s own initiative. Simple and plausible enough. HOORAY NO MORE THINKING. LET’S DRAW.

Then I realized, oh shoot, I need to figure out who this mysterious person is and what they dropped. More time passes. And so on… in between I’m always working on other things, so there’s no real creator’s block - at some point I start thinking about this comic again, and ideas work themselves out to some decent level of satisfaction and link together. Thanks subconscious!

Eventually, enough key scenes are fleshed out that I feel confident enough to turn this into a real thing. At present, for example, not all scenes in Long Limbs are totally worked out, but I’ve got enough that I ran ahead with Part 1.

Screenshot of the Google Docs notes/script for Part 1: 

This is a close-to-final version. The === on top is just to separate this from notes on other stories or ideas. This is the beginning of the document, but this document actually includes many other notes and stories for North Bound. I delete them as I finish and post the pages. Every so often I wonder if I should bother keeping them, but they’ve been refined throughout the process and usually don’t bear much resemblance to the original jotted notes anymore. Long Limbs was originally planned to be a later story in North Bound, but I got especially excited about it and fleshed it out further than the others. When I reviewed the earlier stories, I didn’t think there’d be a big continuity or reader experience issue if this was finished and posted first. So I moved the messy notes for this story to the top of the document. 

The page breakdown for the script is done by me generally picturing in my head how I might want the scene to go and how much action I might be able to fit on the page for good effect. I’ll sometimes start paginating without thumbnails, and sometimes will do both side by side (thumbnail and update pagination in tandem).

As you might imagine, pagination frequently changes. For example, you’ll see the script above is 9 pages instead of 10.

The original script for this section was broken up into maybe 4-6 pages, with 5-7 being more condensed.

When I started thumbnailing, I found it felt too cluttered and moved too fast.

So I stretched out the part of Hokushin and the mystery girl exchanging glances, and added pages to be able to create a (hopefully) more cinematic feel and really focus on the reason they catch each other’s eye - the bandages on their necks.

I then went back to the Google Doc and updated the script to line it up better.

I was also tweaking the dialogue at the same time and didn’t want to forget any key phrasing I liked. Dialogue is another thing I get really hung up over, often changing words up to the last second. (Sometimes this is because I messed up the size of the speech bubble, if I’m lettering on the computer...)

Thumbnails:

Pretty close to the final in this case - mainly because the sequence is pretty simple and straightforward and not many people are involved. I keep my thumbnails very crappy and rough so that I don’t get upset later when I can’t redraw something as good as the thumbnail. Bottom right was a quick attempt at designing the mystery girl.

Once I think the thumbnails are good enough - translation: I get impatient and just want to start drawing - I proceed to pencils for the actual page.

Throughout all this, I’m repeatedly reviewing script and thumbnail and playing sequences out in my head and then trying to figure out how to better direct the “camera” and the action. I may go back to the script and the thumbnails even as I’m finetuning the actual page if I encounter issues. You can see in both the script and the thumbnails that there are still deviations in the dialogue and the art from the final. Here are a few examples:

Page 3: The panels were originally 1) the setting, 2) Hokushin with his arms folded, 3) Raizen laughing, 4) we see that Hokushin is watching Raizen. After reviewing the thumbnail, I felt it’d be a better setup to flow into the scene if I switched panels 2 and 3. That’s closer to how you’d experience it in real life, or how it might be directed in a shot sequence: you enter an area/place, you hear the sound of some guy’s loud laughter filling the air, then the camera zooms up to the annoyed expression of this one particular dude and you see he’s staring at the laughing guy. Moving from bigger ambience to smaller details around the room.

Page 7: The girl was originally turning in the other direction (hard to tell because I redrew it right on top of the original sketch lol). However, this meant all the directional action would be pointing to the right - Hokushin is facing the right, and when he leaves the bar he’s angling towards the right side of the page. Facing the direction that readers will read in gives a sense of driving the action forward, while facing the opposite direction provides a bit of a mental stop. (This is something from Scott McCloud that always stuck with me.) So, I flipped the girl around.

Page 8: Script has Hokushin going “What’s this?”. When thumbnailing, I thought, “obviously it’s self-evident he’s wondering what this is when he picks it up”. It added nothing to the panel, and the speech or thought bubble would have interrupted the smooth action of him picking up the paper. So, axed.

The damn friggin’ bar and gambling: You’ll see the script mention this, and at one point I actually had the guy standing across from Raizen saying “Is this guy drunk?” I’m actually not sure if they’re in a bar or if Raizen is drinking, but neither were important to the actual story because I just needed Raizen and Hokushin to be in a place where Raizen could hang out with humans and be stupid. So I dropped these details. This is mainly because I ran into historical research problems about bars and alcohol during the Kamakura period (more on that near the end of this post), and this was the only way to stop myself from getting hung up on trying to make it “perfect” and “correct” and just get it done. 

Drawing the actual pages. This part is fun!

Inking the actual pages. THIS PART IS NOT FUN :( 

I don’t have very steady hands and I get very anxious about messing things up, so inking always takes me the longest. (I also get distracted easily, e.g., ink two lines and then surf tumblr for ten minutes lol). I’ve improved a lot since I started drawing comics much more frequently a couple years ago, and my choice of tools and style has helped a lot (I lean to variable lines and sketchy style, which is more forgiving than, say, a very precise art style with fixed-width pens) but I still get nervous at this stage.

I’m very lazy so I usually stick with one tool for inking. For Long Limbs I tried to effort more and actually used three. Right to left: Sailor fude de mannen for panel borders and text, Muji pen for artwork (0.4 because that was the only size available at the store when I went to get my refill), Pentel pocket brush for filling in blacks. I refill the fude de mannen and the pocket brush with fountain pen inks.

I usually ink panel borders first, then speech bubbles, then everything else. I hop all over the place and pages are generally in varying stages of completion. I also sometimes add in some more text lines because it seems like a good idea at the time - Hokushin’s complaint on page 3 about how he should have left Raizen when he got into a fight with a fish-seller in a previous story, for example. Sometimes these work, sometimes I regret it later and edit it on the computer.

Cover thumbnails and pencil sketch:

The one in the page thumbnails was the original idea, but then I thought, “seems kinda cliched. Can I get a more interesting angle where he’s not looking straight at the viewer?” (OK, his eyes are covered, but you know what I mean.) I quickly tried a few other angles and compositions, didn’t like them and ended up going with pretty much the original idea, but more zoomed in.

In the thumbnails, you can see all my little x’s indicating “ehhhh I don’t like this”. I wanted something with a particular mood/atmosphere especially with all the hands and arms, and I was conflicted between zooming out (for more environment and more arms, and the focus on the “long limbs” part of the title) or having a tighter, more close up shot. Ultimately I think the latter works better as it conveys a sense of claustrophobia, and it’s more intimate which supports the idea of psychological horror. ALSO IT’S SEXY (maybe???). The end.

Other random thoughts:

I took a lot of heart/inspiration/motivation from Togashi’s last few volumes of Yu Yu Hakusho to keep the backgrounds as lazy - I mean sparse - as possible and also speech bubbles over plain backgrounds lmao. I think it takes a lot of confidence (or maybe laziness) to be so minimalist and restrained, and it’s an impressive and economical way of working. I was always impressed that when reading those pages of his for the first time, the lack of detail never really bothered me - you had everything you needed for your brain to comfortably fill in the gaps and complete the sense of narrative and story progression, and there are still visual flourishes when the situation calls for it. So I’m trying to bring a bit of that tighter philosophy in.

Research. I struggle a LOT with not getting bogged down by details, especially when it’s something “just” for fun or “just” a fancomic. I have very lovely and helpful friends and family who every so often patiently allow me to whine and bounce things off of them, help me look things up, and/or tell me when I’m getting myopic about stuff. For all the North Bound comics, finding quick and useful historical references for the time period has been a challenge. There’s a ton about aristocracy and warriors but very little about the ordinary/common people, not surprisingly. I frequently question my instincts about what makes sense because I tend to automatically draw on similar/equivalent Chinese culture (there was certainly lots of cross-over, but not always appropriate/relevant) or Edo period references (wrong time frame! Too far in the future). I often end up losing a ton of time trying to find something with roundabout searches, and then give up and look at other comics I have close enough to the time period. And then referencing those and compounding whatever historical errors they have in them. (e.g., “Well if it was good enough for Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix it’s good enough for this rando fancomic!”) I just would like historical/subject matter experts to know I did try...

[kbyyru]

Forgiveness

first off, for those few of you on here who know me and used to pay attention to my page before i left - yes i did have a bit of a breakdown almost a year ago and no, i didn’t do anything. i didn’t hurt myself but man oh man did i feel like it. (unless you count going on a bender hurting myself, then in that case yes i absolutely did)

what prompted this, you may ask? well for both those who did ask and those who didn’t, here we go. for about 6 months of last year (2016 for reference) i was in a borderline - maybe full on - abusive relationship. i will not be saying names; only referring to my ex using pronouns (she, her, and so on)

it started off easily enough, two people who dated once had some time apart and after some time passed started talking again. we eventually decided that things had been worked out enough to give a relationship another chance, which at the time was something i wanted because i actually did have feelings for this girl. one of the things we agreed on was that we were going to make communication more of a priority; lack of communication was something that caused our breakup in the first place. the first few months were honestly the best part. we were actually talking more and making more attempts to see each other, you know, like an actual relationship. i felt like i actually had a girlfriend and i can only assume it was vice versa for her.

obviously this didn’t last. skip to a couple months or so before things ended and it’s back to how things were the first time. it would be days before i get so much as a text/snapchat back versus being left on read. on several occasions i was ready to say “i can’t do this any more, we’re through”, but it never failed - before i would get the chance to say that i would get something from her and it convinced me that things were going to be okay. at these points we would actually get to talk, and inevitably i would try and set up a date. me trying to see my girlfriend would mean contact stops, and it would be some amount of time before i would get to talk to her again. there was always some excuse to why i never got to talk to her as well - she caught sick a lot for someone who hardly ever leaves home and was always too sick to text me back. i would nearly always end up getting bored and opening Facebook only to see that she wasn’t too sick to share posts and get in long comment threads. i can’t talk to her but she can talk to anyone else.

our birthday rolls around (coincidentally we had the same birthday but not the same year) and i see that her favorite band is coming through. i make sure i have the day off work and buy us tickets, trying to be that awesome boyfriend. we go to the show, i’m not really into it (not my type of music) but she has a great time so i’m happy. at one point she goes to show me something on her phone and for the quarter second it takes for the phone to unlock and her to open whatever she was showing me, i see Tinder installed. not wanting to cause trouble (me jokingly asking her if she was cheating while we were first together was the main catalyst to our first breakup, it wasn’t an accusation so much as what i thought would have her say “oh, ha ha, yes definitely” and move on) i ignored it. after all, i have quite a few apps on my phone i haven’t opened in ages.

after the show i start seeing more of the “she commented on this post” things pop up through Facebook, and it would always be her tagging some other guy in memes. me, being someone who loves memes, didn’t give it much thought at the time. then the memes started being less meme-y and more like things that people tag their S.O.’s in. naturally i grow suspicious but don’t have any concrete evidence that something’s going on. it was because i had no real evidence that i didn’t confront her. a few weeks/however long after the concert, i don’t exactly remember, i send her a message saying that i was concerned about her. not accusatory, nothing of the sort, it was me being concerned about someone who at the time i cared about a great deal. this was when she decided we needed to break up so she could “focus on getting herself help” for what i was assuming were suicidal thoughts.

why was i assuming suicidal thoughts? some time earlier she mentioned that she was in a bad place and that was why i went almost a week with no contact (again, i saw her sharing several posts and commenting back and forth with anyone/everyone who commented on them). i did ask her what was going on then but she didn’t want to talk about it and maybe a week or so later things were back to what could be called normal in this situation. the breakup message was her saying she needed to focus on herself, get her head straight, possibly commit herself to an institution because her thoughts were that troubling. once again, naïve me said “okay, good luck, hope you get what you need” and our relationship was finished. i will admit in that instant i was sad, it hit hard out of nowhere, but like the day after i was back to normal. after all, that whole “relationship” the majority of it was like i didn’t have a girlfriend and was just sending texts/snapchats off into the void, never to get answered. we would end up talking off and on after that on a platonic level only; things like the occasional “how are you doing”. i went back and forth for what felt like too long on whether or not to say something to her mom about what she told me. eventually i decided that i would want someone to say something if it were me talking about potentially committing myself and i sent a very politely worded message to her mom. i got one back saying how she had no idea and would be talking to my ex about it. during one of the last times we talked she told me that it was a shitty thing of me to do and of course after hearing this i felt like an giant asshole for saying anything in the first place. (which yes, it might have been wrong but at the time i did still care about her - even though we weren’t together - and didn’t want anything to happen)

finally, i see through Facebook that she’s in a relationship again. i wouldn’t have thought too much about it if it wasn’t the guy she had been tagging in memes all those months ago. it finally hits me like a goddamn freight train: my suspicions were right. i had been getting blown off because i was being cheated on. it hurt all the much worse because, like i mentioned earlier, i had been scrolling through Facebook and seeing all these memes she was tagging the d-bag in and then the relationship status change. both of these were things that she NEVER did while we were “together”; in fact i felt like i was being kept a secret the whole time. if anyone in our “relationship” was tagging anyone in memes, i was the one tagging her. i hardly ever got so much as a like, and if i got a comment on them it was a cause for celebration. with this other guy, though, there would be comment threads and mutual tagging, pretty much like every other relationship i know of. it was just my luck that i was in the restroom at work absentmindedly scrolling through Facebook like any other night when i saw the relationship status change because i still remember how i froze up when i saw it. eventually i  got the strength back to get up (my legs had since gone numb, that’s how long i had been sitting there), quickly finish the rest of my tasks, and go home to be alone.

i didn’t delete her immediately because i was trying to get the strength up to call her out on her bullshit (for those who don’t know i’m someone who HATES confrontation of any kind: being involved in it, hearing it, anything). i do eventually delete her without saying anything about what happened; but i don’t just unfriend her. i go through all forms of social media and scrub every trace of her out of them. Instagram pics, mentioned Tweets and Facebook posts, she was completely wiped out of and unfriended/unfollowed everywhere.

some time later i get a Facebook friend request from her. i leave it unresponded and move on. some months later, i get another one and because i have a small bunch of them to respond to from people i met at a meet & greet, i unintentionally add her back. i start seeing posts from her in my feed and realize what happened. this gets me upset again and i send a poorly worded message demanding to know why she added me, turns out it’s because she “wanted to know how i was doing”. if she clearly didn’t care before, why would she now? i leave her on read (have to admit, it felt good doing that after it had been done to me so many times) and close the conversation. i did apologize later because i believe that even though i had been done so wrong i didn’t need to stoop to her level. my apology gets more or less shrugged off, and that was the last contact i’ve had with her other than sharing memes that she’s shared herself.

now, it should be noted that she does deal with some form of depression/anxiety issues, because the few times i was at her place i saw the pill bottles. this much i can confirm. what i CAN’T confirm is how much she was using these problems as an excuse. while we were “together” it felt like she was constantly under this dark cloud and that’s why i was getting ignored, but now after the pieces have more or less been put together a lot of those times it was definitely just an excuse not to have any contact with me. and before anyone reads this (if they’ve even read down this far) and slams me in the comments, i deal with occasional waves of depression myself. but, unlike her, i actually talk to people even when all i want to do is curl up in my bed and drink myself into a coma (yes, that is something i’ve thought about doing sometimes. i’ve also had several bouts of intrusive thoughts over my life, and briefly considered self-harming). i felt sick the entire time i was typing this, but at the same time i feel relieved that i’ve finally put this out somewhere - even if nobody will read it. if you did read it, props to you because this was one massive wall of text. and to her - she knows who she is, so i still will not be naming names - if you read this, i (now to you) obviously know what you did and i hope you know that karma will catch up to you. however, as the title says i have forgiven you for my own sake. it's undoubtedly healthier for me than keeping all this hate and negativity bottled up any longer.

[twodatesaweek]

better on paper

a thread of my last two weeks has been a guy i met at a party i didn’t really expect to go to, or at least stay at, for as long as i did. he was tall, dressed like  young professionals newly released into new york often do, in dark jeans and a nice button down. his hair was tousled, curls fell into his eyes, giving him a sort of sheepish posture when he talked, pushing his hair to the side when he smiled -- i saw him watch me when i walked in the door, but i immediately thought to myself: not at all the hunk i had in mind after tripping on psychedelics in france and envisioning my future partner. and also there was a bleary-eyed girl in a purple dress sitting next to him. girlfriend, i thought, then later, sister? as i noticed him leave her to filter around the room and chat with the other guests. by the time he made it to me, i was sure they were just friends, or something like friends. 

people were filtering out, i was just hoping for one last glass of champagne, but i also didn’t want to leave without trying my hand at chatting with the cute boys (including the guy) standing around with the bottle. i wasn’t so interested at first when the guy started speaking to me, and felt a little self-conscious at how aggressive his attention seemed, directed solely on me in a group of people. he was british, his accent thick enough that i had to narrow my focus to make the words out. and i tried to move the conversation around the small group we were standing in but it became impossible after i said i liked ferns and he revealed himself to have studied plants in school -- he began typing into his phone, pulling something up for me to look at. you’re going to want to sit down for this one, he said, guiding me towards a nearby couch. i sat down and we were conspiratorial peeking at his phone screen at an adorable bryophyte that grew like miniature palm trees. we chatted wildly about various realms of the plant kingdom: ferns of the loire valley, moss, books on moss. he leaned in close to me, my face felt red, and i thought about how i’d been working with my soy fermentation project all day.

i feel self conscious that you’re sitting so close to me, i said

oh don’t worry, he responded a little too quickly

no no, i said, seeing that he might have thought i was addressing the closeness of our bodies -- that, i liked. i feel self-conscious, i said, because i probably smell like soy sauce. i’ve been fermenting it at home all day

he laughed. i used to make wine, he said and we were back to chatting like children do, me adjusting myself to sit curled up with my knees on the couch so i could face him to tell him about how there were new moderators of the fern subreddit, he began to tell me how much he loves r/whatisthisplant. the girl in the purple dress suddenly barged in to tell us they were leaving to go to a bar in the city, and i said there was no way i was going to the city. i was a little let down that he’d be going so soon, i could feel, for the first time since E, the desire and the ease of desire that comes when you would just like very much to kiss someone. but i saw that it wasn’t my story that night and turned back around to play with some tarot cards that another party guest had placed in my hands. 

on his way out, the guy got my attention. how will i talk to you, wei? i asked him if he’d like my number and he gave me his phone to plug it in. i asked if he’d be around the following day and he said unfortunately no, that he’d be on his way back to England then. 

--

before i fell asleep, i’d found him on whatsapp and sent him an article i’d written long ago on ferns, not thinking much of it. by the time i woke up, he’d sent me a beautifully composed note about a story regarding fern flowers he’d heard once in estonia. so elegantly romantic, i couldn’t help but feel thrilled.

and yet -- since i’d left the party, a wild suspicion that i’d been gamed. how could we have had so much in common? how could he have been so handsome? how could he have been so immediately interested in me? i fear i have something like truman show delusion, but in particular when it comes to love -- to feel that something so sweet, so coincidental, so romantic, couldn’t be anything but a set up. in my mind that evening, the near certainty that he was a fabulist. i assume he’s the sort of person who can make anyone feel like she’s the only person in the room i said to another guest who asked me what had passed between the two of us, what i thought of him. still, i don’t think it’s ever wrong to be a weary, so long as you aren’t rude. it can be so difficult to tease out your own projections from another person’s!!

it seems too uncanny, then, that it was around this time i realized that the girl in the purple dress from the previous night had been an instagram influencer with an immense following and a habit for trump-like behavior -- lashing out at her ‘enemies’ regulating what her followers commented, deleting anything that was at all critical. i sat aghast, reading through countless posts she’d made in the past week since she’d met him in england and then flown home early to meet him again in nyc. her story started out as a meet cute -- hitting it off at a cafe, spending a night together at his cottage, the wild promise of another night in new york. she wrote in treacly anticipation of his arrival, calling him her lover. even i was at the edge of my seat by the time i arrived at the post where she sat posing in her purple dress with flowers in her hair, hours before bringing her new friend to the party where i’d inevitably meet him.

i was hooked -- reading her write about falling apart after something happened between them that night. i laughed out loud, joking with my friends that i was now in a love triangle with this influencer. hubristically, i assumed that she’d gotten upset that he asked me for my number, and felt a little thrill at having lured him away from her. but as the days passed, the posts she wrote felt more alarming -- that perhaps something non consensual had passed between them.

the guy kept texting me every day -- on whatsapp we chatted warmly about our interests, pacing through the farthest, vaguest reaches of the vast territory that two people might populate together with time and proximity. it can feel so safe to do this without the physicality of another person’s body, to surrender to affection and a belief that the cosmos has encouraged two people to make the seemingly arbitrary decisions that lead them to each other. i tiptoed around it, softening to how hidden it was, how all of it could be seen and interpreted in any way: the morphology of ferns, where we might be in the upcoming months, the ways in which science is attempting to solve the problem of dying. all the while i don’t even know his surname, all i have is a tiny square profile image of his figure, cross-legged on the floor, his face in profile. 

--

by the time the influencer had revealed the guy’s betrayal towards her, i was picking out what to wear for the day, given that i had a date that night with an attorney from a dating app who seemed promising.

she wrote that the guy had asked her to ‘fuck without kissing’ and i felt gut punched and a little defensive. the same guy who kept googling my writing to talk with me about it? it felt unreal, but then again, what did i really know about either of them and the spell was wearing off some. i had become so curious -- as had all my friends, maybe of whom were now following along with the influencer’s retelling romance of which i was inevitably a part. 

before i left for my date, i wrote to the guy and asked what exactly had happened? what had he done to make this poor influencer to inspire her to wage character assassination on him. 

my date, J, was also from tennessee and had made a point to say that he had served as legal aid for migrant workers in the tomato fields of my old hometown. his parents had moved to the south to contribute to the civil rights movement -- his father was a mental health professional, his mother an attorney, too. he’d gone to all the right schools, was working at a white shoe law firm. he picked out a romantic cocktail bar nearby where i’d be taking french class and came down from the city during a torrential downpour. he was sweet and curious about my work when he arrived, a little out of shape but he had a nice face and was tall. 

but after a drink, he started to fall apart, talking to me about his stress and depression from working twelve hour days at his law firm. disclosed that he’d been laid off, that he was on lexapro. you could just...leave I kept suggesting to no avail. he had five drinks over the course of the night, increasingly grew messier and messier until by midnight he was asking me to have a cigarette outside. there was something too familiar about all of this -- me captivated in some whirlwind of talk and fun, without being listened to much, myself. a couple nearby was making out aggressively and i observed that they seemed as though they’d been together for a while. oh i thought it was a first date, J, said, sidling next to me. we kissed a little, and it felt like a relief just to be kissing anyone else but E, but it also felt like being twenty-two and not quite in my body, being somewhere else.

the guy messaged me while J was settling up, and though i was scattered and hazy from drinks my attention immediately shot to it. J came back and I waved him away to read what must have been a 3,000 word explanation of the guy’s side of the story versus the influencer’s. 

--

in the end, i didn’t want to see J again, and i felt that though the influencer had been insane in her depiction of events, the guy was also not entirely innocent of it. peering into the gap between their two tellings of the story, i felt as though i was witness to something of the fearsome mystery i have lately come to know a little bit, through my work in therapy and with psychedelics. there are so many invisible things that should be obvious, as definite as objects, yet they are also so simple to reject -- for your own benefit, or because you really are so oblivious to them. 

i told him twice that i thought he’d been at best stupid and at worst cruel. he defended himself in a way that felt correct, but it’s not my place to really know much besides my own feelings. in the midst of those conversations we also started to chat about his work, attempting to create a company that addresses care for diseases that greatly foreshorten life -- i asked him how he came to it and he mentioned something about having worked as a patent attorney right out of school. 

last week, drunk from tequila with L, i felt mushy and messaged him that hearing about it made me think of my parents, watching them grow older. it also made me think of how reinventing ones life so many times can be such lonely work. you just keep shirking off layers of yourself -- from your perspective, you are letting go and growing past your circumstances. but others are often hurt and confused by it. though it wouldn’t have been out of malice, you have abandoned them certainly. how to stay the balance? how to love those who cease to fulfill your needs, your desires? is it possible to tease apart the two? 

in the morning, i felt embarrassed for having let slip how much i’d considered this -- the real emotional questions i wanted to know about, the things i would like to learn from a partner, speak to them about. at brunch today, a friend suggested that part of my embarrassment must have been derived from my feeling as though I’d crossed a boundary -- that felt right. previous to that last message, we’d been charting territory, outlining topics, but not filling them in with ourselves. my questions about loneliness and desire -- they were really my request for him to begin showing me himself, coloring in the lines. 

he suggested we skype and in my hungover state i responded quickly in the affirmative. but as the week went by i felt stranger and stranger about it. i liked the romance and the fantasy of messaging with this guy -- the affection of a handsome stranger, knowing we were still happy projections for each other. the intimacy of even a phone call risked materializing a kind of relationship with edges and corners, with expectations. now what do i have: a reminder that i am desirable, that i am lovable as myself. how could it do any good to attempt to fill that in, when the object is so far away, only as real as my imagination. i wrote to him yesterday then to say that i didn’t like the idea, that i’d rather stay penpals. “being penpals has been rather sweet,” he said, and we agreed that we would very much like to have drinks if we were ever in the same town again. 

--

it doesn’t escape me, after a long journey though my psyche, that the guy is a version of a relationship that i have always had. at a distance, safe enough for my internal alarm system to be deactivated very slowly. yet i am also seeing that anyone who allows me to take a year to grow comfortable w the idea of intimacy most likely has intimacy issues themselves. or, that has certainly been true now, boyfriend after boyfriend. 

my goal, after E broke up with me, was to investigate my patterns, to attempt to learn once and for all what is happening with me. it has been two months and i have become so much wiser about myself, and yet, i also see how broken i am. i don’t say that as a way to victimize myself, just plainly. it’s a fact about me. i have never had a close friendship that hasn’t sent my brain into mental acrobatics, simultaneously surveying the relationship for phoniness while also building an argument for why i do not need it -- what is the worst case scenario and can i handle it, is what i am preparing for. ‘an insurance policy’ my therapist calls it. it will likely never go away, but i can learn to understand it, to calm it better on my own. i know now that the relationship i want will likely terrify me, it will not feel good. if my friends do not notice my pathological push and pull it is only because i can take time on my own when it happens. 

‘i don’t know why this came to mind, but you know crabs?’ my therapist said to me this week. 

“crabs?” i said.

“yes crabs,” she said. “you know how they walk sideways?’

“kind of,” i said, bemused.

“so they walk sideways on the beach, but they still know which way is forward and they go there.”

“okay,’ i said.

“that’s you. you might move sideways, but you have enough love within you that you know which way is forward. you just have to keep going forward.” 

- W

[nct-oli]

So... where have I been?

Hi friends. First I must say that this isn’t my return to Tumblr. I want to explain where I’ve been and how I’m feeling, but I don’t plan to be very active still on Tumblr in the near future.

So where have I been the last 8-ish weeks? 

The Dominican Republic. I did a teaching internship abroad there for 7 weeks. My wifi for the first few weeks was too slow to even go on Tumblr, and even though I got better wifi about halfway through my trip, I was so content not being on Tumblr that I didn’t bother. I got to practice my limited Spanish, learn about a beautiful culture, meet incredible people, better understand computer science and teaching, and grow as an adult woman. In the beginning, I had panic attacks and cried nearly every night, but by the end, I felt like a completely new person. I threw myself into the deep end with my anxiety, and I didn’t just learn to float; I became a swimmer. If anyone wants to hear more about my experience in the country and with my anxiety, let me know. I’d love to talk about it with anyone who is interested.

Why am I not returning? 

8 weeks ago, I made a post on here saying I needed a break from Tumblr, made a 2-week queue, and logged out/deleted the app from my phone. Guys, let me tell you, I have felt so wonderful these past 2 months. Not just because I have been doing a lot of exploring and self-discovery and stuff, but because I separated myself from unnecessary drama on this site. No, Tumblr is not inherently unhealthy, but I had made it unhealthy for myself. I wanted a reason to be upset, to have somewhere to focus my energy, and I found that on Tumblr... in angry, toxic fandoms. Emmerdale, Shadowhunters, The 100... I was absorbed in so much drama that I just felt horrible all of the time. I’m upset with myself for even letting that happen in the first place, but I’m proud of myself for doing something about it. 

And guess what? I’m remembering what it is like to be a casual viewer of tv shows again. And no, that doesn’t mean I have stopped watching fan videos, reading fanfic etc. I just don’t spend time anymore getting sucked into the fandom drama and the anger. The best example is Emmerdale and the Robron fandom. I spent SO MUCH TIME ranting with people and being upset over that storyline, and especially over Robert’s character. And now, I just watch the show and move on with my day. Do I still think the show is making mistakes? Yes, of course I do. But the difference is that I’m not letting those feelings eat away at me anymore. Because at the end of the day, my Tumblr rants didn’t change the scripts or the filming or anything about the show; it just made me upset.

This isn’t, in any way, me condemning you if you do still partake in those aspects of fandoms or of the general Tumblr site. Do what makes you comfortable and happy! But for me personally, I couldn’t do it anymore. So if, like me, you’re feeling negative or tired or frustrated or stressed over things you’re seeing on Tumblr, I highly suggest taking a break, just to gain some perspective again. It’s so easy to get stuck in the Tumblr wormhole, but stepping out for a while is a great reminder of what matters to you and how you can take care of yourself.

I am not planning to regularly come on this site right now. I may occasionally check my dash for a few minutes, and I’ll probably add some things to a queue every once in a while. But I turned 20 a few weeks ago, I just got a job yesterday, and I have really big mental and physical health goals I want to achieve in these next few months. Unfortunately, Tumblr hinders my ability to focus on those parts of my life. Feel free to message me or put things in my inbox, as I probably will see them. Just don’t feel bad if my responses are not immediate! Love you guys lots. Sorry for all of this, but I hope you understand.

[misssophie23]

THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

I found this old oneshot...I don't know why I haven't posted it on Tumblr before...this is my third try to post it correctly. The Tumblr App sucks rn! So, sorry I am so short on words. I wrote this fic last summer. I hope you enjoy the shameless bellarke smut that is coming for you xD You can also find it on ao3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7938799)

Enjoy :-)

THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

"We are truly sorry for the trouble Miss Griffin."

The stewardess apologized for the third time within two minutes. Bellamy was counting. He didn't look up from his book when the voice of the so called Miss Griffin complained.

"One hour late and then this. I can't believe it. This is the worst airline I've ever flew with!"

"There must have been a technical problem Miss. We are so, so sorry. Please, you can sit first class and you don't have to pay for anything during the flight." "As if I would," retorted the annoyed woman and Bellamy heard how she slumped into the seat right in front of him. The flight attendant put the luggage into the overhead and apologized for the fifth time, getting a huff as a response before she walked away. Bellamy looked after her, watching her disappear behind the curtain between first class and business. When his eyes flew back onto his book he stopped at the woman in front of him, who was – to be quite honest – really pretty. Even with her exhausted and annoyed facial expression. He watched her closely, recognizing the small birthmark above her lip and slightly sweating skin because it had been almost 97 °F today and it was still humid. Just when his eyes were about to go further down he caught himself and put them back onto his book – Pericles of Athens and the birth of Democracy by Donald Kagan. Yeah, he still was the history nerd he had been with eighteen! Bellamy still kept reading, when the stewardess gave the security information a few moments later. He had seen them dozens of times before and was pretty sure how to behave in any case of trouble. The mysterious blonde instead hung on the flight attendant's lips, when he looked up, which made him guess that this was her first flight or she hadn't been on many planes before. An amused smile spread over his lips before going back to reading. It didn't take him long to look up again. The plane was about to start when there was a loud rustle in front of him. The blonde shifted around in her seat, her feet fidgeted nervously up and down, so fast that he could feel it. She bit on her bottom lip and gazed nervously around when she caught him watching her. Bellamy's brows shot up in a silent question and she stopped immediately. "Sorry. Nervous flyer." "Don't tell me," answered Bellamy ironically and turned the book page, but not without checking on the blonde one last time. The woman seemed to relax as the plane reached its flight level. They had been through rain clouds and an airhole which made her gasp and Bellamy tried to ignore that this kind of sound went directly to his guts. He cleared his throat as quietly as possible and tried to keep his eyes focused on the pages while she started to bring down her luggage and pulled some things out. He tried so hard not to watch while she was doing it, that he was thinking about her all the time and re-read one line for the third time when the stewardess approached them, asking if they would like something to drink. "Oh," started the woman in surprise and again Bellamy reminded him not to think about this sound in another specific and very different situation because damn; he didn't know her but she was kind of hot! And he was just a guy. A guy who hadn't had any sex in a long time so he couldn't hold himself and his thoughts back of going … dirty. The heat crawled up his neck while eavesdropping on her order. "Do you have some ice tea? With a lemon slice and mint leaf maybe?" "I'm not sure about the mint leaf but I'll look. What can I bring you Mister Blake?" Addressed the stewardess Bellamy directly and made him look up. He gave her a sweet smile before ordering "The usual. A scotch on ice and a small water with gas please." "Of course," smiled the woman back and Bellamy nodded in thanks. His eyes wandered back to the book, catching the blonde looking at him, which made him smile at her. He flashed her one of his significant smile, which she easily returned before looking back onto her sketchbook. Bellamy kept his eyes on her instead. He didn't want to be the creepy stranger who checked out women on public transportation but he couldn't resist to sneak. Above the stormy clouds the sun was shining right through the small window, making her blonde hair looking like gold. Like she was wearing a halo. Her skin looked even softer. She had rosy cheeks and her lips were captured between her teeth far too often. She didn't notice him watching her. She was too lost in her doings. The blonde crooked her head, eyeing her work before letting her hands fly over the paper, knowing every line she made. Bellamy's eyes wandered along her hands towards her neck, down to her inviting cleavage and - oh Gosh he was such a creep! His eyes were literally glued on the curves of her breasts, making his thoughts race, when the flight attendant reached them, handing them their drinks. Bellamy blushed, even though no one and especially not the blonde herself, had been seeing him. Even though he hoped his nervous smile didn't give him away when the woman in front of him took her drink and sending him a short smile as a toast. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They landed in Chicago, welcomed by lightning, thunder and pouring rain one and a half hours after departing from Nashville. Bellamy just got up as the rest of the passengers and wanted to grab his luggage when the pilot's voice filled the cabin, telling them that they had to remain seated because the airport stopped the check-in for everyone because of the storm. They weren't allowed to leave the plane. A load groan went through the rows and Bellamy dropped back into his seat. The loudest groan seemed to come from the woman in front of him. "They can't be serious. I have a hotel reservation!" She took a look at her watch before stopping one of the stewardesses, "How long do we have to wait in here?" The woman's smile was excusing. "Sadly we can't tell you right now. The pilot has to talk to the manager first. We'll let you know as soon as we have further information. We have to ask you to remain seated until then. I'm sorry." "Awesome," spat the woman sarcastically when the attendant was gone, falling back into her seat. Bellamy watched her before looking out of the window. He could barely see anything. They were in the middle of the tarmac, somewhere, and just the bolts lightened up the darkness. He rubbed his forehead. Gladly he didn't have to get into any hotel but he was awake for more than sixteen hours now. All he wanted was to go to bed. "Well," started Bellamy shortly and turned towards the blonde, "looks like we've got some time to kill. I'm Bellamy." He held out his hand, a charming smile on his lips. The woman returned it immediately and shook his hand – her own couldn't even close around his completely because it was too small – "Clarke." "So, Clarke what brings you to Chicago?" "Wizard World Comic Con," she said proudly and without any hesitation. She got an excited look on her face, returning Bellamy's question onto him. "I live here." "What did you do in Nashville then?" "Visiting my mom. She still lives there. You?" "Oh that's sweet," smiled Clarke and made Bellamy's chest swell a little, "I live there." She smiled but shrugged together as a loud thunder rolled through the air. They both looked outside the window, watching the next lightning appear. "What shitty weather," mumbled Clarke and sighed loudly and Bellamy remembered that she had some kind of trouble before. "You had some problem during boarding?" She rolled her eyes at this, which made him chuckle lowly. "Believe it or not but this fucking airline overbooked the flight. I bought my ticket six months ago and at the counter they told me that I don't have any reservation. Can't you believe that?" Honestly? He could. Most of the airlines did that but he wouldn't dare to tell her. He didn't want to upset her any further. So he just shook his head, "Not really." "Oh yeah! I was so pissed. I still am! I mean, not that the plane was an hour too late, nooo. To make my day even better they decided to delete my booking!" "So usually no first class for you?" "Oh no. I could never afford it. But this seat wasn't taken. So I got it as some kind of reparation. Which seems to be my luck now." She grinned and then winked at him and Bellamy tried not to read too much into it. Maybe she had the same interest in him as he had in her?! Judging by her flirty smile she was flashing him right now – she had! "Blessing in disguise, huh?" "Yupp. And you are a regular on this flight or why does the whole crew seem to know you?" Bellamy chuckled again, "Something like that?" Then he added, "Like I said before, I visit my mom once in awhile. I'll help her at her coffee shop and at the child-care. This time I stayed for almost two weeks. So yeah I'm well known." Clarke lifted her eyebrows, looking clearly interested in him. "So, part-time barista and nanny, huh?" A grin played around her lips. Bellamy blushed a little before nodding, "Somehow, yeah." "And what are you doing when you are here in Chicago?" "I'm working at the CME." "CME?" "Chicago Mercantile Exchange." Clarke still blinked in confusion. "I'm a broker," explained Bellamy and that's when the penny dropped. "Oh, oh of course. Exchange, yeah. Sorry. So you're exchanging what?" "We are trading natural resources. And what about you?" Clarke blushed, "I … I'm still looking for a job for myself. Right now I'm working at my best friend's shop and draw a lot. Nothing really worth living." Bellamy opened his mouth to tell her that he didn't judge her when the stewardess reached them once again, asking if she can get them something to eat. "Why?" Asked Clarke immediately and the attendant shot her another apologetic look. "The airport is still closed. We have to remain in here a little longer." "What? No way! I have a hotel reservation. We have been stuck in here for almost forty minutes. Why can't you just let us go?" "Because it's an order Miss Griffin. We are truly sorry but right now we aren't allowed to open the door. It's for your own safety." "So you'll pay for a new hotel room if I –" "Like I said Miss Griffin, there is nothing we can do. We have to wait until the storm weakens. So to make the waiting as pleasant as possible – can I bring you something to drink or eat?" The blonde woman opened her mouth, probably for another lash out, so that was the moment Bellamy interfered. He smiled gently at the stewardess because she wasn't the one to blame for this situation. No one was. "Would you be so kind to bring us some champagne, please? And maybe a few noshes?" "Absolutely", returned the woman with a thankful smile and disappeared behind the curtain, while Clarke was giving him a dark glance. "You know she had been talking to me right?" "Yeah, but she isn't the one to blame for this situation, so you can keep your shit together and be more kind." Bellamy put Clarke into her place, which made her scoff loudly. "I'm not one of your mother's children!" "Then stop acting like one." Clarke glanced darkly at him before grabbing her phone, getting up and mumbling that she needed to make a phone call. When she disappeared Bellamy punched himself against his forehead. He didn't have any right to talk to Clarke like that. She was upset, just like everyone. It wasn't like she could go home just like him. She had a hotel reservation, which might cause some problems if they got stuck in here much longer. After a few moments the food and drinks were brought to their table before Clarke returned, a pissed look on her face but Bellamy decided to talk to her anyway. "Sorry about earlier," he started but the blonde didn't seem to give a damn about it. Bellamy sighed. "No luck with the hotel?" She grabbed her glass of champagne and emptied it in one gulp. "So I guess that is a no," mumbled Bellamy and took a sip from his own glass. "No. They told me I have to check-in within the next hour. Otherwise my reservation is invalid. And judging by the weather it doesn't look like I'll make it!" She sighed desperately. Bellamy offered her a gentle smile. "I'm sure you'll be fine. There are a few hotels here in Chicago. You'll find another one." "Hopefully one where I can afford a room … otherwise you're stuck with me." The flirty grin was back on her lips. Her brows wiggled and Bellamy looked at her in amused confusion. "Stuck with you?" He questioned. "Oh yeah. I mean you are living here right? Sure you have a room to spare." "Well –" He started before being interrupted. "Or maybe a bed to share," she added cheeky and made Bellamy chuckle. His mind was starting to picture her in his bed already, naked, while he tried to not letting let it show on his face. "What makes you think I have a bed to share?" Fire glinting in her eyes when she answered, almost nonchalant. "No ring on your finger, wearing clothes that are screaming 'I'm a workaholic – which you probably are considering you’re a broker - and don't have time for anything serious' and being all flirty with me for the past hour. It doesn't look like there is someone waiting for you. And I don't take you for the cheating type of guy." Bellamy huffed in surprise. She hit the nail on the head. "Not bad," he admitted. She clearly had good knowledge of human nature. He licked his lips before confirming her suggestions. "You are right. But I'm not sure if I want to share my apartment with a stranger." Of course he would. Especially with someone as hot and interested as Clarke. It wasn't like he never had a one night stand before. Like Clarke said earlier, it was what he was doing all the time. "Stranger?" She echoed in shock. "We have been stuck in here for a little over an hour now. I wouldn't call us strangers anymore Bellamy." A hot shiver ran down his spine right to his cock at the sound of his name. It was the first time she said it and his name never sounded sweeter. He grinned, locking his eyes with hers, feeling the tension building up while they got another glass of champagne. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They got stuck in the plane for three hours in whole. Bellamy learned that Clarke was an only-child. That Wells Jaha was her best friend and that she had a cat named Molly when she was a kid. Her favorite color was green, she got a scar on her right knee because she fell from a horse when she was nine and she was a big fan of The Big Bang Theory and True Bloods which were the main reasons for visiting the convention. In return Bellamy told her about his sister Octavia, his two best friends Murphy (who was a former soldier and now one of the best trauma surgeons in Illinois) and Miller (who worked for the government). They talked about their hobbies when Clarke asked him if he had been on a convention at least once in his life. No need to say that she was shocked when he answered with "No". "And you are a groupie who's stalking her favorites through the whole country?" Asked Bellamy amused and Clarke stuck out her tongue, mumbling a long "noooo" and blushed – again. Bellamy started to like the pink color on her cheeks. Imagine it getting darker and darker with every thrust he deepened himself into her. "So, why are you going then?" "Because I'm a groupie who's chasing her favorites," joked Clarke and added, "And because I’m trying to catch up on the lost time I wasted in a two-year relationship. Now doing what I always wanted to do, you know." "Was it that bad?" Clarke nodded. "Pretty much. But … honestly, I don't want to talk about it." Bellamy just nodded when the pilot was talking through the micro again. "The airport just started the check-in again. There are nineteen other planes with us so we would like you to remain seated until it's our turn. We want to apologize one more time for the trouble and thanking you for your understanding and patience. Have a good further travel and good night." The passengers were clapping loudly and everyone groaned in relief. Bellamy looked at his phone. It was half past one in the morning. Knowing that Clarke's reservation was invalid for a little over an hour. He looked at her, a pained expression on her face. She rubbed her forehead and sighed loudly, clearly thinking about where to head to now. It took them another 30 minutes to get their luggage because of the other nineteen planes' passengers that were waiting for theirs. The baggage claim was more than crowded and Bellamy arched his back and stretched his arms because of the long sitting. He got his suitcase first and waited for Clarke to get hers. She smiled at him in thanks. "So," he started slowly, walking through the exit and glancing at the blonde's profile, "if you want, you can stay at my place tonight." Clarke stopped walking, having big and surprised eyes. "Really?" "Yeah. I mean, you said it before, we aren't complete strangers anymore and you don't look like a murderer or a creepy person to me, even though you are visiting a convention – and I have more than enough room anyway." "Wow, oh wow, that is – thank you. That's so nice." A big smile appeared on her lips. "No problem." His heart definitely didn't jump at her bright smile. Definitely not. Okay, maybe a little. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * They got out of the taxi 40 minutes later. "500 West Superior Street," said the driver and Bellamy gave him a huge tip when he paid before heading after Clarke who stood in front of the building, her head in her neck and looking right to the top. "That's huge." "It's not even the biggest," said Bellamy and got their suitcases out of the trunk before leading her inside a warm, shining marble floored foyer. "Good evening Mister Blake," greeted Harper the receptionist with a kind and professional smile and Bellamy approached his sister's friend to greet her while Clarke stopped in the middle of the foyer, looking around. "Hello Harper. Any mail for me?" "Oh yeah, but your sister got it already." Her eyes flickered towards Clarke for a split of second, a sassy smile starting to appear on her lips when Bellamy's brows shot up immediately. "Don't you dare to tell Octavia or the others," he mumbled, looking over his shoulders before watching the brunette biting down her grin. "I would never," she said and Bellamy's mood went down at the realization that Harper wouldn't listen to him and tell the others that he brought a woman with him anyway. He groaned. "Don't you have discretion or something?" "Am I a lawyer or a doctor?" His head fell down in resignation. "We just got stuck for three hours in the fucking plane and she has nowhere else to go, okay? Please Harper. I know you'll tell them anyway but please wait until tomorrow okay? I can't handle my sister or anyone else tonight." He pleaded, which was a sign that he was god damn serious. He was tired as fuck and he just couldn't handle his sister's euphoric phone calls and the others teasing messages. It seemed like they had a lot of fun talking about Bellamy's love life, especially since it had died down after Gina almost eight months ago. He never had brought anyone with him since then. Not that he hadn't had any sex, he just went to the girl's apartments to avoid a situation like this. Even though the last sex he had was over three months ago. Not that he was planning on hitting on Clarke … not if she didn't want to at least. But that wasn't any other person's business, so he let out a relieved breath when Harper agreed on staying silent. "Thanks." "Yeah, just for tonight Blake. Your sister will find out anyway." Bellamy rolled his eyes and returned to Clarke, leading her to the elevator. His hand on the small of her back when he pushed her gently into it. Ignoring the heat rushing through his arm into his stomach because of the feeling of her body under his palm. He looked over his shoulder, catching Harper watching them with a bright, knowing grin. He stopped himself from groaning and pushed the button 28 instead. "Living above the others, huh?" "I like being on the top," winked Bellamy mischievously and clearly ambiguously. "Too bad I like it too." Bellamy grinned and licked his lips slowly, knowing Clarke's eyes watching his movement. His eyes flashed over her face and he heard her breath starting to deepen. Her cheeks were still pink, little from the champagne and much more because of the look he was giving her, when the elevator came to a stop and opened with a ping. They stepped out into a corridor which lead to one door. "Is this the corridor to the door of the Department of Mysteries?" Chuckled Clarke and Bellamy stopped fishing his keys out of his pocket, a frown on his face. "What?" Clarke's feature slipped. "Department of Mysteries. Harry Potter? Oh, oh my God! Don't tell me you never saw Harry Potter?!" Bellamy felt his ears turning red. "Well," he started but Clarke gasped in shock. "You can't be serious. What kind of life are you living? No conventions, no Harry Potter?!" Said Clarke like his inexperience was personally offending her. "I saw Harry Potter," defended Bellamy himself, "like – eleven years ago or something?" It didn't make it any better. "Eleven years? So you've only seen the first four movies!" "Does this make me a bad person now or …?" "No, but kind of weird." Bellamy scoffed, "Oh this coming from you." "What? Do you think I'm weird?" He bit his tongue before saying anything too bad. Instead he asked, "Do you want to come in or not?" He slit the key into the lock and opened the door, while Clarke mumbled, "Says the guy who reads a history book for fun." Bellamy decided to ignore the comment and stepped inside, hearing Clarke following him, he switched on the light and a "Holy fucking shit" slipped out of Clarke's mouth. This time Bellamy couldn't hold back a grin. He closed the door, watching in complete satisfaction while Clarke's widened eyes flew through the big room, over the wooden floor and back to him. "Oh my fucking God! Are you kidding me? This, this is your apartment?" "Penthouse," corrected Bellamy the blonde, amused and hung his jacket aside before leading her to the open kitchen. "Penthouse?! Who are you – Richard Gere? Because I definitely feel like Julia Roberts right now. You have seen Pretty Woman, right? Oh God…" She turned around, taking in her surroundings, still in disbelief and shock. "Of course I've seen Pretty Woman," retorted Bellamy, leaning against a kitchen counter, while Clarke was standing in the middle of the big living area, letting her eyes fly over the windows, looking right outside into the city. "I fucking can't believe it," she breathed, "This living room is bigger than my whole apartment." Her hands wandered over the couch. "How much square footage do you have?" She came closer, eyeing the kitchen made out of cherry wood. "Almost 5,000 –" "5,000 square feet?!" Shrieked Clarke with a high pitched voice and causing pain in Bellamy's ears. "For you? This – God! How much do you pay for this?" Normally Bellamy wouldn't tell. Not only because you didn't talk about money but also, and this was the more important reason, he didn't want to give her a heart attack. He licked his lips, rubbing his neck like he was ashamed and answered anyway, "Around $10,000." To his own surprise Clarke stayed quiet. She blinked. Then, "What? $10,000 per month?" "That's how you usually pay rent, yes." "What the he- $10,000 for a place to live? Are you sure you aren't trading drugs on the exchange?" That made Bellamy chuckle. "I'm positive yeah." She huffed before shaking her head. "This is too much, really. I have to sit down." She hopped onto the stool at the kitchen island and was still shaking her head. Bellamy eyed her in amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching Clarke rake her hand through her blonde hair, made him imagine that it would be his own doing that. His eyes dropped down, feeling his throat going dry when they reached her breasts, so he cleared it, turning towards the fridge. "Want something to drink?" "I thought you haven't been home the last two weeks." "I haven't. But I'm sure my sister filled up the fridge after taking this place over, so – what do you want?" "Uhm, I don't know. A water?" Bellamy looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows scooting up. "Seriously? Just water? No lemon slice or mint leaf?" He teased and earned himself a stuck out tongue from Clarke. "Well, what can you offer then?" He turned around and overviewed the drinks. "Almost everything. Wine, champagne, water, juice, ice tea –" "Ice tea!" Bellamy grinned. "Okay, it's ice tea then." He grabbed the can and poured her a drink. "Want some cubes?" Clarke shook her head, "No thank you." He smiled shortly. She did the same. Bellamy took a sip, never letting go of Clarke's eyes while she was doing the same. Which made him gulp even harder. When Clarke put down the glass she licked her lips, making Bellamy tightening his grip around the glass. "So Bellamy Blake, what's your story?" She asked interested, leaning forward and giving him an excellent view into her cleavage. It took all his willpower not to look at it (for too long). "My story?" "Yeah … I mean, this is huge and it looks like it's all normal to you. But on the other hand you are visiting your mother and helping her out in her coffee shop, so – what's your story?" "Okay, well, it's not much. My sister and I were raised by my mother. We had less than $800 each month, sometimes even less. So I started working at 16. After finishing school I signed up for the army because of the good money. Then mom started dating a guy named Marcus Kane. He is a pretty good man. One she deserves. I was twenty-four back then. I resigned and started to go to school. Finance. Got a job at Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago for a year and have been working at the exchange for three years now. That's my story." "That's it? You are working at the exchange and can afford something like this?" "What should I say – I'm pretty good at what I do." He winked and a mischievous grin spread over her lips. "I bet you are." Clarke said "But seriously – how much do you earn with this?" Bellamy licked his lips, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "Okay, okay, I´ll change the question. What was your biggest win and your biggest lost?" "Ufff … the biggest lost was, I don't know, $50,000?" Her eyes widened again but she remained quiet, mouthing $50,000 silently. "And my biggest win. It was about $80,000." "Okay I have to ask you again – how much do you earn? This is unbelievable!" "Between $18,000 and $30,000." "Per month?" Bellamy nodded, causing Clarke to knock back the rest of her drink at once. That was when he asked her about her story. She had been interrogating him like an FBI agent, so it was only fair to tell him at least as much. Clarke started to blush again and yeah, he definitely liked it. "Well," she wet her lips – not that he kept watching her lips, no -, "my story is quite the opposite. My mother is a CEO of a hospital in Washington and my dad worked for the NSA. So, I'm from Washington D.C. My, uhm, my dad died eight years ago, turning mine and my mom's world upside down. He died of cancer and it was a really rough time for both of us. I fought with my mother almost every day and it was pretty bad. But, time heals wounds right? We started to get better but I couldn't stay in D.C. any longer and started to travel through the USA. For the past two years I’ve been living with my best friend Wells and his fiancée Luna in Nashville. He moved there almost three years ago because of Luna and yeah. I never studied, even though I always wanted to. But when my dad died … I don't know. It changed everything. I still don't know what I want to do, which is kind of embarrassing because I'm 29 now and, well … I'm still looking for the right, for the perfect job you know? I'm fine with working for Wells but it's nothing I want to do forever. But I also don't want my mother's money, which she always offers me anyway. I mean, I don't need a fortune for living. I just want to do something I love and be happy. No offense." She added quickly and Bellamy waved her off, smiling. "It's okay. I mean isn't that what we all want to do? A job that makes us happy? A life that makes us happy?" "Yeah," breathed Clarke and let her eyes wandering to the window again. She sighed. "That would be great to find." He scanned her profile, watching her teeth burying into her bottom lip. His eyes wandered over her rosy cheeks, along her neck and back to the breasts. He bit his inner cheek, feeling his blood running lower into his pants and the heat upon his neck. So he finished his glass of ice tea and looked at the clock. It was almost three a.m. He rubbed his eyes, tiredness hitting him out of nowhere and he suppressed a yawn. "When do you have to get up?" He asked and put their empty glasses into the sink. Clarke scooted out of her thoughts and frowned, thinking. "Uhm, I don't know. I have to be at the convention around 9. How long is it to the Hilton Chicago?" "10 to 15 minutes car drive. Almost half an hour if you take the metro, brown line and purple one," told Bellamy and added, "But at that time it doesn't make a difference if you take a taxi or the metro." Clarke chewed on her lip, nodding slowly. "Okay, then I'll have to get up a little before eight I guess. You?" "In almost three hours?" "This early?" "Yeah, I promised Octavia I’d help her with her thesis before heading to work, so – three hours." Clarke grimaced and shuddered. "Then we have to get you into bed I guess." Bellamy chuckled, "Wouldn't mind some hours of sleep to be honest." That was when Clarke hopped off the stool, Bellamy truly tried not to look at her bouncing breasts, and told him to show her her sleeping place. They didn't even get out of the living area when she asked him amusingly, "Is there a forbidden corridor or room? You know, just like in the Beauty and the Beast?" Again her words curled his lips into a smile. What a nerd she was, he liked it. More than he should because they only knew each other for a few hours. "Even if I had, I'm sure you wouldn't listen. Just like Belle," he answered and Clarke punched him lightly into the shoulder. "Wow, at least you have seen the Beauty and the Beast. I'm impressed." He looked over his shoulder, his brow's disappeared behind his curls, "I have seen every Disney classic at least four times, okay? Just because I haven't seen Harry Potter doesn't mean I don't have any knowledge in films." Clarke grinned as an answer, just like Octavia used to when she was eight. Bellamy shook his head at this memory and went along the floor in silence. "So, here is the bath- Clarke?" He turned around, Clarke had disappeared. "Clarke?" Shouted Bellamy and looked around. Where the hell had she disappeared? He went back a little and a heavy gust waved through his hair. He knew immediately where she was. She'd found the terrace. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Clarke facing the city lights, her hands onto the railing. The raining had stopped but was still in the air. He heard her taking a deep breath. His arms were crossed over his chest and he bit his inner cheek, while watching her. "Enjoying the view?" Clarke chuckled, looking over her shoulder when she told him, "I really do hate you Bellamy." "Thanks. I appreciate it." She rolled her eyes, turning back to the view. "This is unbelievable. The view is amazing." She mumbled, sounding like she was getting lost into it. Just like Bellamy got lost in watching her. "It really is," retorted Bellamy but instead of watching the lightened skyscrapers his eyes were laid down on her blonde curls and the deliciously looking curves which were hid under all these clothes. He licked his lips in hunger, before her question made him look up again. "So is this your strategy of seduction? Bringing the girls up here and then show them this monster terrace with this kill-worthing view?" "If my charm isn't enough, maybe?!" She grinned over her shoulders. "Does it work?" He asked interested. He grabbed his heart in played disappointment and hurt when she shook her head, "Absolutely not." "Damn," sighed Bellamy and made Clarke laugh. It echoed in his ears and in his head, making his heart beat faster, running through his whole body because it sounded like the voice of an angel. He grinned proudly, wanting to make her laugh again. The wind increased, so after a few more moments Clarke turned around and pushed past him. When she did, she was much closer than she had to be. Her breasts almost touching his chest and the small grin on her face told Bellamy that she did it on purpose. When he showed Clarke the bathroom for a second time she was right there to let out a soft "Wow", going inside and taking a long look. The bathroom was huge, had a shower and a bathtub in it and –"Is this a flat screen?" She pointed at the switched off TV on the opposite wall (right in front of the tub). "No, it's the queen's magical mirror from Snow White," teased Bellamy because it was her own fault, claiming he didn't know anything about movies. “Will you ever stop?" Bellamy shook his head. “Nope.” She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I know you know something about movies.” He grinned. "If you want to take a shower tomorrow, the towels are in there." He pointed at the cabinet next to Clarke, who nodded shortly before the big mosaic picture caught her attention. While Clarke was scanning the wall, Bellamy couldn't help himself but watching the blonde's figure one more time. His eyes trailed up and down, making his jeans get tighter. He appreciated every inch of her body. The curvy legs and hips, the amazing breasts and when his eyes went up her neck towards her face he noticed through the mirror that Clarke had been watching him, watching her. He swallowed, feeling his cheeks heating up because she caught him checking her out! But judging by the fierce look she was giving him she didn't care. Quite the opposite – she was checking him out through the mirror, licking and biting her bottom lip when her eyes lingered over his forearms, causing his erection to become more visible. Moments of silence passed by. Moments in which their eyes lingered on one another, none of them saying or doing anything. Not until Clarke faced him, leaning against the marbled basin, pushing her breasts out, more than necessary, making it impossible for him not to look at it. So his eyes slipped to her cleavage for two seconds before reminding himself of look into her eyes but it was too late. She had a knowing grin on her lips, "Liking what you see?" His throat was dry, so he swallowed hard, not wanting to give away too much but knowing it was too late when he heard his raspy voice telling her, "Maybe." Clarke tipped her head down, almost shyly, then she looked back at him, right into his eyes. She started chewing on her bottom lip again, driving Bellamy wild because that was all he wanted to do himself, capture her lip between his teeth, sucking and making her moan his name. Without noticing Bellamy stepped closer, his eyes raked over her body while she crooked her head, studying him. He stopped an arm length in front of her, hearing her raked breath. His heart pumped wildly in its ribcage. "What would you do if I told you that the terrace might have worked?" Asked the blonde in a husky whisper, pitching his stomach because he could hear the want and lust in it. He licked his lips, his eyes shooting from hers to her lips, lingering there far too long. He put one hand on the basin, starting to cage her between him and the marble. "I don't know. Wouldn't speak for me right?" He answered lowly; setting the other hand on Clarke's other side and captured her, stepping closer. They were only a few inches apart. So close that their chests almost touched each other during their deep breathing. She bit down on her bottom lip, a little heavier than before, making him groan almost loudly, while looking up into his eyes. He started to drown into the blue, when her hands slowly moved over his chest, causing more heat. He felt her fingers wandering over his shoulders, clapping together behind his neck and started playing with the nape of it. "That's true," she mumbled, never letting go of his eyes. "So, what would you do if I told you that your charm might have worked?" "Well then," Bellamy started and closed the remaining space between them, having her body flush against his, letting his hands scoop towards her hips and to the small of her back, making her shudder a little. "I would probably," his hand lifted her shirt a little, just as much as his hand could slip under it, touching her skin, "just touch you here." His spread palm wandered to the small of her back, pushing her closer. "And then what?" Asked Clarke anticipating and eager, letting her own hand disappear into the mop of his hair, scratching her nails over his scalp, getting a deep sound out of the back of his throat. "Then I would probably kiss you." Her eyes shined with fire and lust, dropping to his lips when he remained still. His gaze flickering between the blue of her eyes and the red of her lips. "What the hell are you waiting for then?" She edged him on. Bellamy's jaw clenched, breathing heavily through his nose and almost choking when Clarke pushed hard against his pelvis. Yeah, what the hell was he waiting for? She couldn't be more obvious that she was okay with all this. She pushed herself against him, hardening her grab around his neck, almost throwing her breasts into his face, watching him with the biggest eyes he’d have ever seen, smirking in anticipation. Lingering for more. But he was Bellamy, so he couldn't just go for it. Instead he asked, "Are you sure?" That made Clarke roll her eyes and groan in annoyance. "Just go for it Blake. We both know we want to know how I sound like screaming your god damn name." Her voice was rough, eyes dark and mischievous. She leaned forward, their lips almost touching when she mumbled, "Make me scream your name." That was what broke Bellamy out of his stillness. He groaned loudly, her words making his dick throb harder in his jeans and he closed the last inch between their lips. Crashing his own hard on hers. She moaned immediately into his mouth, pulling him closer, sliding her foot over his leg before he grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and sitting her down onto the basin. He felt her feet lock behind him, pushing him further against her center, causing him to moan when his erection pushed hard against her body. Bellamy's hand raked over Clarke's side, cradling her face and letting his fingertips grab her blonde curls. His tongue licked along her lips and the second he felt her mouth open he scooted his tongue inside, earning himself a deliciously sounding groan out of the back of Clarke's throat when his tongue hit hers. He started feeling dizzy, getting out of breath and the almost painful pressure in his jeans didn't help either. His left hand wandered down, over Clarke's shoulder towards her breast, grabbing it with his palm, squeezing it hard and making Clarke saying his name out of breath for the first time. Heat was taking over his body and he lunged forward, deepening the kiss, pressing his hand harder against her breast, feeling her fingernails sinking into his shoulders, right through his shirt. She pushed her pelvis against his, both moaned impatient. That was when Bellamy pulled away, watching Clarke's dark eyes, her swollen lips. Their foreheads touched each other and he heard her raked breathing while palming her breast, which she returned in pushing as hard as she could against his cock. They started panting. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. Clarke bit her bottom lip, cheeks turning into a deep red. Bellamy shot forward, capturing her bottom lip between his, sucking hard and letting his hands raise her shirt. She helped him get it off and his eyes lingered over the freed cleavage, wanting to see more. Wanting more he could touch. But first he put his lips onto her jaw, peppered it with hot open-mouthed kisses, along her neck. He started to bite and suck at is until she groaned loudly, echoing in the bathroom. "Fuck," she hissed and shoved the few strands of hair out of her face, arching her back against him while Bellamy's mouth wandered over the curves of her breasts. His finger pushed the cup of the bra aside so he could take her nipple into his mouth, moaning at the feeling of it against his tongue. His hands gripped her hips hard, sucking at the soft spot of hers, feeling her shuddering underneath him. Clarke's left hand leaned against the wall, knocking down his aftershave and the toothpaste when his teeth buried into her nipple, causing her to yell in lust. A smile appeared on Bellamy's lips because it truly was one of the best sounds he ever heard. Clarke's right hand raked towards his belt, pulling him closer at first but then fumbling with the buckle. Her nails scratching right into his skin above it, making his erection grow harder. He let go of her breast, kissing his way upwards to her lips, pushing his tongue against hers again before feeling her hands on the hem of his shirt. She didn't have to say anything, with one swift movement the shirt was out and Bellamy unclasped her bra, throwing it away. He groaned loudly when her heavy breasts bumped down, her nipples as hard as his crook. "Fuck," he muttered and swallowed. "Fuck Clarke," he started but she lunged forward and pulled him into a fucking delicious and promising kiss. His hands tangled back to her hair, while hers scratched over his skin, making him hiss in pain because her nails burrowed into him. She panted against his mouth, letting her lips wander along his jaw, towards his ear and biting into his earlobe, making his grip harder. Her open mouthed went along his neck and Bellamy pushed her hair away, giving her neck the same treatment. When she started to bite, so did he. When she licked at his skin, he did the same. He also pushed his erection right against her when she pushed up against him. They both moaned loudly, open mouthed. "Bed," whispered Clarke pleadingly and her voice was rough, almost broken. Bellamy swallowed, nodding hastily. "Yeah." He grabbed her thighs and pulled her up, leading her into his bedroom which had a big window in the front (with an excellent view on the city as well, but it seemed like Clarke didn't really care about it this time). He let her down on the mattress, crawling above her, pushing her down and kissing along her neck. Her fingers lingered through his curly hair, her moaning driving him wild. He braced himself with one arm next to Clarke's head while his other hand palming her chest, making her back arch hard against him. She threw her legs around him, pushing him down and swallowed his loud moan with a long kiss. It took them almost forever to get at each other's pants. Clarke was the first. Her fingers unbuckled his belt after playing with it and teasing him almost to death. Her feet pushed the jeans down and he sighed in relief when at least the heavy jeans were off of his cock. He let his tongue slip around Clarke's neck, taking her earlobe right into his mouth before groaning loudly, panting, when he felt her hands pressing over the fabric of his briefs. He heard her chuckle at that and bit down a little harder, making her gasp again. Then it was him who took off her pants, along with her underwear, though her protests. "Hey," she yelled but stopped immediately when his palm rubbed over her inner thigh. Bellamy licked his lips, leaning down again, kissing Clarke and letting his hand wander up and down her thigh but never touching her where she wanted him to. He was teasing her, on purpose. "Bellamy," panted Clarke warningly and making his eyes glint in amusement. "What?" "Stop teasing." He smirked, putting his lips closely to her left ear, mumbling a rough "I haven't even started". She was about to complain when his fingertips brushed her pussy just so lightly, nothing more like a feather. But it was enough to make her gulp her breath. He grinned and did it again, educing a long "Oh" out of her. He licked his lips, feeling the heat inside his body watching her falling apart underneath him, without him doing anything but touching her feather lightly, turned him on even more. "Oh?" He repeated and let his teeth scratch over the skin of her neck, while her fingers clutched into the blanket. "Didn't you say you wanted to scream my name?" His finger hovered over her entrance, waiting for her to say it. But instead she opened her eyes, looking at him when she challenged him, "Make me." "Nothing easier than this," gave Bellamy back and Clarke tensed all along when he pressed his finger against her clit, rubbing it slowly. She bit down her bottom lip, like she was holding herself back from saying his name. Bellamy grinned, putting more effort into his doing, pushing a little harder and getting another "Oh" out of her mouth. "Come on Clarke. Say it, say my name like you wanted to", said Bellamy with his deep and husky voice, his throat going dry again. She bit down on her lip again, a grin spreading over her face. Which made Bellamy almost chuckle. That's when he stopped rubbing at her clit, waiting a few seconds for Clarke, frowning and looking up in question when he pushed his finger inside of her without any warning. Her jaw dropped and a loud, a very loud "Oh God!" filled the room. He felt her wetness around his finger, making him almost get off immediately. He cranked his finger up, pushing harder and making her walls tightened around it. He grunted, burying his face into her neck, telling himself not to move faster because it felt too good. He added another finger, kissing her neck and taking her nipples back between his teeth. He licked at her, making her shudder and then a loud and almost desperate "Bellamy," fell from her lips when he added a third finger, thrusting hard into her pussy. Her nails sank into his skin so hard that he knew that the lines would still be there tomorrow. Her walls tightened around his finger when he moved faster, unable to stop himself because her panting, her little "Oh God" and "Yeah, faster, please" making him want to fell over the edge. So he didn't stop. He pushed harder, faster and swallowing her moan when she came with his mouth, getting goose bumps by feeling her closing around his fingers. Her jaw clenched and her eyes were shut down when she came down from her orgasm. She swallowed hard and Bellamy smiled, peppering her neck with soft kisses. But instead of waiting for her to calm down he dropped his mouth down her body, over her chest and her stomach, settling right between her legs. A mischievous grin played on his mouth when he looked upwards, watching her biting on her bottom lip, clearly not ready for another round. "Just give me a sec," she mumbled. "I just can't –" "Don't worry, I'll make you," promised Bellamy and turned towards her hot and rosy spot. His eyes lingered over her pussy, he licked his lips in anticipation and couldn't wait to taste her with his mouth. "No, Bellamy, really I – oooh!" He had put his mouth onto her, starting with one soft and long stroke. Her legs quivered at the contact, while her hip pushed itself against him. He held her still with his hands, hearing her panting. He took his time before licking her again, then his teeth scratched the inside of her vulva. "Oh God" Her hands wandered over her stomach right into his hair, tugging and scratching, making him moan against her. The vibration made Clarke sigh his name in return. He let his tongue move over her clit again and again, starting to suck at it. Her panting getting louder and louder, mixing "Oh God" with "Bellamy" more often and the sound of it reaching right to his cock which was still trapped in his briefs. Clarke's body started to shake, she was getting closer. Bellamy sucked harder, pushing his tongue against her pussy and moaning at the sweet sound of his name. His thumb slipped over her clit, rubbing hard circles against it, sucking and licking her as fast and hard as he could, feeling him getting thicker and thicker. Clarke shaking underneath him, tugging at his hair with one hand and grabbing the headboard hard with the other, screaming a loud "Bell…" before falling over the edge. His heart sped like hell, the throbbing in his briefs was almost too painful at this stage. He swallowed hard, gulping for air as well before crawling upwards Clarke's body, kissing her. Making her taste herself on his tongue. "Oh God," she whispered when she shoved him away because she clearly hadn't her breath under control again. She swallowed, wiping the sweat from her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut before looking at him. Her cheeks red like hell, her neck and chest flushed from the orgasms he had given her, which filled him with satisfaction. "I really hate you," she breathed Bellamy grinned. "You already said that." He rolled over to his side, bracing himself at his forearm and running his other hand softly over Clarke's skin. They remained silent for a short time, just eyeing and smiling at each other. Then Clarke started biting down on her bottom lip again and Bellamy scooted down pulling it between his own, wanting to make this kiss kind of unchaste and almost innocent but Clarke clearly didn't share his attention and slipped her hand into his hand before lingering for his tongue, wanting it to follow hers. A soft smile spread over Bellamy's lips when he cradled himself above Clarke again, still keeping his mouth on hers when he felt her fingers wandering down to his ass, pulling down his underwear. It was a curse and a blessing at the same time when she took the briefs off and his cock was released. It pumped back hard against him and when Clarke pushed her hip a little upwards she touched the head of his dick with her hot and still wet vadge. A muffled sound left Bellamy's mouth at that contact and he cursed a low "Fucking shit" when Clarke did it again. Bellamy swallowed, feeling the heat crawling through his body and resisted the urge to just push into her, hard and deep. He had to close his eyes for a second to muster all his strength before looking down into the big blue eyes and the almost dirty smirk of Clarke's. He wet his lips, feeling her foot wandering over his ass, ready to push him down. "C-Condom first," he cracked and reached for the cupboard to get one out. He just grabbed one when Clarke's fingers closed around him and pumped it slowly up and down. "Oh shit!" Shouted Bellamy and groaned loudly, trying to get back as fast as he could. But Clarke didn't stop, making his penis pulsing dangerously fast. "Clarke…" His voice broke away and he gritted through his teeth, "You should stop. O-o-otherwise, oh fuck!" He put his hand around her small wrist, making her stop pumping, holding the condom in the other hand and taking a few deep breaths before telling her, "You should stop if you want me to go any further." Clarke licked her lips, so slowly that it was almost enough to bring him over the edge for good. "Okay." She pulled her hand away from his dick and let her fingers wander over his chest and his arms, right to his shoulders when he pulled on the condom and settled himself above her. He put his forearms besides her head, lowering himself down and entered. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, their eyes were closed when he got deeper and deeper. Inch for inch. Both panting, moaning before Bellamy pulled her into a sweet kiss. He let his mouth caress her lips, slipping his tongue softly against hers, pulling out of her completely, waiting and thrusting back inside as slowly as before. Her fingernails scratched his skin lightly, legs crossing over his ass, meeting him in his thrusts. He sucked at her bottom lip before kissing her jaw once more, petting her neck and feeling the heat increasing again. Her legs tightened, pulling him closer and keeping him in place. His thrusts didn't leave her anymore. He braced himself harder against the mattress, letting his right hand wander down over her breast to her leg, adjusting it a little higher so he could thrust deeper into her. His lips and teeth along her soft skin on her neck and shoulder. With the new angle they both panted faster, moaned louder and Bellamy quickened up at his pace. He bit down at her skin, slinging one arm underneath her back to hold her into place when he buried himself deeper and harder into her. The left had grabbed the headboard. "Fuck Clarke, I- I can't hold off any longer," mumbled Bellamy with all strength he still had, sweat covering his body. "You don't have – just – oh, okay – just harder, harder Bellamy!" She winced, her legs closing around him completely and her hands clutching onto him like a lifeline. He licked his lips, watching Clarke closing her eyes, her face getting redder and her mouth forming loud and silent "Ohs". He paced up one more time, thrusting so hard into her that the bed started to shake. The headboard slammed against the wall and if Bellamy wasn't about to come he would have worried about the bed braking but right now he couldn't care less. He held Clarke as close as he could, feeling her walls shutting down around him, screaming his name like a prayer, like a salvation when he felt his dick pulsing hot and fast. He panted into her neck, thrusting deeper and deeper. Groaning a "fuck Clarke" before following her over the edge. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The piercing sound of his alarm woke him mercilessly out of his sleep. With a moan Bellamy switched it off, eyes still closed and his sleep-drunken body fought against waking up. He felt hungover, even though he hadn't been drinking (that much) yesterday. Bellamy breathed heavily through his nose, pressing the ball of his hands into his closed eyes before forcing himself to open them. He yawned and started to stretch when he looked to his side, facing the sleeping figure of Clarke's back. Her blonde curls fell over her back, which was barely covered with a blanket. His eyes scooted down to where it disappeared, feeling his cock throbbing again, more in lust than because of the morning erection. He couldn't help himself but smile a little, cursing his promise to Octavia because otherwise he could have remained in bed, pulling the woman closer and maybe, just maybe, going for another round. He stayed still for a few seconds before forcing himself out of bed. Before heading to the bathroom he looked over his shoulder, making sure Clarke was still asleep. After a quick shower, which made his muscles relax a little, he went back to the bedroom, finding Clarke on his side of the bed now, burying herself deep into the pillow. The man started to smile at this picture and tiptoed to the drawer, getting dressed before leaving a short note on the cupboard. If you need a place to crash tonight, call me. 773-555-8955 Bellamy He resisted the urge to bend down to give her a peck. It was way too crazy anyway, he didn't have to make it weirder than it already was. So he got out of the bedroom, but not without checking on Clarke one more time, taking her in, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he laid his eyes on her and closed the door. He grabbed his bag and his cell phone which he forgot in his jacket last night and groaned loudly when he saw the four missed calls from Octavia and the 30 messages in their group chat. Harper [2:54 a.m.]: I can't keep it to myself any longer. Sorry Bellamy. Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: What?! oO Harper [2:55 a.m.]: He brought a girl home. Miller [2:55 a.m.]: Are you sure?! Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: o_O O [2:56 a.m.]: OMG! Don't screw us Harper! Harper [2:56 a.m.]: I'm not. It was a blonde beauty. He said they got stuck in the plane for three hours and she had no place to go. Jasper [2:56 a.m.]: Still: o_O O [2:57 a.m.]: Blonde beauty huh? That's new. Monty [2:58 a.m.]: Thanks to you Jasper is dancing and singing and I'm awake now! -.- Miller [2:58 a.m.]: What a gentleman… Harper [2:59 a.m.]: Sorry Monty **hug** Jasper [3:00 a.m.]: I'm just happy for my friend Bellamy! O [3:01 a.m.]: It's still weird that you are dancing Jas! Do you have a picture of her Harper? Harper [3:01 a.m.]: :-/ No, sorry Raven [3:21 a.m.]: He brought a girl home? Can't believe it! Murphy [3:24 a.m.]: You can't? Well then come over. I really hate living above you Bellamy! O [3:24 a.m.]: Try to live with him in the same four walls for almost fourteen years! Harper [3:25 a.m.]: Should I call him and tell him that there is a complaint? xD Raven [3:25 a.m.]: He won't hear it. When Bellamy is doing what he is doing he is doing it pretty good. O [3:26 a.m.]: Urgh, Raven! It's my brother! Raven [3:26 a.m.]: xDDD Murphy [3:27 a.m.]: He doesn´t have to be this loud. Seriously, I can hear almost everything! I'm scared that they are going to crush through the ceiling any moment! Miller [3:28 a.m.]: No comment needed! Jasper [3:30 a.m.]: He needs to let off a lot of pressure considering Gina happened almost eight months ago. O [3:31 a.m.]: Ok, I'm out now. I don't really want to think about my brother's dick! Monty [3:32 a.m.]: **rofl** Murphy [3:59 a.m.]: Round three … fuck you Blake! Jasper [4:01 a.m.]: I think the mysterious blonde is already doing that. Murphy [4:02 a.m.]: Shut up Jasper! That's when the conversation ended. Bellamy groaned, rubbing his forehead and decided that it would be better not to say anything. So he slipped his phone back into his jacket and went outside. Regretting his promise to Octavia even more. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It had been a long day when Bellamy returned to the complex. He was still tired, hadn't slept more than two hours last night and more than disappointed because he had been watching his cell phone all day and Clarke didn't contact him. No call, no message from an unknown number. Instead he had to deal with his annoying sister and his friends, getting a sermon from Murphy about keeping it quiet the next time otherwise he would have to kill him and some other, really unimportant things. He leaned against the elevators wall, his head against the metal and a loud sigh escaping his mouth, eyes shot. It was weird. He shouldn't be as disappointed as he was just because a woman he just had known for a few hours (and he had amazing sex with) didn't call him. It was a one night stand. Nothing more. It wasn't that he wasn't used to it. It was what he was doing for a long time now, but … he still felt disappointed. With a ping the door opened and Bellamy stepped into the corridor, fumbling his keys out of his pocket without looking up. A smile curled around his lips, hearing her voice in his head when she had asked him last night if this was the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. He chuckled and shook his head, looking up and froze dead in his tracks. There she was, the blonde beauty, leaning against the wall with a shy smile on her face. "Hey." "Hey," retorted Bellamy and felt his lips curled up. He came closer, still processing that she was standing in front of his door, clearly waiting for him. "How was your day?" She asked almost nonchalant and Bellamy shrugged, "Okay … how was the con?" "Okay," answered Clarke softly. He looked into her eyes, feeling how he was getting lost. He raised his hand, putting it gently against her cheek, caressing his thumb over the soft skin before asking quietly, "Only okay?" She nodded, biting her lip shortly before whispering, "Yeah … had to think about you all the time. Which was pretty distracting." "Don't tell me," he huffed and then leaned down, pulling her into a sweet, chaste and pretty long, slowly kiss, He felt her arms closing around his neck, pulling herself against him and while his right hand cradled deeper into her hair, his left arm slung around her waist. Both started smiling and Bellamy knew that this wouldn't be the last time he would find Clarke Griffin waiting for him at his door.

[smallalison-archive]

hey folks! a lil update. . .

here’s what’s been goin on:

not being on tumblr was awesome. i suggest y’all try it, even just for 3 days or a week. cool shit happens; u just gotta be introspective and observant to notice. u’ll have wild vivid dreams. very cool.

i got into one of my top colleges (and will be interviewing for their honor program in february) and finished all of my college applications (im so FUCKING relieved)

read and bought a lot of books!!

here’s what’s gonna happen:

i won’t delete my tumblr in the immediate future, but i have deleted the app from my phone (and intend to keep it deleted) which means i won’t be on as often as i used to

if y’all catch me being on this site a lot, call me out. tell me to get the fuck off and read a book. if you see me making posts about how irritated i am about this site, call me out. tell me to change my password and stay off for a week. i really mean it, and i don’t mean to sound dramatic. there’s a sense of dependency i have on this website that has done no favors for me. i rely on this site for interaction, but much of it is unhealthy or inauthentic or prohibitive of legitimate nonvirtual interaction.

being off this site does not strain me in the least bit. i.e.: i do not get sad or lonely or unproductive or anything negative w/o it. i noticed that i compulsively attempted to check it and when i realized that i was unable log in, i didn’t feel upset or irritated; i was simply reminded that i’m too dependent on it, and i moved on w my fucking day. nothing’s different except that my mind is clearer and i feel more in control of my emotions. along with tumblr, i deleted my twitter and instagram apps, and i don’t have the desire to go back on either. i redownloaded instagram to check someone’s account and checked my feed afterwards and was immediately angry and jealous and irritated! which is how i feel a lot of the time with tumblr as well. so i’ve deleted the app again and don’t plan on going back on. 

if this comes across as pretentious or preachy, i apologize, and i don’t intend it to sound that way. your relationship with tumblr and social media is your own, and i can’t speak on your behalf, but i do encourage you to stay away from it for at least a couple days or a week and see how you feel and evaluate the healthiness of your relationship with social media. and then do with your evaluation as you will. 

in my own experience, i feel inhibited by a lot of aspects of social media and find that they control and instigate a lot of negative feelings that i have. i don’t at all want to be dependent on something so controlling and manipulative and skewed. i value very few things more than independence, and my history with social media has only deprived me of that. 

tumblr and other social media have the potential to be addictive if they are not balanced out with more reliable forms of satisfaction. i mentioned that removing yourself from your smart phone or ur most used apps can produce some complex and vivid dreams. same thing happens when smokers quit smoking. i think that speaks volumes. if my brain is thinking more creatively at night because i’ve stopped filling my time with useless online shit during the day, who’s to say what i can do when i’m conscious and not reliant on another entity? 

i also want to clarify that i am not trying to bash or make a case against people who enjoy using social media and are able to extract happiness from their relationships w it. tumblr, in particular, has been a fantastic medium through which i could share and expand my interests with others who cared as i did and make some really solid friendships and connections w people. there are ways to use social media healthily, to control it so that it is not negatively affecting you, and i’m working on learning how to manage that. technology is advancing and media are transforming, so the best course of action, for me at least, is to learn to utilize it to my advantage and learn to step away from it when necessary or change my frame of mind and approach to usage.

in my personal experience, tumblr is a distraction; i function better w/o it. these past 2 weeks, i got a lot of shit done! that’s not to say i didn’t procrastinate or i wasn’t tempted to check tumblr (in fact i checked some people’s blogs during the 2 weeks) or i was super productive, but i experienced a conspicuous change in perspective. i was able to concentrate more deeply, think more creatively, and process information more efficiently. my emotions were more manageable, more sensible, and unmuted. i want to avoid the negative facets of this site as much as i can, but as i mentioned, i do retain dependence on it and find a lot of satisfaction on the site which is hard to achieve without equal amounts of dissatisfaction. over the next few weeks, i will be on, but i will try to limit my usage and function in a way that promotes only beneficial results. if any of you would like to reach me in a non-tumblr way, or talk to me about anything (really anything!), go ahead and PM me and i can give you my number or email or kik or whatever. <3 catch ya later lads

[unixcommerce]

Facebook News Feed Dies, What Marketers MUST Know

The Facebook News Feed is dead. It’s official.

Gone. Extinct. Poof. Nada. Oblivion.

In this article, I’ll tell you why I’m making this assertion, the conspiratorial events leading up to the death of the News Feed, what it all means for the future of Facebook marketing, and four solid takeaways that will superpower your marketing in a post-News Feed era.

After reading this article, you’ll be light-years ahead of most marketers. You’ll learn the unicorn moves in the brave new world of Facebook Messenger marketing — a world where the News Feed is a relic of history.

Facebook’s News Feed Is Dead: Here are the Facts

Let me lay out the issue in a single sentence: Facebook is restructuring all the leaders of their business to support a new focus on messaging and privacy.

The News Feed has been in decline for years. It’s final, gasping moments are at hand.

The ones to suffer most from the demise of News Feed are publishers — us, marketers, storytellers, businesses.

We get it. People don’t see our organic posts anymore.

But why this new round of outrage about the News Feed’s demise?

In the past, when the News Feed got dinged, it was usually preceded by a Mark Zuckerburg jeremiad about the loss of “friends and family at the core of the experience,” or a variation on that theme.

  Of course, these laments masked the cold, hard truth for us publishers who got screwed by the algorithm changes.

But now, it’s more than laments. It’s more than algorithm tweaks.

It’s people.

Zuckerburg has made moves. Bold moves.

What kind of moves? Here’s the Facebook shuffle that has all taken place within the last year.

These names may not be familiar to you, but basically, a whole lot of billionaires were just let out to pasture. Taken together, they tell the shocking story about how Facebook is changing.

WhatsApp Cofounder Jan Koum Left Facebook a While Back.

Koum mushroomed into a billionaire when Facebook bought his and co-founder Brian Acton’s startup, WhatsApp.

Now, Koum is spending more time playing ultimate frisbee than he spends tweaking his app. And Brian Acton jumped ship, too.

It was no secret that Koum and Facebook’s old guard crossed swords when Facebook started tinkering with WhatsApp’s most notable feature — ironclad encryption.

Chris Daniels just Resigned (March 14, 2019) after Recently Being Installed as the Leader of WhatsApp.

Daniels became Koum’s replacement but not for long. On the day that Fast Company called “ugly Thursday,” Daniels cleared out his desk and walked out the door.

That’s a pretty big move for a guy who just got the equivalent of a Facebook corner office.

Chris Cox, Third-highest at Facebook also Resigned.

This is big news.

Cox was engineer hire number 13 at Facebook and he spent 13 years at Facebook. (Let’s not go all superstitious about the string of 13s.)

However, Chris Cox is the highest ranking company officer ever to resign. He held the Chief Product Officer role, just one door down from Ms. Sandberg, Facebook’s COO.

  Chris Cox was a legend at Facebook — one of the most admired, and most trusted leaders the company knew.

His leaving is no morale booster, that’s for sure.

Those are just some of the changes that have been going on in Menlo Park. In his typical saturnine style, Zuckerburg described a few of those changes in a Facebook Newsroom post.

Fidji Simo now heading up the Facebook app.

Chris Cox’s role remains unfilled!

Will Cathcart is the new head of WhatsApp.

Javier Olivan is behind the plan to integrate Messenger, Whatsapp, and Instagram.

The VPs of Instagram, Messenger, and Whatsapp will all report directly to Zuckerburg.

Zuckerburg doesn’t upset the applecart for no reason.

As one Facebook insider reported, this “was a burn the boats moment — a symbolic point of no return intended to rally the company around a new existential imperative.”

The News Feed has reached the end of its influence as a Facebook feature. The Verge explained, it “[has] already peaked, or will soon.” And since Zuckerburg knew this, Zuckerburg killed it.

Folks, this is a very big deal.

What Does All of this Mean?

To put it simply, these organizational changes indicate a massive new shift in Facebook’s direction.

News Feed will most likely disappear entirely and be subsumed by the primacy of messaging.

The News Feed has been a fixture of Facebook almost since the very beginning.

Thus, its sunsetting seems to make zero sense. Why would they bury it? It’s like Apple killing off the iPhone or Coca Cola discontinuing their Coke product.

One reason needs to be stated right off the bat.

The News Feed is really controversial.

If you think back on some of the momentous and headline-making news in recent years, Facebook’s News Feed has been caught up in it.

Russian meddling in the United States elections

Mental wellness and healthful social relationships

Privacy controversy

Live streaming horrific acts of hatred

The rise of fake news

It’s hard to blame the News Feed directly for the outcome of the 2016 United States elections or as the cause for bloodshed in New Zealand. But the News Feed was there all along, and it’s no longer viewed as the bringer of truth and connection that it was intended to be.

And that needs to change. An algo tweak isn’t the change we’re talking about.

A dead News Feed is the kind of change that Facebook needs.

The News Feed is an existential legal threat to Facebook’s ongoing viability in the modern age.

So, that’s the negative side of things.

But obviously, Facebook is presenting a more positive standpoint.

Zuckerburg explained it (sort of) in his newsroom note. Here are the highlights from that release that shed light (sort of) on the rationale for the shakeup:

…we organize our company to build out the privacy-focused social platform

…new product efforts

…clear plan for our apps, centered around making private messaging, stories and groups the foundation of the experience

…the next chapter of our work [is] building the privacy-focused social foundation

In his rambling shpiel, Zuckerberg used derivatives of the word “privacy” seven times, and derivatives of the word “messaging” four times.

Is it beginning to make sense?

We saw this coming. We called it.

Look, as much as Mark Zuckerburg talks about human connection and family and friends, Facebook is a business. Businesses have to make money.

Facebook makes money, not from grandmothers fawning over photos of their grandbabies, but from businesses — the institutions that want to sell stuff.

And we businesses fork over a load of cash — billions of dollars each year.

The shift to privacy and messaging will contribute to a bigger and more solid revenue stream for Facebook. It has to. It’s the nature of business.

Instead of the News Feed, Facebook offers businesses the potential to use messaging to more effectively reach their customers. And, with all three messaging apps merging under a single infrastructure, businesses can reach more customers than ever before.

What’s more, as we’ve recently seen, Facebook is testing a business-exclusive messaging inbox.

That’s a major nod to business revenue being the driving force for Facebook’s epic change.

It just makes sense. Business sense.

But there’s another reason, and it comes as no surprise to Facebook. Email as a marketing channel is slowly dying.

Every email marketer that I know is disgusted with abysmally low open rates and clickthroughs. Email is just not working.

Who’s responsible for poisoning the well of email marketing?

Messaging apps.

And the biggest culprit? Facebook Messenger.

Rather than get all huffy about it, though, smart marketers are out there churning out Facebook Messenger chatbots, creating Messenger drip campaigns, sending chat blasts, and basically living in unicorn land.

What does this mean for the future of Facebook marketing?

The future is not dire. The future is bright with unicorns prancing in fields of delicate purple and pink wildflowers.

In fact, if you’re using Facebook Messenger marketing with chatbots, you have absolutely nothing to fear.

(But if you’ve been hoping that organic Facebook posting is going to cut it, then you’ll have to adjust your expectations.)

We’re in a new era of marketing ruled by Facebook Messenger, not the News Feed.

Facebook Business Marketing Tips

Here are four Facebook Marketing Power Tips that will add unicorn power to your marketing efforts.

Facebook Marketing Power Tip #1: Start using Facebook Messenger Chatbots Immediately

If the News Feed is dying, what are you going to do?

Find a way to reach your customers that does not involve the News Feed, right?

Yes, and the most effective way to do this is through Facebook Messenger.

  And the most effective way to use Facebook Messenger is with Messenger chatbots.

Chatbots are the future of marketing. And the future of marketing is now, especially as the News Feed sails into the sunset.

Sign up for MobileMonkey, and you can start creating Facebook Messenger chatbots today for free.

Facebook Marketing Power Tip #2: Do not Rely on Organic Facebook Posting Any Longer.

The days of getting tons of clicks, likes, and engagement from your organic posts are gone.

Yes, gratefully, there are loopholes that allow you to stay alive.

  But the hottest opportunity of all is Facebook Messenger.

Quick disclaimer: Boosting posts is a legitimate method for maintaining your Facebook marketing presence as long as the News Feed gasps its final breaths. However, you need to be strategic about this.

Don’t just boost a post for kicks.

Boost posts that have a comment guard on them.

With a comment guard, also known as a Facebook post autoresponder, anyone who comments on your post is invited to join your Facebook Messenger list.

Facebook Marketing Power Tip #3: Aggressively Create and Deploy Messenger Chatbots to Supplement and Outdo Email Marketing.

I’m not suggesting you fire your email person or delete your email list.

I am suggesting that you start using Facebook Messenger marketing in addition to email marketing. (And if you have to back off of email marketing to do it, go ahead.)

The reasons for this will become obvious if you Google “facebook messenger vs email.”

Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Anything you can do with email marketing, you can do with Facebook Messenger marketing only better.

Drip campaigns? Check.

Start a drip campaign and nurture your contact list on through to conversion.

What’s that? You’re staring at the read rate of 81% and the response rate of 53%?

Oh, nbd. That’s typical for Facebook Messenger drip campaigns.

What about using a chat blast instead of or in addition to an email blast?

Also possible.

Easily create a blast that pings your Messenger contact list with news, tips, or a topic that’s on your mind.

Once again, with engagement rates like these, it’s unfathomable that you would not use Messenger bots.

The death of the News Feed signals a new beginning for messaging. Facebook’s pivot to messaging is concurrent with the nadir of email marketing’s effectiveness.

Now is the time to jump into messenger marketing like your marketing success depends on it.

Because it does.

Facebook Marketing Power Tip #4: Supercharge Your Facebook Messenger List Building.

Back in the day, email list building was everything.

I spent enormous amounts of money getting potential customers’ email addresses in exchange for free apps, trial memberships, data, reports, analytics, ebooks, and newsletters.

Those days are long gone.

Today, I focus on Facebook Messenger list building.

It’s easier, cheaper, and the results are far more effective.

Every month, I gain around 5,000 new Messenger contacts. For free.

Most of this happens on autopilot. I’m sure you’ve seen the chat widget in the lower right-hand corner when you’re on the MobileMonkey website.

Opening a conversation adds you to my contact list.

If you have a WordPress site, you can add the chatbot to your website for free.

Messenger list building is the new frontier of marketing because that’s where your audience is, that’s where they’re most active, and that’s where you’re going to have the highest engagement rates and conversions.

Build your Facebook Messenger contact list using chatbots.

It’s as simple as that.

The News Feed is Dead. Long Live Facebook Messenger Chatbots.

One of the most innovative and powerful tech companies in the history of humankind is shifting its focus right before our eyes.

Facebook is killing off its most innovative and enduring feature.

They are pivoting to messaging.

This reality shapes the way that you engage and connect with your customers. Stay ahead of the curve by building your presence on Messenger, creating Facebook Messenger chatbots, and making marketing progress like you’ve never experienced before.

Republished by permission. Original here.

Image: Shutterstock

This article, “Facebook News Feed Dies, What Marketers MUST Know” was first published on Small Business Trends

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