#stop trying to get me to download a shitty single use app!!!!!

[rraaaarrl]

"Continue in app? [YES]"

NO

[woso-lover]

The other side of Manchester | Alessia Russo

Alessia Russo x foden!reader

Phil Foden x foden!reader

Summary: A anonymous dating app lets Alessia Russo, the Manchester United star striker, and Y/n Foden, the die hard citizen, fall for each other.

Warning: language, rivals to lovers?

English is not my first language

Masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bantr. It was the new trendy dating app everyone's using. It's a complete anonymous dating app, where you find your partner without any pictures or whatsover, only the things your counterpart says the you. This is the formal description of Keeley Jones, the developer of Bantr. Everyone in your surrounding and who's single has this app, exept for you. It wasn't like you weren't against the idea, but you didn't believed in every trend. With you the only single one who has not the app, your and your brothers teammates were basicly forcing you to download this app.

"Comon, Y/n. You know it going to work, since you look more for personality and everything. And wouldn't be home alone anymore." Your brother whined. Since weeks he tries to get you to download this app. He even put your own teammates against you, who were always on your side.

"I'm everything but lonely, Phil. And who knows maybe in two weeks no ones using this shitty app anymore" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n/n you are lonely. And who cares about this stuff. If you don't do it on your free will I will. And I will find you a hot chic who has both looks and personality." With that he grabbed your phone to make his threatment reality.

"Alright, alright. But at least let me do the fucking profil on my own."

"Alright, heartbreacker" He smiled as he gave you your phone back.

"I hate you" you said as you opend the app and logged yourself in. Phil kept a close eye on your phone until Jack walk over to the next room

"Yo Jack. You own me 20 bucks!" Phil yelled at him.

"I can't belive you fucking bet on me" You said shaking your head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the other side of Manchester it looked a bit different.

"Tooney, I think I'm gonna delete this app" Alessia sighed.

"What Bantr? Don't you dare." Ella muffled with a mouth full of crips.

"Because it's useless."

With that Ella stop whatever movie they were watching. It was movie night at Alessias like every friday. "Why? I thought there was this one girl you wanted to meet up with."

"Well she canceled"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. Can we just go on with the movie?"

"Of course yeah. But I swear on my boyfriend that I and this app will find some one for you." Ella said while putting on the tv again.

"No don't swear on him. He's actually nice" Alessia said smilling.

A few hours and two movies later Alessia and Ella still sat on the couch, with Ella sleeping besides her bestfriend. Alessia often tought about going also to sleep but the movies always kept her awake. So the blonde finally decides to put the tv off and closing her eyes too. But as she wanted to drift off, her phone beeped. With a sigh she looks at her phone and frowned at the bantr message.

Hey, sorry to disturb you. But my brother wouldn't leave me alone, if I wouldn't text anyone on this stupid app. ;)

Alessia smiled at this message. She ddebated if she's going to answer or not. In the end she decided to give it a try.

Hi. No everythings fine. I share the same opinion with this app. My bestfriend forced me to get it.

A thing Alessia didn't know was, that you were smilling on your phone to her respond. Happy that there was someone who shared the same opinion as you.

Looks like we have the same story. So do you maybe know how this app works properly?

I could help you indeed

I'm all ears, Bantr master

Alessia couldn't stop smiling. She wrote with many girls, acording the Ella it's necessary to find the perfect match, but never smiled this much in the beginning. She adjusted herself on the couch and text the anymous person.

You texted each other for hours until you had to put a stop into this. On sunday you had a game and with that a little training and a meeting. Your told her you had to work, not what you do for living. You didn't feel like telling a stranger that you are a footballer and maybe get used for this. But your texting partner didn't mind and you fell asleep thinking about her.

Alessia on the other side couldn't sleep, thinking to much about her texting partner. The conversation you two had was easy. It was easy to talk to you. Easier then with the other girls she texted with.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Ella woke up, searching for her bestfriend on the couch. Confussed she couldn't found Alessia, Ella walked around Alessias house, only to find her sitting on the kitchen counter with a smile in her face. She was looking down at the phone in her hands.

"What got you so smiley today, Lessi?" Ella asked. With that Alessia looked up and aknowledge for the first time her bestfriends precence.

"Nothing!" Alessia said quickly and turned her phone off quick. Too quick for Ella to believe.

"Well I think, you got a match on bantr, right?" Alessia nodded her head frusterated. There was no point in lying.

"Ohh. What's her name? Dies she lives in Manchester? Tell me everything you know." Ella commanded.

"Well she's a private person" Ella nodded suspicious. "Her names Y/n...uhm... yes she lives in Manchester and her favourite colour is Y/f/c"

Ella looked at her bestfriend dumbfounded. "Is that everything?" Alessia nodded her head slowly. "Oh dios mío. You really don't know how to talk to people. But let me handle this... Oh I got one. Ask her if she supports United or City."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"So how's bantr?" Lauren Hemp, your bestfriend, welcomed you, when you entered the pitch

"Good morning to you too, and how do you even fucking know about that one?" You asked her confussed while you tied your shoelaces.

"I have my trust sources" You shook your head. Your brother must tell someone and one of his teammates told it Lauren or it was Jack who told then Lauren. "So found any matches?" She asked curious.

"Yeah, I started texting with someone yesterday" You said proudly.

"Show me!" You gave Lauren your phone, so she could read the chat. "Why aren't you answering her?" She shoved your into your face.

"You see the kind off question she wrote down, right? So know imagine she supports fucking united. I wouldn't know what the fuck to do."

"You don't do anything, silly. You just have to shake of your pride and look over this, mate, if you like her. You do, right?" Lauren asked with a smile.

"The fuck, Lauren. I don't even know her. We texted yesterday. How can I like her then?"

"Because I know you. But you can't tell me you don't know anything."

"Well, her name is Alessia-"

"Uh like Alessia Russo." Lauren interrupted you. It was to tease you, because she knew about your rivalery you had in the league and who gets the starting on the Lionesses, since you both a striker.

"Don't Lauren, or I fucking-"

"Hey! Everyone to the middle!" Your coach yelled. As soon as everyone was in position, he went on. "Alright girls. Tomorrow we have a game to warm us up against United next week. As we know Tottenham is nearly on relegation, I do not wanna see any mistakes. It's also important that we win this game, so we are going to be second, since Chelsea lost against Arsenal. And with a win next week we are going to be first." He looked everyone of his players in the eyes. "Okay, so today is a short training with an tactic meeting afterwards. So want you all be ready at 2 o'clock in the meeting."

With that the training started. It was not intense, just something to train the things that didn't worked. After the coach dismissed y'all, you went instenly to your phone, to look what Alessia had texted you. You texted her in a pause.

Well isn't this sad, because I think Manchester is red ;)

You smiled at your phone for a short time. Something that didn't went unnoticed by your bestfriend.

Don't know if you support woman football, but they are playing next week. I think you going to see there, that Manchester is blue.

"Make sure your ready at 2, heartbreacker" Lauren said, when she walked to the showers.

Quickly you grabbed your towel and speeded after her. "Where do you get all this Informationen?.... Wait!... Are you talking with Jack again?" You yelled and ran after her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the next days the texting with each other has grow to an routine of the other. When you had your meeting for the game against Tottenham, what you won 4:0 with a hattrick of yours, you couldn't keep your hands and eyes of the screen. It went this far that the coach had to take it away from you.

With the win against Tottenham ManCity was one point apart from ManUnited. The tension got thicker in training and everyone worked hard to win this derby.

You and Alessia had a bet to finally meet after the long time of writting. If City wins Alessia had to orginze the date and if United wins you had to it. It gave you both something to work harder, to impress the other one, even none of you know that you both are playing profionall football for the Manchester clubs.

You felt attracted towards the woman. You liked her personality and of course that she is big football fan, who also watched the womans game. She on the other side felt like she had fallen for you. Alessia was known as a person who falls in love very easily. It has it pros and cons. One con she doesn't even know you properly. She only knew a version you could have created. But she was looking forward to the date.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was matchday. Your nerves went crazy like on every other big game. Steph Houghton gave the last prep talk before everyone lined up after her. You stood to your annoce next to Alessia Russo. You gave each other a look that meant, whoever wins this game gets the starting spot for the upcoming international break.

The game was intense. Both didn't want to give the other the win and with that the first place. It was 35th, when Alessia shot a beautiful goal with an assist from Ella. The United girls celebrated the goal loud with their fans. Then there was halftime. You went with anger of yourself in your locker-room, but it went away quickly, when you saw that Alessia had texted you.

1:0 for me, opps

You wish, honey. City still got full 45 min to score at least one goal

Not going to happen

Ella saw Alessias smile and smiled to herself before she sat next to her. She looked at her bestfriends phone before their coach called for everyones attention.

The game got more intense, than it already was. You had chances over chances, but nothing worked. Neither it was Mary or the last defender.

With that the game ended 1:0 and United stayed on top of the table. You were ready for a teasing comment from Alessia, like always when she wins against you, but that didn't happened. She just ran to the locker room. Weird, you thought. She always stays for the fans in the end. Since you played abroad, you also just went to the locker room. You were frusterated with yourself. You wanted to win against Alessia, but also wanted to impress the girl you had to admit were falling for.

When you entered the locker room you could see the disappointed and frustration in your teammates faces. You the first thing you did after you sat down, like all the other times, you went straight to your phone and of course did Alessia message you.

So since Manchester is red again, where does our date lead us. ;) ♡

Alessia was eager to finally meet you. To see if she not fell for a version the other person created. So she went straight to the lockerroom, forgetting for once the fans and texted you. She knew it sounded desprate, but she hoped you were too. Slowly the other girls were entering the locker room and started to celebrate their.

"Lessi, why are you on your phone? Come celebrate with us. You can text or whatever later." Ona said. But the blonde ressist.

"I'm good Ona" But the spaniard wasn't not pleased with the answer. She wanted to ask Alessia again, but interrupted by Mary, who put the music on.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Today was the day for your meeting with the girl you had fallen for over the last two weeks. It felt like falling for a mystery. Alessia wanted nothing fancy, like going out to a restaurant or something. So you decided to go to Café. Both of you were nervous to meet the other person. Alessia was a mess and put on every outfit she had. But with Ellas help she finally found something to wear. She also helped Alessia with the hair, that she at the end wore down.

You were also not better. Lauren came over and helped you with an outfit and gave advice on how to style your hair, but also to calm down your nerves. She swears she had never seen you this nervous. And of course your brother called you. He told you how he knew you find someone on this app and that he wishes you the best luck. With a look in the mirror you made your way to the Café.

But you still were running late so you texted her about it.

It's fine I'll wait outside

And she did it waited for you, but it looks like you were not coming.

Because you knew that Café very well, you drove a little bit different, so Alessia wouldn't see straight away. With a last look in the mirror of your car, you walked to the Café. But as you got closer to it, you couldn't believe your eyes. Alessia mf Russo stood there with her phone in her hand.

I'm outside. Where are you?

And now it hit you. The name Alessia, supporting Manchester United, having two brother. It now all made sense. And you stood there on your spot frozen and for the first time you didn't know what to do.

"Fuck me"

Part 2 maybe?

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I took your matches before fire could catch me

(joel miller x f!reader) 18+ part one

summary: Who knew meeting Joel Miller on a dating app would turn into the world's worst first date? (no outbreak. no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact) warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is mid 50's), dirty talk, pet names, fingering, dubious consent, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, drinking, hand kink, referenced cheating, degradation, angst, orgasm delay/denial. word count: 2.4k a/n: this is my first ever fic, please be gentle :')) a03 link

Another Friday night with a bottle of wine and shitty reality tv to keep you company. It suddenly hits you. Pangs of loneliness. You’re nearly 28 years old and you’re destined for the single life. Relationships never seem to last with you, or at least make it past the honeymoon phase. You take a sip straight from the bottle as you curse the boys who pretend to be men. The ones who’ve fucked you over, the ones who “aren’t ready for a relationship” after declaring their love for you and fucking you for six months, but will change their status and post a picture on Facebook with their arms wrapped around a new woman days after your breakup. When will it be your turn?

You’re soon drunk enough to make questionable decisions. You download that new dating app your friends keep gushing about. Lily. You tap on your phone screen, a picture of a flower loading up with the catchphrase “Are you ready for your love to bloom?” You groan at that alone, tempted to turn right around and delete the app already. But, something inside you tugs at you to give it a try anyway. You upload pictures, some selfies, some with friends, some candids at the beach, at a concert, at the park. Your bio is hard to come up with though. How can you use 400 characters to describe yourself to a stranger? You settle with including your name, a generic title of your occupation, some of your hobbies, and ending it with an open invitation for drinks. There. Easy enough, right?

Now, it’s time to swipe. Apparently when you like someone’s profile, you send them a virtual flower. A lily, to be exact. In order to message someone, they have to send you a lily back. You start to wonder if this app can get any cornier when your first profile appears in the queue. He’s an older man. 56 to be exact. You don’t remember setting an age limit, but you’re intrigued by his handsome appearance. His dark hair appears to be graying, his brown eyes sinking into you from beyond the screen. You swipe through his profile. He has nothing written so you have to guess his personality and hobbies from the pictures alone. There’s a picture of him with a teenage girl. Maybe his daughter? Another one of him playing guitar. Maybe he likes music. Maybe he’s a rockstar. He looks rugged enough to be one. A picture of him sitting at a table in red flannel with a beer in hand, a small smile emerging from behind his facial hair. He’s… hot. And too old for you. Fuck it. You send him a lily. Then you throw your phone down and pace all night wondering if he’ll send you one back.

In the morning, you're matched with Joel.

—

You ask Joel out for drinks. Immediately within your first message. All the dating advice given to you by the Internet says not to wait. Get to know someone as fast as possible for best results. No time to get attached if it doesn’t work out. You’re not much of a texter anyway, so you ask him if he wants to grab some beers at your favorite dive bar. You hate beer. You hate dive bars. But, you’d be willing to drink a thousand pale ales if it meant you got to share this attractive man’s air supply.

Joel simply says, “Yes.”

—

You realize you stand out at the bar. And not in a good way. You wanted to wear something to reflect your personality. So, you picked out a baby pink bodycon dress that stops at the middle of your thighs. You paired it with your favorite white ankle strap heels. Perfect for a night club. Not for meeting a middle aged dad at a dive bar. You decided you’d worry about that later.

You’re early. Like always. You belly up to the bar, unsure of what to order. You assume they don’t have your favorite brand of white wine, so you ask for your dad’s go-to. Whiskey on the rocks. It’s bitter, and you begin to gag as a man comes up behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back. The smell of sandalwood and dirt pierces your nostrils. You turn to see Joel. He’s wearing jeans and that red flannel from his picture.

“I like women who can hold their liquor,” he states, looking you up and down.

“Well, that’s not me,” you wince, eager to change the subject. “You must be Joel?”

You choose to go for a hug, he holds out his hand instead. The two of you stare at each other, reaching a stalemate, the jukebox in this shitty ass bar blasting a country song you hate. You shake his hand. Noticing his fingers are rough, calloused, and thick. Probably from the guitar playing. Maybe he really is a rockstar.

You sit down on the bar stool, crossing your legs as best as you can. It’s probably not wise to flash a man on the first date. Joel requests a beer from the bartender, and the two of you look anywhere but each other. You start to ask questions.

“So. You play guitar?”

“Yeah.”

“What music do you play?”

“All kinds.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite song to play?”

“Don’t know.”

You pound back your whiskey, slam the glass on the counter, and motion the bartender for another.

“Is that your daughter in your picture?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Cool. You a single dad then?”

“Yeah.”

You squint at him. This is worse than pulling teeth without Novocain. You decide to launch the ball into his court.

“So. Is there anything you wanna know about me?”

“Yeah, actually. Ain’t you the one who fucked Tommy? While he was still married?”

Your skin ignited. The wind completely knocked out of you. How does he know about… that? How does he know about the guy you slept with one time in college? And even worse, does he know how much you enjoyed the affair, even though you ruined that guy’s marriage and, ostensibly, the rest of his life?

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” you muse, trying to keep your cool.

Joel slams the beer bottle on the counter, its contents flying out the neck and hitting your dress. You stand up, wobbly deer in headlights.

“How do you know?” is all you can whisper.

“Because he’s my brother.”

Tears began welling up in your eyes, your hands shaking. “I was 21, I didn’t know any better.”

“Whatever.” Joel says, turning away from you.

You grab your purse and sprint to the bathroom. Congratulations, you’ve just set a new record for the world's worst first date.

—

You stare in the mirror. Tears streaming down your face. Your makeup is ruined. You’ve accepted that. You’re so angry that this old memory is bubbling up to the surface. The one you’ve tried so hard to push down for the past six years. You met Tommy at a bar while out with your college friends. You noticed the wedding ring, the framed photos on the walls of his living room, but you fucked him anyways. And you left your underwear behind for his wife to find. You enjoyed every moment of it. You even got off to the memories of that one night stand for months after the fact. You’re a goddamn monster. You’ve accepted that.

But, what you can’t accept is that Joel just ruined your favorite dress.

You take a deep breath between sobs, scrounging through your purse for a Xanax. The bathroom door is kicked open, and you turn to yell at the intruder to get out.

But, it’s Joel.

You stare at him with a blank expression while he locks the door behind him. Something you were too distressed to do.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “Haven’t you had enough from humiliating me in public?”

“No,” he exhales.

Joel quickly shoves you up against the wall. Your purse and its belongings clatter against the dirty floor. You gulp as his left arm leans against the wall, the other reaching up to caress your cheek.

“What was it like?” he asks.

“What was... what like?” you counter.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

You feel like you should be scared. But, you’re not. If anything, you’re super turned on right now while the brother of the man you had an affair with all those years ago begins to fondle you in the bathroom of a dive bar.

Joel’s right hand grabs your breast, he toys with it while staring into your eyes. You can’t help but moan and he pinches harder.

“Answer me,” he growls.

“It was… It was stupid. I was a dumb college girl and what I did was wrong.”

“Then, why’d you do it?”

You swallow. His hand moves down, brushing against your stomach, heading towards the hem of your dress.

“Is this how you treat every girl on the first date? Corner her and interrogate her li-li-like a creep?” you try to sound venomous, but your words are shaky. He notices.

“You can leave any time you want, babygirl.”

The word “babygirl” causes a sensation to ripple through your core. You feel a wetness spreading between your thighs. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You finally answer, “I just wanted his attention. I’ve always liked… Older men.”

Joel pauses, his hand hovering over your thighs. He meets your gaze again.

“Do you now?”

Then he pounces. Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, his fingers are inside your underwear, rubbing your clit. Your head hangs forward as you moan against his touch.

“That what you sounded like when Tommy touched you?”

“N-no,” you sputter, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

“I wanna hear what you sounded like.”

Joel spins you around so you’re facing the wall now, his fingers still groping your pussy. He hikes up your dress and pulls your underwear to the side.

“Wh-why do you wanna hear? You a pervert?” you shoot back at him, but your body betrays you and a gush of wetness secretes from between your thighs.

“You’re a naughty fuckin’ girl, you know that?” Joel mutters in your ear. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, something prodding against your back. Something big.

“Someone needs to teach you a lesson,” he adds, his fingers now tracing your entrance.

“For what? Fucking your brother? Sounds like someone’s jealous,” you spit. “Like you can still get it up anyway.”

And with that, Joel’s fingers pound into you, a whine fleeing your throat. It hurts at first, but the enjoyment you’re experiencing is quickly overpowering. You shudder at the way his fingers glide in and out of you at a rapid pace.

“Too quiet,” Joel grumbles, biting at your neck. “I wanna hear what you sounded like.”

“You wanna hear me? I’ll make sure everybody in the fucking bar hears me,” you hiss back at him and begin to wail with pleasure.

You quickly feel a pressure growing inside your lower belly. You feel startled, your hands grasping against the wall for anything to hold onto.

“Did Tommy make you cum like this?” Joel whispers in your ear.

You shake your head violently. How does this man know you’re so close already?

“Wanna hear you, babygirl.”

Fuck. There it is again.

You moan Joel’s name as loud as you physically can while your body tenses up and you ultimately surrender to its release. You glance in the mirror on the other side of the room. Watching yourself get finger fucked by this strange old man in a bar bathroom sends you over the edge. What kind of person have you turned into?

Before you can even catch your breath, you feel the tip of his cock plunging into you. You let out a yelp, and you feel Joel’s hand on top of yours. He’s still covered in your cum, and his fingers interlace with yours.

“If you can fuck Tommy, you can take daddy’s cock.”

Your eyes are nearly bulging out of your fucking skull. You try to distract yourself from how turned on you are, how your pussy is already throbbing for more. Especially at the mere mention of Joel calling himself, “daddy.”

“Daddy, huh? You really are a pervert,” you cough as Joel pushes into you.

“You need to be punished,” is all he says. You feel his cock sitting inside you, but Joel doesn’t move. You start whining, rocking your hips back and forth in an attempt to get friction, something, anything. Joel’s hands are immediately on your hips, forcing you to sit still.

“You ruined my favorite dress, the least you can do is make me cum,” you snap at him, squirming in place.

“And you ruined my brother’s life, the least you can do is take your punishment like a good girl.”

This was the most you’d heard him speak all evening. Was he really this hung up on something that happened years ago? And not even directly to him?

Before you can unleash another quip, a heavy groan escapes Joel as he begins to pump relentlessly. Guess he had enough of trying to punish you too.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he snarls, his fingers digging into your hips again, bruises already forming underneath your soft skin.

“I always get what I want,” you murmur, feeling the pressure building inside you again. Your body starts clenching down on his, you begin to pant against the wall. You’re so fucking close.

“Don’t think so, babygirl,” Joel grunts, quickly pulling out.

Instinctively, you whine, and are about to call him a two pump chump when you realize he’s cumming all over your back. His sticky essence dripping down your skin. Your pussy throbs, dissatisfied with the neglect he gave you. Turning around, you see his pants already buckled again and he’s taking off his flannel, tossing it at you. Before you can process what is happening, you glance in the mirror realizing there are now not only beer stains, but also cum stains all over your favorite dress. You catch the shirt in your hands and stand there, mouth agape, as Joel leaves the restroom in a huff.

—

[officerjennie]

the softest of treasures

CW: Geralt has Issues, self doubt, vague mentions of past shitty relationships, Jaskier uses a copious amount of emojis (in which Jaskier is Me)

Summary: Geralt gets his hopes up despite the past showing him again and again that he couldn't make anyone happy, and ends up asking Jaskier, the man he's been texting non-stop for over a week, on a coffee date. The date only makes his hopes soar higher, and Geralt feels the fall from it - but cannot bring himself to cut it short before the fall.

Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Story Masterlist

A very special thanks to @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde who is the best enabler. I promise I'll write chapter 2 soon, just for you.

It was a foolish thing to hope, but the feeling was caught in Geralt’s throat.

Dating apps had been the bane of his existence ever since Lambert had forced him to download one. The fact that there was more than one out there just made him think too much on how outdated he was when it came to technology (something Lambert loved to tease him about, much to Geralt’s dismay), and figuring out how to use the one and only dating app he’d been forced to create an account on had been a waste of time.

He hated it. Trying to write out thoughtful paragraphs about himself and his interests, posing for ‘sexy’ photos to slap up there, judging his ‘potential matches’ by their looks, age, gender and a quick sentence or two and then immediately swiping for yes or no.

It made him itch. He didn’t even want to be on the damn app, and now ‘local singles’ were judging him and thinking about sex with him.

But now it wasn’t even the fucking app that was the issue.

Apparently, Lambert hadn’t been the only one plotting behind his back, and Eskel had happened to have a friend who was single. Jaskier, who Geralt had met a few times and had always felt tongue tied around - he wasn’t even sure he’d ever actually introduced himself, as a matter of fact, and the first message Jaskier had sent him just made him extra sure of that.

Jaskier had texted him. Out of the blue, with only a two minute head’s up from Eskel that read, and Geralt had memorized and could easily quote it, “Don’t freak out. Gave my friend your number. Don’t run this one off.”

That had been a week ago, and now Geralt was staring at the phone in his hand. Staring at the words he’d typed out while still in his sleeping pants, ones that were dotted with holes and faded out, no shirt on despite the fact that it was cold in his apartment.

His hands wanted to shake, and he wanted to send the message. Jaskier had sent a laughing emoji half an hour before - several, actually. He had a habit of sending strings of them - and he’d been laughing at Geralt’s dry humor again. They hadn’t exactly been talking nonstop the past week, but it was damn close to it. Good morning and goodnight texts, a few pictures here and there. Jaskier was fond of selfies with silly faces and Geralt hadn’t been complaining one bit over it.

But they’d hit it off so well. They got along so well. And Geralt hated to hope, but it had been over a year since his last relationship had fallen apart.

It was just a coffee date. Just a suggestion, Jaskier could even consider it a friend date. Geralt dropped his hand to his lap, holding his phone loosely while he stared up at the ceiling, searching the paint designs for answers. Could he really try again? Did he really have any sort of chance with him at all?

He wasn’t...very good for anyone. Couldn’t ever give someone all they deserved. But fuck, he wanted, and Jaskier had such a brilliant smile and cute freckles dotting his nose. Geralt wanted to kiss them, and hold his hand, and wanted to watch crappy horror movies while cuddling up and pretending like the candles on his coffee table were a roaring fire that kept them warm.

With a deep breath, he picked his head up and peeked down at his phone. And then before he could stop himself, he quickly pressed send, tossing his phone aside and escaping off to the kitchen to ignore it - while straining his ears anyway for any sign that Jaskier had read it and responded.

Making coffee was just an excuse to keep his hands busy. And it was already past ten, so he had to do decaf if he wanted any chance of sleeping that night - so why the fuck had he suggested a lunch date at a coffee shop again? Geralt swore under his breath, tapping his fingers on the counter while waiting for the coffee to brew, not sure if he could stand being in the same apartment as his phone and also hardly able to stop himself from running over to check it.

He was a desperate idiot. He was just a man with a stupid crush. Also he was hungry, and his stupid feelings had gotten in the way of remembering to eat breakfast that morning.

By the time his coffee was done and he had a bagel with plain cream cheese on it, he was certain he’d fucked everything up and lost the only new friend he’d gained in the past five years. Still, he made a beeline for his phone, biting the bagel and holding it in his mouth while he unlocked the screen.

Jaskier had already sent him a message. Several, in fact. The first just several exclamation marks, the next an excited “yes yes YES!”, and then a few of him spewing about how much he loved the pastries there. Geralt’s heart was already beating fast, a smile trying to form at how excited Jaskier would get over the smallest of things, and then he reached the last message and he had to look away from his phone.

“So it’s a date then?”

Jaskier had ended the message with that emoji with the big, watery eyes. The one that reminded Geralt of a puppy. Made him imagine Jaskier was pouting cutely at his phone, trying to get what he wanted, and seeing it there made his palms sweat.

All Geralt could manage was a short “yes” back, and then watch as another string of emojis popped up.

He wasn’t sure why he was setting himself up to fall. Geralt tugged the blanket off of the back of his sofa and wrapped himself up in it, falling over to his side, watching as Jaskier went off on another tangent of texts he could barely follow the string of thought for.

It was going to hurt when Jaskier decided he wasn’t good enough for him, but Geralt couldn’t help it. He let his hopes soar.

-

Setting the date for the following weekend had been a mistake. Geralt had likely experienced levels of grief that professionals hadn’t even discovered yet, mourning his idiocy and future regrets and pain. Thinking himself into at least one full breakdown, and then half of one when he’d barely pulled himself together in the drive through while ordering some shitty coffee one morning. Work had been one disaster after another, and he was surprised no one had found him and told him off for suddenly not being so far ahead on his paperwork.

He was still waiting for someone to do just that. Lost in his thoughts and fears, lost in the jokes and tangents that Jaskier was still sending him. A jittery mess at his desk, unable to keep his leg still, forgetting lunch twice and having to grab some fast food that left his chest burning for the rest of the evening.

Thursday and Friday went, and by the time he was home he was an absolute wreck. Considered over and over just canceling in advance, telling Jaskier something had come up and he had to change plans. But then his phone would chime, and he’d get caught up in Jaskier’s messages, and the fear would give way just enough to hope that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

That didn’t mean he managed to sleep much that night. Tossed and turned even more than usual, until his blanket was on the floor, his leg hanging off the side of his bed while he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Not even listening to his meditation audio helped, the voice droning on in his ears. Usually it helped calm him, and it at least gave him a distraction from his spiraling thoughts and the wet tracks that had trailed down his cheeks.

But Saturday came, and he didn’t want to get out of bed.

He did though. When his phone buzzed next to his pillow, Geralt was fumbling for it before he even processed it. It would be Jaskier, who else would be texting him this early? Work and his family were the only ones who messaged him otherwise anyway, and Eskel and Lambert would have little need of him.

It was, of course, Jaskier. A long, drawn out good morning message, with far more Os than necessary. Geralt sighed back into his pillow with a smile touching his lips, considering how he might reply. Usually he just sent back ‘morning’ but, well...today was special, wasn’t it?

That made a bit of the horror creep back into his chest - what if he ruined it? Ruined it before it even started? But, then...wouldn’t it be easier on the both of them if he did? That thought made him clutch his phone a bit tighter, staring blankly at the screen that had dimmed. Better to cut it off before it hurt them, before Jaskier learned how much of a disappointment he was. How he could never make him happy, give him what he wanted, what he deserved.

Maybe he really should call it off.

The tears were back, and Geralt hated them. Dropped his phone just to press the palms of his hand against his eyes, hoping to push them back and all of the pain with them.

Better to just get it over with. And he picked his phone back up to do just that, trying and failing to unlock the screen twice before he managed to bring up their conversation.

Jaskier had already sent another message though. A picture, because of course it was, he was obsessed with selfies and posing. But this one felt different. More personal than the rest.

He wasn’t wearing some fancy outfit, out in the sunlight laughing or giving the camera a dashing grin. Wasn’t posing with his coffee or showing off the dessert he’d gotten at a nice cafe. He was rather mussed up. Still in bed, shirtless (though Geralt could only tell that because his shoulders were peeking out from beneath the blanket). Chin on his pillow as he stared up at his phone, face still scrunched up and sleepy. He’d just rolled over and taken a picture, not even fully awake, not dressed up like he so loved to be.

Not able to stop his treacherous thumbs, Geralt typed out ‘you’re cute’ before he could stop himself. It was sent and Geralt just stared at his phone again, staring at the lame words he’d sent the only person who had shown him so much as a modecrum of interest in what felt like a lifetime.

Jaskier was typing back almost as soon as he’d sent it, excitement evident by all of the extra exclamation marks he slapped at the end of his sentences. And any hope of cutting it off before it even started was out the window, because just like that he’d hooked himself into Geralt far too deep.

He had a couple of hours to be an absolute mess before he met up with Jaskier. Which meant a couple of hours to sit around and do nothing but text him and try to not panic. It was easier as long as Jaskier wasn’t busy, which conveniently he had nothing to do until their date. Nothing but to get ready, which he was apparently being rather finicky over - even moreso than usual.

It was probably lame, but Geralt just picked one of his work outfits. A button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, though he skipped the slacks for a pair of jeans. That and with his hair tied back, he was as ready as he’d ever be.

The coffee shop was relatively close to where he lived. Close enough that Geralt decided to walk there instead of drive, to get him out of his apartment, give him plenty of time to regret his choices and also feel overwhelmed by the prospect of finally meeting him. As if he hadn’t met him before, like he hadn’t seen him plenty and heard him laugh from across the room.

Back then, he’d thought nothing of him. Hadn’t realized how easy their conversations would be, how each smile would make Geralt’s heart flutter stupidly in his chest. But here he was, walking to their first date, second and third guessing himself while knowing full well he couldn’t bring himself to stop and turn back now.

He was early by a half hour, but Jaskier had beaten him there. All Geralt could do was stand right in front of the door for a moment, panicked, because Jaskier was laughing. Head thrown back, his hair a purposeful mess that begged for fingers to run through it, a dimple on one of his cheeks as he spoke to the waiter that was taking his order. Everything about him was so alive, so bright despite the dreary sky and dullness of the afternoon, and Geralt wanted to tuck tail and run the other way because he’d just ruin everything.

But Jaskier caught sight of him, and the way his face lit up made Geralt’s chest ache. He practically bounced in his seat as he waved at him, and Geralt was weak, couldn’t help but be drawn right over to him.

“Hi.” Jaskier breathed the single, simple word as Geralt reached their table, fidgeting with one of the many rings he kept on his fingers.

“Hi,” Geralt managed right back, standing there for a few moments, lost in how blue Jaskier’s eyes were. Pictures didn’t do their color justice, and Geralt had seen plenty of pictures of them. His photo gallery was filling up with the endless selfies Jaskier kept sending him, and a few scattered ones of himself that Jaskier had weaseled right back out of him.

Fuck. He was standing there blankly like an idiot. Geralt remembered how to move and slid into the seat across from him, far too late to seem casual. But Jaskier didn’t say anything of it, just continued to play with his rings, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips before a small laugh escaped him.

“You know, I thought through at least, at least, five different conversations with you? Kept thinking about what we might talk about when we finally did this and met up in person. And yet- yet here you are, and suddenly I’ve forgotten everything we’ve ever talked about.” Jaskier laughed again, pink spreading across his cheeks, and the way he looked at Geralt through his eyelashes was almost shy.

Geralt responded before he could even think through his words. “Never thought I’d see the day where you’d be speechless.” And just like that, he regretted even getting up that morning, because Jaskier was suddenly sputtering.

“Wha- well I- rude.” Jaskier made a few more starts of words and noises, blinking and gesturing with his wrist. “I’ll- I’ll have you know there’s plenty of times I don’t have anything to say. Plenty! Words are hard.”

He really wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so all he did was just look at Jaskier, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand and watching as he started to sputter some more. And then Jaskier’s nose was wrinkling adorably, and he nudged Geralt’s leg with his foot, biting back another grin that threatened to spread on his lips.

“Rude.” Jaskier flipped open the menu he’d had in front of him, “It’s really not my fault you’re so easy to talk to. If you didn’t want me rambling on, then you shouldn’t have been such a good listener. Your fault, you brought this on yourself.”

“Noted,” Geralt said, reaching for his own menu while Jaskier made yet another adorable, faux offended noise.

The rest of the date went by in quips and laughter and easy banter. In some ways it was even easier than their messages, with Jaskier right there, with all of his expressions and never ending words. Geralt thought it was no wonder he used so many faces while texting, because Jaskier could go through the full range of emotions in one single sentence. Every single feeling right there at the end of his sleeve, open and so bright.

It made it easy for Geralt to understand him. He’d always had a bit of difficulty with other’s emotions, figuring out what they needed from him, what they wanted him to just get without saying it flat out. But Jaskier felt so openly, and talked enough for the both of them, not forcing Geralt to say more than he felt like and doing his best to not talk over him either.

Still, it was a bit exhausting, something Geralt felt a bit guilty over thinking. By the end of their date he wanted nothing more than to curl up on his sofa with his headphones in, playing nothing, and just lay in silence for a while. Just to have a bit of peace and quiet after listening to so many words one right after the other - especially since he’d felt obligated to listen to each and every one of them.

“I had a really good time,” Jaskier said to him as they left the cafe together, a soft smile still on his lips, his eyes still crinkled at the edges from all the laughter. Geralt nodded and meant it, because he had too. “We can do it again? I mean, if you want - not specifically this again, just, you know. Date? Go out? See a movie, or have dinner, or stay in and eat shitty pizza until we regret ever ordering it?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

How was Jaskier’s smile still so brilliant after he’d seen it their whole date? It was, though, and Geralt couldn’t help but think he’d love to see it every day. Would love to be the one to make him smile like that, and couldn’t believe he had been.

Jaskier hesitated over something, shifting his weight, and then he reached out and touched Geralt’s face and stole his breath away. His fingers were so light on his cheek, barely there, and they lingered but for a moment before they slipped away again.

“See you,” Jaskier said quietly, and then he added with a soft laugh, “I’ll text you when I’m home?”

And despite having spent two hours doing nothing but talking to him, Geralt couldn’t wait to hear from him again.

Maybe it was foolish to get his hopes up. Maybe it would hurt more this way. But fuck, Geralt’s heart couldn’t stop its fast pace even after he was home, after he was laying and staring up at the ceiling of his living room with his headphones in just so he could hear nothing but quiet.

It was stupid, foolish, inevitably painful. But Geralt wanted to try even if he’d ruin things eventually, and there wasn’t a person he wanted to try more with than the man who already had his phone buzzing away in his pocket.

-

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @sulkyshengshou @trickstermoose67

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 6

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here, chapter 4 here and chapter 5 here.

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

When Friday was just around the corner, Azriel was a nervous mess.

He had cleaned his apartment twice, which he understood was a weird thing to do since she wasn’t even coming to his house. He had tried on every item of clothing in his wardrobe. He had googled ‘conversation topics first date’ and written a few down on his phone. He had even gotten a haircut.

He hadn’t been able to sleep at all that week. It felt weird to look at her videos when he had met her and talked to her. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even though it wasn’t. The videos were on the internet for everyone to see, yet Azriel couldn’t bring himself to watch her videos. So he didn’t sleep.

The day before the date, Azriel had decided to get her flowers. But when he stood in a flower shop and the person behind the register asked what kind of flowers he wanted, he just walked out of there. He had no idea what kind of flowers to give to a florist. He knew that certain flowers had certain meanings, and even though he had no idea what any flower meant, a florist probably knew. What if he bought flowers that said ‘I hate you’ or ‘happy funeral’?

Azriel couldn’t risk it, so he bought some chocolate instead. All women like chocolate, right?

But when he came home, his mind did that thing it always did when he was sleep-deprived: it questioned his every decision. What if Elain is lactose intolerant? What if she’s vegan? What if she is the only person on planet earth who hates chocolate? What if the different flavors of chocolate have meaning, just like flowers? Maybe you bought some sort of ‘happy funeral-chocolate’?

In an attempt to get these intrusive thoughts out of his mind, he went to the gym. He worked out for two hours, which was a bit excessive. The gym played shitty gym-music and every single person made weird sounds. It was the perfect distraction. For now.

Azriel hoped that his workout would help with his insomnia, too. He hoped that if he lifted enough weights and ran a few more miles than usual, perhaps he would be able to sleep. It had never worked before, but, as his mother used to say; “hope is the last thing that leaves you.”

However, after tossing and turning for three hours, he could safely say that the workout had done nothing to help him sleep. He couldn’t understand how a person could be so fucking tired, but still unable to sleep. He was almost going a bit crazy at this point. For the past weeks, Azriel had gotten used to falling asleep to Flower Girl ASMR’s videos. He had gotten used to her sweet voice rocking him to sleep. The insomnia was almost worse now that he knew how good it felt to have a decent night’s sleep.

Azriel looked at his phone. It was almost 02.30 in the morning. Fuck, he muttered to himself. He really didn’t want to be a tired mess on the date tomorrow. He had to put his best foot forward, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he hadn’t slept well for almost a week.

Maybe he should just watch one of her videos? She would obviously never know.

After debating with himself for a few minutes, he decided that Elain deserved to meet a well-rested Azriel, so he opened the YouTube app and found her latest video.

Azriel held his breath as her face filled his screen. God, she was lovely. Her smile could light up the darkest of nights, and her sweet voice was like a calming balm for his soul.

He put the phone in his chest and just listened. Slowly and gently, her whispers lulled him to sleep.

Azriel woke up relaxed, but nervous. He only had a half-day at work because Rhys had decided to send everyone home early today to celebrate that Feyre was pregnant. He was taking her on a spa weekend. She was only a few weeks pregnant, but Azriel knew that she would be the most pampered woman in the world during this pregnancy. This weekend was just the beginning. If she suddenly got a craving for pickle smoothies with whipped cream and sprinkles, Rhys would 100% make her one every day. And that is saying something since this man almost threw up every time someone opened a pickle jar in his vicinity.

“Any cool plans tonight, Az?” Cassian asked as he started to pack up his belongings.

Azriel wanted to tell him about the date. He wanted to share the nervousness with someone - anyone. But he couldn’t. Cass knew who she was. Nesta had known her since college. If this didn’t go well, Azriel would never hear the end of it. So he lied.

“No, nothing special. You?”

“I was going to take Nesta out for a date to celebrate that it has been four years since she agreed to go on a date with me…”

Azriel laughed. “After you had panted after her for like two years you mean?”

“Exactly!” He smiled. Cassian sure seemed like a big brute the first time you met him, but he was actually a soft teddy bear. He was never ashamed when people mentioned that he had been trying to win Nesta over for years before she agreed to date him. He just felt like he had won a prize. It was very sweet.

“However,” he continued. “She has to work late. Apparently, one of her authors had plagiarized fanfiction, which Nesta found out about like a week before the book went to print. So obviously, Nesta is livid and I do not want to be close to her until this is resolved.”

Nesta owned a publishing company that focused on publishing romance novels, which didn’t surprise anyone. Nesta had always loved romance books. In her words; the smuttier, the better. Azriel always found them a bit cringy. It was like reading porn. But truth be told, he had read a few books that Nesta had recommended, and they had taught him a thing or two.

“What the hell is fanfiction?” he asked Cassian.

Cassian shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, but apparently this author had just copied something from the internet and changed the names of the characters and sent it in as a manuscript.”

“Weird. I understand that Nesta is pissed.”

“Yeah. So, you wanna do something? Take out and a game?”

“No, I can’t,” Azriel lied.

“You just said that you didn’t have any plans.”

Fuck.

“Yeah, well. I said that I didn’t have any special plans, not that I didn’t have any plans.”

Implying that his date with Elain was “not special” made him feel like shit.

Cassian eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going on a date.”

“What? no.”

Cassian laughed and slapped Azriel’s back. “Yes, you are. You have that date-look all over your face.”

“What the hell is a date-look?” he asked, but Cassian didn’t answer.

“Who are you going out with? Do I know her? Is she hot?”

Azriel held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions. “You don’t know her,” he lied.

Cassian grinned. “So, you are going on a date?”

“You just said that I had a date-face?”

“Yeah, that was a lucky guess. So, what’s her name?”

“None of your business, Cass.”

“Wow, what a beautiful name,” Cassian teased. “But I get it. You like being secretive. Can you at least tell me how you met?”

“The internet.”

Cassian let out a fake gasp. “Stop the presses and hold your horses. Azriel downloaded a dating app? Can pigs fly now, too?” He made a point of looking out the window.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Azriel slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the elevator. Cassian was just behind him.

“So, can I see a photo?”

“No.”

“What if you’re getting catfished?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you can never be sure. One time, this girl, or actually, it was an old man…”

“Cass, please. Just let it go,” Azriel interrupted. “There’s a reason why I never tell you guys when I go on dates.”

“Dates? You’ve been going on multiple dates without telling me? I’m wounded, Azriel.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and stepped into the elevator. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Azriel got out. Cassian had his car in the underground parking garage. Just before the doors closed, Cassian called out for Azriel. “You might need this.” He threw something at Azriel, and Azriel didn’t see what it was until he caught it.

It was a condom.

With a grin, Cassian disappeared behind the big, metal elevator doors.

Azriel shook his head and looked down at the small foil packet in his hand. Cassian really was the worst.

A few hours later, Azriel was almost ready to leave for the date. He was wearing black trousers and a dark grey knitted sweater. And blue socks. Cobalt blue, to be exact. Azriel had a thing about colorful socks. He mostly dressed in black, but he didn’t own a single pair of black socks. These blue socks were his favorites, though. He loved cobalt blue.

Azriel was checking the route to the bar when an incoming phone call made his phone vibrate (he had put his phone on mute and deleted Barbie Girl from his phone, thank god!).

It was Elain calling.

Azriel felt his heart drop. Nobody called just before a date unless they wanted to cancel.

With a sigh, he answered the phone. He tried to sound cheery. “Hello, Elain.”

“Azriel! I’m so happy you picked up.” She sounded out of breath.

“Anything wrong?” Azriel asked.

“Well. Kind of… have you left your apartment yet?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

There was a short pause, and Azriel could have sworn that he heard her swear under her breath.

“Well, I won’t be able to make it. I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for calling this late. I was really looking forward to our date, I promise.” She really did sound apologetic.

“Has anything happened?” Azriel asked, suddenly a bit worried.

“No… Or actually, yes. I fell when I got out of the shower earlier. I thought that I just needed to rest, but I can’t walk,” she let out a pained laugh. “I’m such a clutz.”

Azriel hated that she was trying to make light of the situation. He hated that she was hurt. “Elain. If you can’t walk, you should probably go to the ER,” Azriel said.

“Oh, no. I called my neighbor. Madja. She’s a doctor. She said that I had just sprained my ankle.”

“Okay…” Azriel didn’t know what else to say.

“Can we reschedule?” Elain asked. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

Azriel was used to being rejected. He was used to not trusting new people. But somehow, he trusted Elain when she said that she wanted to see him.

“Of course we can reschedule. I was really looking forward to meeting you too.”

“Really?” He could hear the smile in her voice. It made him smile.

“Yes. I’m av…”

Azriel was interrupted by a hiss from Elain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ready to steal a car, drive over her to her place, and get her to the hospital. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t know her address.

“Mhm, I’m fine. I just.. moved.”

“Elain. Do you have a friend or family member coming over to help you?”

There was a stretch of silence. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Her tone was too positive and cheery. Azriel didn’t believe her one bit.

“Have you had dinner?”

“I was planning on making some instant ramen.”

Azriel frowned. “And how are you going to do that when you can barely move? Also, that’s not good enough for dinner.”

She didn’t answer for a while. “I’m fine. I promise.” He could hear her voice break on the last syllable. She was not fine.

“Elain. Please, will you let me get you some food? I don’t have to come in if you don’t want me to. Just, let me get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to. If you’re willing to give me your address, I’ll be there in just a bit.”

She hesitated. “You probably have something better to do.”

“I don’t. Now please, let me get you some food.”

He didn’t just want to get her some food. He wanted to make sure that she was alright. He didn’t want her to sit all alone in her apartment when she couldn’t walk.

He wanted to take care of her.

After a small eternity, he could hear her whisper “Okay.”

45 minutes later, he was outside her building with sushi (she had said that she liked it) and a bag full of snacks. He didn’t know what she liked, so he had bought a little bit of everything.

A short, old lady walked out the door, and Azriel caught it with one hand. He didn’t want to call her and make her come to the door right now, so he snuck in.

Elain had told him that she lived on the sixth floor, so he quickly made his way up the stairs. He couldn’t risk being caught in an elevator right now.

He found the door with her name on it and raised his hand to knock. And then he froze.

What am I doing? he thought to himself. He had basically asked her for her address and then invited himself to bring her food. He knew that she had a bad history when it came to men. What if she just didn’t want to say no because she thought that it would hurt his feelings?

Azriel contemplated leaving the food outside the door and text her when he was a safe distance away.

“Azriel, is that you?” someone called from the apartment. Elain.

Azriel had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he called back. “Do you want me to leave the food outside the door?”

“No, come in. The door is open.”

With a deep breath, Azriel gathered his courage and reached for the doorknob.

He walked into a small hallway that opened up to a quaint kitchen. Elain was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was bright and welcoming. The walls were painted light green and the cabinets were white. Azriel could see a few cookbooks on her windowsill, which made him smile. Most people didn’t own cookbooks nowadays - they just found recipes online.

“In here,” Elain called. Azriel made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. His first thought was that the room really seemed to fit Elain. The dark wooden floor was a nice contrast to the white walls. Not that you saw much of the walls since they were covered by a built-in bookshelf and a gallery wall full of botanical prints. And there were plants in every nook and cranny. There was a dark green velvet couch in the middle of the room, and on it sat Elain. Or actually, she was half-seated, half laying down. Her foot was propped up with a few pillows. There was a coffee mug on the table in front of her, and beside the couch, he could see a worn leather chair.

Elain was smiling at him as he entered the room. When he smiled back, she put the back of her hand against her forehead, which made her look like a damsel in distress from one of those old Hollywood movies. “You came for me,” she exclaimed in an awful fake southern accent. “My hero!”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. Elain was wearing black leggings and an oversized shirt. Her hair was gathered into a ponytail. She was beautiful, Azriel thought to himself as he sat down in the leather chair, giving her all the space she needed on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Madja said that it seems to be a mild ankle sprain, and I should be up and running in like one to two weeks. Honestly, I feel more stupid than anything else.”

“Why?” Azriel asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to cancel our date. And who falls out of the shower? I really am the clumsiest person in Velaris,” she joked. “Yesterday, I dropped a full cup of coffee over my new, white shirt. And the day before that, I poked my friend Nuala in the eye with a flower.”

“You… poked her in the eye with a flower?”

Elain laughed. “Yes. Her eye was red for hours.”

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Azriel thought that he could drown in those eyes. He wanted her to look at him forever.

But he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you want me to leave? I could just leave the food here with you.”

Elain bit her inner cheek, suddenly looking very nervous. “Would you...Didn’t you buy food for yourself?”

“I did. But I don’t have to eat with you if you want to be alone.”

“I…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be alone.” It was barely a whisper.

“So, you want me to stay?”

Elain nodded, a lovely pink color spreading across her cheeks.

“Okay.” Azriel unpacked the sushi from the bag and offered her a choice of drinks. “We have lemon, elderflower, and regular coke. I didn’t know what you preferred.”

“Elderflower, please.”

She was still blushing. Azriel couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or just nervous.

Azriel handed her the drink and opened the coke for himself.

Elain sat up slowly and reached for her chopsticks. Since she had to sit with her leg raised, she couldn’t exactly lean over the coffee table, so Azriel placed the sushi on a pillow in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said and put a few pillows behind her back. From where he sat, he could only see the back of Elain’s head now. He wanted to move the chair so he could look at her, but he didn’t want to come off as creepy.

And he was actually quite happy that they couldn’t see each other when she took a bite of her food and let out a sigh. It was just a sigh, but somehow it was the most erotic sound Azriel had ever heard. He blushed and made a point of looking at his food.

“God, this is so good, Azriel. Thank you. I was really hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Lunch,” she said under her breath and took another bite of sushi. Azriel looked at his watch. She hadn’t eaten in more than seven hours. And she was going to make instant ramen if he hadn’t shown up. Suddenly, he felt a bit better about the situation.

When Azriel looked up from his food, Elain was looking at him over her shoulder.

“Is this weird?” she asked. “Is it weird that I asked you to stay? I know it isn’t fun…”

“I kind of remember that I was the one who asked for your address, and then showed up at your doorstep with food. I promise that I wouldn't have done that if I didn’t want to. If anything, I’m weird for showing up like this.”

She laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “No, you’re not weird. You’re kind. I’m just not used to this.”

Azriel frowned. “Not used to what? Kindness?”

Elain looked away, but Azriel didn’t miss the slight nod. “My ex never came over when I was sick. He said that I was boring and that he had better things to do…”

Azriel felt his hands curl into fists. “Is this the same ex that cheated on you and now leaves hate on your videos?” he gritted out.

Another nod. “Yes. But there has been almost no hate since you helped me block those words.” She smiled at him, and he could tell that she wanted to change the subject.

“That’s good to hear.”

Azriel wanted nothing more than to ask where this asshole lived so he could go and kick his ass, but he tried to act civil for Elain’s sake.

“I’m sorry for talking about him,” she said. “You should never talk about exes on dates and…” Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. “Not that this is a date or anything,” she corrected herself. “I mean, it would be a pretty shitty date.”

She was flustered, and Azriel couldn’t hide the big grin on his face. She was so cute.

“Elain. Do you want this to be a date?”

“Do you?”

He knew that she needed to hear him say it. “Yes.”

A shy smile played on her face. “Me too.”

“Then it’s settled. This is our first date,” Azriel declared.

Elain’s smile grew. “So there’s a chance for more dates?”

“Don’t be greedy,” Azriel teased. Elain stuck out her tongue and turned around again, facing her food.

I want to taste that tongue, Azriel thought.

Damn those intrusive thoughts.

“I can’t believe that I’m wearing leggings on our first date.”

Azriel didn’t say anything to that. He could complain about anything that tight.

God, what was wrong with his brain tonight?

“You look so good, and I look like this,” she pointed at her hair. “I had even bought a new dress for tonight.”

This piqued Azriel’s interest. “Really? Tell me what it looks like and I can imagine you in it.”

Or out of it.

Stupid fucking brain.

Elain pointed somewhere behind Azriel. “Well, it’s right there.”

On a door that Azriel assumed led to her bedroom, hung a blue dress.

Cobalt blue.

His favorite color.

He grinned and pulled up one pant leg and showed her his sock “We would have matched.”

Elain let out a heartfelt laugh, which made Azriel all warm inside. He loved seeing her happy. He liked knowing that he was the reason for said happiness.

“I didn’t take you for a man that wears colorful socks,” she said, still laughing. “First Barbie Girl, and now colorful socks. I’m starting to think that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

There was a stretch of silence again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. Even though they didn’t know each other well yet, Azriel could already tell that Elain was one of those people that he just instantly could relax around.

“Elain, this might be a weird request. But can I move this chair so I’m not staring at the back of your head?”

Elain turned around, cheeks pink again. “Yes,” she answered quickly, almost as if she had thought about the same thing.

He picked up the chair and quickly moved it to the other side of the couch. When he met Elain’s gaze, she was staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?”

“You’re strong.”

Azriel scratched his neck and laughed nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, I work out.”

Wow, what a stupid fucking answer.

But Elain didn’t seem to mind. No, she was looking at him more intently now, and her eyes were not focusing on his face anymore. No, they were most definitely looking at his chest. “I can tell,” she said playfully. This felt very much like flirting,

Azriel wondered what she would think of the tattoos covering his skin underneath the shirt.

Azriel tried to remember the conversation topics he had written down on his phone, and after a few minutes, they were talking as if they had known each other for years. Azriel was surprised that she was so easy to talk to. Most of the time, he struggled with social situations. But with Elain, he felt comfortable. At ease.

“You’re very easy to talk to,” he told Elain. She rewarded him with a smile.

“So are you. It feels like we have known each other forever. I never thought that someone that slid into my DM’s would ever be this nice.”

At those words, Nesta’s face popped into Azriel’s mind. He should tell Elain that he knows Nesta. If it wasn’t for her, he would never have known that Elain lived in Velaris. If it wasn’t for Nesta, he wouldn’t have happened to run past her store that morning.

“I have a confession to make,” he said before he could change his mind.

Elain raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to get me to join a cult.”

“Has that happened before?”

Elain shrugged. “More often than you think.”

“I’m not trying to get you to join a cult. I just… I wanted to tell you that I think that we have some mutual friends.”

She didn’t look surprised, but she didn’t say anything either, so Azriel continued.

“You know Nesta, right? I think you went to college together…”

Elain nodded.

“Well, she’s getting married to my best friend Cassian. I didn’t know that you knew them when I wrote to you, I promise. But it felt weird pretending like we don’t have people in common when we do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I found out last week when Nesta saw one of your videos on my phone and asked me if I was a stalker.”

Azriel was blushing now. He was expecting silence, or maybe questions. But instead, he was met with laughter.

“She thought you were a stalker?”

Azriel shrugged, unable to find any good words.

“Well, I might also have a confession to make,” Elain announced. “I actually knew that you were friends with Nesta. That’s why I even answered your DM in the first place.”

“What?” Azriel couldn’t find better words than that.

“Yeah, when I scrolled through your Instagram I saw a photo from Rhysand’s and Feyre’s wedding, so I kind of figured out who you were then. Nesta had mentioned you once or twice before, so I knew you weren’t a creep. And then I saw that selfie when you were carrying a lasagna, and you looked so good, so I answered your DM.” Her blush had almost turned a deep red.

Azriel couldn’t help but grin. “You answered because I looked hot? You said that the lasagna looked tasty…”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Want to hear another confession?”

Azriel nodded.

“Well, I kind of understood how to block words from the link you sent me, but I really wanted to talk to you more.”

Azriel’s mouth fell open in pretend shock. “Sneaky girl.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I just…”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Azriel interrupted. “Do you want to hear another of my confessions?”

“Yes, please.”

Azriel put his elbows in his knees and leaned forward. He could tell that her eyes went to his biceps. Good.

“Well, when I first saw one of your videos, I thought that you might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Elain blushed even more, the color spreading to her chest. Not that Azriel was looking there.

“Really?”

“Yes. And when we talked on the phone, you know, that time when you lied about needing my help,” Azriel winked at her. “I hadn’t laughed that much in ages. I was so bummed because I thought that you lived on the other side of the country or something.”

“But I didn’t.” She smiled.

“You didn’t.” He smiled back.

They spent the entire night in Elain’s living room, just talking. Without even noticing it, a few hours went by. When they finished the sushi, Azriel made a snack buffet on the coffee table, which made Elain laugh.

“We are going to be so sick if we eat all of this.”

“Well, someone told me that she might be bedridden for more than a week, so maybe you could save some for the upcoming days of rest and relaxation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said and reached for the popcorn.

They continued flirting for the rest of the evening, but nothing explicit happened. They didn’t touch. Didn’t kiss. They just talked. It was all Azriel could have dreamt of. He had never felt so comfortable so quickly with anyone before. When it was close to midnight, he could tell that Elain was getting tired. After her fifth yawn, Azriel told her that he should probably get going.

She protested and then yawned again.

“Okay, I admit defeat,” she said and stretched. Azriel could see her stomach when her shirt rode up from the motion. It looked so wonderful and soft and…

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought, because Elain was trying to stand up by herself. Trying, and failing miserably.

“Could you help me to the bathroom?” she whispered and nodded to a white door just by the kitchen.

“Of course,” Azriel put his arm around her waist and supported her. She didn’t complain, but he could see the pain on her face. It hurt him to see her like this.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Don’t go just yet.” She closed the door. Azriel leaned against the wall next to the door and dragged his hands through his hair.

He looked around the room, not quite believing that he was here. In Elain’s home.

This date had been even better than he could ever have imagined. He was actually quite happy that they hadn’t gone out, but he obviously didn’t like that the reason for staying home was that she was hurt.

The door opened again, and Elain looked at Azriel with a pale face. She was so obviously in pain. Azriel grabbed her around the waist again and held her up.

“Do you have any painkillers?”

She nodded. “By the bed. Could you help me? Just to the door.”

Azriel started leading the way, but after two steps Elain winced.

Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. “Hold on,” he warned her, and then he picked her up. She gasped and flung her arms around his neck. This was the closest they had ever been. One of his fingers graced the hem of her shirt. He could feel her skin there. He had to take a deep breath. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she breathed, and he walked her to her room. He stopped at the door. It was a cozy bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue and above her bed hung a giant painting with a floral motif in a gold frame.

“Nice room,” he said. He didn’t put her down. She had said that she only needed help to the door, but he couldn’t see her walking to her bed all by herself,

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to...” he started, but he was interrupted when Elain said his name.

“Azriel,” she repeated.

He looked at her then, her face just inches from his. He could see every freckle on her skin. He could count every eyelash. His eyes went to her plush lips, and then back to her eyes.

Had she noticed?

She had his attention now.

“Azriel,” she whispered. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Azriel was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question. He didn’t mind, of course not. he was just surprised. She could probably see that in his eyes, because she quickly tried to smooth over it. “I mean, we don’t have to. I completely understand if you don’t want to, and I..”

Azriel kissed her temple to make her quiet. It worked very well. “You’re hurt.”

“Just my ankle,” Elain pouted. “Also, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘kiss it better’?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that it means that you should kiss the place that hurts,” he teased.

“Eh, semantics. I think a kiss on the lips might do wonders.”

Azriel leaned in, almost touching his lips to her. Almost. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased.

“Mhm,” she breathed.

Azriel stayed like that for a while, his lips just out of reach. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her to go crazy with want. With need.

But that was for another time. Right now, he just needed to kiss her.

Elain was tilting her head to get closer to him. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes scanned his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

Azriel leaned in slowly and brushed his lips to hers. It was a feathery light touch. He could feel Elain shiver in his arms, and he held her closer. Tighter. He touched her lips with his again, and he knew he needed more. He tasted her lips once more, his tongue teasing her lower lip. Elain opened up for him, letting him in. She moaned when he deepened the kiss. When he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. When her tongue joined his. They were both panting, unable to stop. Elain’s hands went to Azriel’s hair, gently scraping his scalp while her tongue tangled with his. The sensation made Azriel crazy, and if she hadn’t been injured he would have lowered her to the bed and continued his kisses down her body until she was writhing underneath him, begging for more.

But she was hurt. And it was late.

Unwillingly, Azriel slowed down before breaking the kiss.

“More,” Elain panted and kissed his jaw.

Azriel chuckled. “Don’t be greedy.”

She pouted when he walked over to her bed, and it was the cutest pout Azriel had ever seen. It was so cute in fact, that he had to lean in again and kiss her lower lip. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was suddenly sitting on Elain’s bed with her in his lap. He was still holding her tight, her fingers still in his hair. Their lips were locked in another kiss. This one was even hotter. Even deeper. Azriel thought to himself that he didn’t need air if he could just taste these lips for the rest of his life.

After a small eternity, they did have to break apart though. Turns out the human body needs air. Stupid body.

Elain leaned her forehead against his.

“I should go,” Azriel said, even though every fiber of his being protested that statement.

She nodded. “Okay.” She was still out of breath. So was he.

Elain kissed his forehead, which made him feel oddly safe. “So, can I have a second date?”

Azriel chuckled and nuzzled her neck. She smelled divine. He wanted nothing more than to taste her there; just below her ear.

“You can have as many dates as you want.”

“Good to know.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths, Azriel helped Elain into bed. He fetched her a glass of water for the painkillers and made sure that all her windows were closed.

He leaned against her doorframe, trying to memorize the sight of her in bed. She looked so cute. So vulnerable.

“Could you lock the door when you leave? My keys are on the kitchen counter. You can just put them in the mailbox.”

“Of course.” Azriel walked into her room again and leaned over her. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Sleep well, Elain.”

“You too, Azriel.”

She was already drifting off.

Azriel walked quietly through the apartment and made sure that the door was locked behind him.

Azriel was walking home on clouds that evening.

In his bones, he could feel that this was the start of something wonderful.

When he climbed into bed that night, he saw a new message from Elain. She must have sent it just after he left her place. He opened the message, and there was no text. Just an audio file.

He pressed play and was immediately met with her heavenly voice.

“I thought that this might help you sleep,” Elain whispered, and Azriel could feel tingles up and down his spine. “Thank you for a wonderful date, Azriel.”

And then she repeated his name. For five minutes, she was whispering “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel,” over and over again, and it made Azriel both sleepy and aroused.

It was actually a very pleasant feeling, he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

That night, he dreamt about brown eyes, golden hair, and the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. Azriel had never felt better.

[dokoni-mo]

Where Is My Friend || Platonic! Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: You and Izuku walk home together.

SFW // angst to light fluff

Word Count: 1915

WARNINGS: swearing, crying, all might slander, allusions to su*cide, otherwise none

A/N: i hate all might as a teacher. sometimes i just wanna reach through the screen and punch him for the things he tells izuku to do. this is why i made this.

~~

Izuku was late again that day, and this time you were more disappointed than mad.

With each student that passed by you and through the gates, you grew more and more irritated. You were trying to hide your annoyed expression by burying it in your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the various apps you had downloaded. Every now and again, you would check through your messages again, double and triple checking that you hadn't somehow missed a text from Izuku.

Every time, there was nothing.

Your brow furrowed when you checked it for the fifth time, forcing you to let out a silent frustrated sigh.

Izu, are you ready to go?

I'm out front

Are you still coming?

Hellloooo??? Where are you???

You promised, Izuku.

All of these messages, and no reply.

This wasn't a new occurrence. Every single day it was like this, and you would oftentimes just go home alone in silence. Izuku would always call and text to apologize to you afterwards, though.

At first you would pick up the phone. But, it slowly became less and less, to eventually nothing at all.

You were angry for a long time, but it all eventually boiled down into a soft, quiet frustration. You wondered to yourself a lot why you even bothered trying anymore. Those thoughts eventually drifted off into memories of middle school, and that quiet, timid, nerdy boy that you made your best friend.

You wondered where that boy went.

You looked up from your phone and looked at the campus around you. The area was bathed in an orange light, giving everything a warm and cozy glow. It was a beautiful spring afternoon, one that you would unfortunately most likely spend alone. Looking back down at your phone, you checked the time. It was getting somewhat late, and you knew your parents would start to worry about you if you didn't head back soon.

Five more minutes. You would give him five more minutes.

Letting out another sigh through your nose, you continued to scroll through your apps, not paying too close attention to what you were seeing. Every other second, you would peer up at the top of the screen, hoping to see the familiar bar of a notification up there.

None ever came.

A handful of photos and news articles later, and you decided to call it a quits. It had been more than five minutes, and there was still no sign of Izuku. Not one single thing.

Fuck it. You were going home.

Clicking your phone to sleep and putting it in your jacket pocket, you squared your backpack on your shoulders and stepped down the stairs of the front entrance, staring ahead at the gate with a blank expression.

Going to U.A. was you and his dream as kids. You remembered how the two of you would draw pictures of your hero costumes together, how you would spend hours of the phone coming up with the ideal schedule the two of you would have and what classes you would take.

Where did all that go? All those late nights? All those days the two of you got bullied? All those times you would tell Bakugou to fuck off when he was mean to Izuku? All the times Izuku told you to be nicer to Kacchan?

Was it all for nothing?

Were you just a memory now?

Were you not good enough to be his friend anymore?

All because of his new quirk?

It's not fair.

Not fair.

Not fair.

Not fai-

"Y/N!" you heard a voice from behind you shout, along with the rapid tapping of shoes against concrete.

It was him.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, looking at him with a somewhat surprised expression. His green hair was the usual mess, and he was somewhat sweatier than normal. He ran quickly to catch up with you, breathing heavily once he was by your side.

You looked down at him in silence, your face unchanging.

"I'm-I'm so sorry I'm late!" He exclaimed, getting better control over his breathing, "I-I was just taking off my costume after hero training today and one of the teachers wanted to talk to me after and I-"

"It's getting late." You said, cutting him off, "We should get going."

You started to walk towards the gate again, and Izuku stared at you with a somewhat confused expression.

"Right..." he responded quietly, following by your side.

The two of you walked in silence for a good, long while. Izuku would keep looking at you to try and grab your attention, but you ignored him every time. You kept your gaze trained on your feet on the sidewalk, his red shoes in your peripheral.

You didn't want to talk. You just wanted to go home.

Go home and never talk to anyone again.

Izuku tried giving you one of his bright, warm smiles, but you ignored that too. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Izuku didn't smile the same anymore. There was something always behind his smile, something that you couldn't quite figure out.

The two of you used to share everything together, and now he was doing nothing but keeping secrets from you. You were quick to notice this, and you began to do your own digging.

You were observant, you always had been.

What you saw, you knew no one would believe you, though.

You just kept it to yourself, leaving it to rot deep inside you and plant its seeds of bad.

It was eating you alive, and you were angry.

"It's uhh..." Izuku said next to you, "It's a pretty day outside, isn't it?"

You said nothing and just kept staring down at your feet.

"It was a fun day at school too, huh?"

Nothing.

"What class did you like most?" I really liked Mr. Aizawa's today. I like it when he tells stories about his time at U.A."

Nothing.

"I also really liked All Might's cla-"

"Don't."

Izuku was definitely taken aback by your sudden, harsh response, his smile instantly fading away and his brows arching downwards.

"What... (Y/N), wh-what do you mean-"

You stopped walking abruptly, giving Izuku a glare through your lashes.

"Do not mention that man."

Izuku stopped walking too, looking at you with confusion and a touch of shock.

"You mean All Might? (Y/N), why? I thought you loved him as much as I-"

"I don't fucking love him anymore, Izuku!" you snapped, "But how would you know, huh? HOW?"

"(Y/N), what are you saying?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Izuku!" you threw your backpack off your shoulders, the extra weight only adding to your fury, "Even before we got into this shitty fucking school, you've done nothing but fucking blow me off and ignore me! I try to call, you don't answer. I try to text, you don't answer. I go over to your fucking house looking for you, and you're not there either! Do you have any clue how fucking lonely that makes me feel?! Knowing my best friend, my ONLY friend, wants nothing to do with me?!"

Izuku slid off his backpack too, his expression now more worried than anything, "(Y/N), I wasn't trying to ignore you. I-I just-"

"Just what Izuku. Just where have you been, hm? Tell me."

The green haired boy's gaze fell to the ground.

"I... I can't."

You raised your hands up and let them drop to your sides, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out of your throat.

"Fine, I'll finish it for you. You've been hanging out with fucking All Might, haven't you?"

Izuku's gaze shot back up to you, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

"Ah- don't even goddamn try. I know you have been, Izuku. Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Do you think I'm fucking naieve? I fucking see how you two talk to each other. How you have lunch with him every goddamned fucking day. How he always focuses on you during training. How he keeps you after school."

Izuku just simply looked at you in silence, trying to process what to say.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you decided to continue anyway, "And I know, I know he's been putting shit in your head. Not letting you think for yourself, telling you that it's okay to hurt yourself. How it's noble and honorable to be bedridden for fucking weeks to save people. How you should never prioritize yourself. Well goddamn it it's WRONG Izuku! It's fucking wrong! It's wrong to tell a kid that. It's wrong to take him away from his friends. It's wrong to have fucking favorites!"

You were full on crying now, and probably looked completely out of your goddamned mind.

You didn't care.

"He was my hero too, Izuku!" you continued on, hot tears pouring down your face, "But more importantly you were my hero! You were the only person in that shitty fucking middle school that I could confide in. You were the only friend I had, and that fucking bitch took you from me! Every day I go home and beg for my friend to come back to me. I don't give a single fuck what that old man says, I need my friend back! I'm so tired of it! I'm tired of feeling like nothing, like no one wants to be around me anymore! I'm t-tired, I'm... I...."

Unable to keep yourself together anymore, you fell onto your knees and sat back on your ankles, wiping your face on the back of your hands and wrists as you sobbed.

"I just... I miss you, Izuku."

You broke down again after that, crying there on the ground for a good minute. This was probably embarrassing the hell out of you, but you didn't care anymore. You didn't care about anything anymore. You were certain that Izuku would want nothing to do with you anymore. You just both dissed him and his number one idol.

There was no hope for you and him now.

After sitting there for a good minute bawling your eyes out, Izuku gently knelt down in front of you. You could feel his big, green eyes on your face, but you didn't look up at him. From your blurred vision, you couldn't tell how he was looking at you, but you figured it couldn't be good.

You were wrong.

Suddenly and without warning, you felt two strong arms wrap around your fame, your head being pulled into a chest covered with a uniform shirt and tie. Your cries softening, you were quick to realize who they all belonged to.

Izuku.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice soft but firm, "I didn't know you felt that way. You are my best friend, too. I didn't mean to forget about you. I was never trying to make you feel that way."

Izuku hugged you tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"From now on, I promise I'll always make time for you. You're my hero too, (Y/N). Without you with me in middle school, I... I would have..."

You didn't need to hear him finish for you to connect the dots.

After along moment of fleeting, renowned silence, you wrapped your arms around the boy, holding him tight against you.

You vowed to yourself then and there, that you would never ever let him go again.

[ineedrelationshipadvice]

i wanted some help on how to be less jealous and insecure in my relationship, my partner is always reassuring me but since my past relationships have caused my brain to shift to have these insecurities I don’t know how to undo them, I get jealous at the silliest things like them being cuddly and sweet to their friends since every past relationship I’ve had Ive always got left for my partner’s best friend, if that makes sense so I can’t help but think it’ll happen again, and I just want to change

These feelings of jealousy are, surprisingly, more on the healthy end. It is my view that jealousy, generically, is not a healthy emotion, as it brings a lot of negative feelings from deep inside you to the surface. But let's be frank: EVERYBODY GETS JEALOUS. It's a natural human emotion, and eventually, we're all going to feel jealous about something.

That's why I say this particular brand of jealousy that you're experiencing here is as healthy as you'll ever see it. Why are you feeling jealousy? Firstly, YOU KNOW THE ANSWER, because you've explained it to me, which is very mature. You've explained that your jealousy comes as a result of really shitty past relationships. It's basically like a weird, emotional PTSD sort of situation that you're dealing with, where past actions FEEL similar to current actions being taken by your partner. And you're also able to distinguish that when your partner is being cuddly and sweet to their friends, that this isn't a bad situation, and it's not a threatening situation. But you FEEL threatened, you FEEL upset by it. It's that monkey-brain that's just like "THIS BAD ME NO LIKEY" and then influencing all your emotions. It's irrational and not controllable, and that's okay, because you definitely seem to understand that, and that's a lot more mature and self-actualized than most people will ever see in their own emotions.

Okay, that's a lot of talk, but how do you stop feeling these things?

The first thing is probably the answer you don't want to hear. But therapy. You should consider seeking out a therapist. It's not surprise that everyone could probably benefit from seeking out and talking to a therapist about their issues. It'd fix a whole lot of things. But if you're concerned about the validity and stability of your relationship due to perceived jealousy tendencies, and you know that these are caused by past relationships, and also don't know how to get over those emotions yourself, that's A+ time to consider entering into therapy, if all other things permit.

Okay, but let's say you have a therapist already, or you can't afford it, or don't want it. What do?

The best tactic that can be used is to single out your jealousy in the moment. When you FEEL that jealousy creeping in, SAY IT TO YOURSELF. Say it out loud for extra emphasis. Tell yourself, "What I am feeling right now is jealousy. This is a feeling, and this feeling will pass, so stay calm." Because that is the real key, when that emotion begins to well up, not letting the emotion consume us is the big key. Stay calm, stay level-headed, and remind yourself that the feeling will pass, and you'll be better after a moment.

Semi-related, but consider trying meditation tools for this. Meditation doesn't work for everyone (myself included), but it's definitely a valuable skill, and I've learned a lot of lessons in controlling my emotions from meditation techniques that I've learned. There's lots of cool apps for meditation, so consider downloading one that suits you and learn from it a bit.

The other thing that you can do related to your jealousy is not only express your feelings to yourself, but also to your partner. Does your partner know about your relationship past? Does your partner know you get jealous? Relationship are a two-way street, and if your partner is unaware that these feelings are going through you, or that little actions that they're taking are upsetting you on some weird, visceral level, then they may be accidentally triggering your jealousy without even realizing it. Make sure you express your feelings, and when you're unhappy, so that your partner can do their best to recorrect or change course to make sure you're being properly taken care of.

Either way, this is most certainly a long-term problem, which is why I emphasize that if you believe that this is an issue that is affecting you or your relationship, that therapy is definitely the best option. You're in a good place to notice this issue in the way that you're able to think about things. But I'm just a random dude on the internet, and I can only help you so much, and your partner can only do so many things to keep you complacent. What is actual healing from jealousy and past emotional trauma is therapy, so please, by all means consider it as a very viable and helpful option for your continued emotional growth.

[punmasterkentparson]

Was Your Date Successfully Crashed?

inspiration from this shitty idea post.

It’s on ao3.

Kent is incapable of going on a good date.

He tries. For the last year, he has tried. Tinder and OK Cupid and even eHarmony for a bit, although the subscription rate was ridiculous. It doesn’t matter; his dates always go wrong.

There was the guy who showed up to dinner and said, “Sorry, I already ate, but it’s cool if you want to order something.”

There was the woman who ran into her ex and spent twenty minutes chatting with him while Kent just stood there.

There was the guy who took Kent to a carnival and had a meltdown over a ring toss game.

There was the woman who got up during a movie and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom, be right back!” and never came back.

There was the guy who was late and kept texting excuses for over an hour before ultimately sending, “can’t make it, sorry, something came up.”

There was the woman who invited Kent to a house party and then spent the whole time ignoring him in favor of talking to other people, and then had the audacity to call the next day asking for a second date.

And now there’s this guy, Henry, the son of a friend of Kent’s great-aunt, which means Kent is honor-bound to give him a shot. But Kent already knows there won’t be a second date. Conversation is excruciating; Henry gives single-word answers to everything and barely elaborates. When their food arrives, Henry sends his plate back twice with cosmetic complaints. Kent talks about his job as a personal trainer and the night classes he’s taking to be a physical therapist, and halfway through, Henry takes out his phone and starts scrolling.

Kent endures another five minutes and three bites of his steak before he can’t take it. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he says abruptly, and flees for the men’s room.

Hidden in a stall, he grinds his teeth and wishes he was the sort of asshole who would ditch in the middle of a date and leave his companion to foot the bill. He also wishes he wasn’t afraid of what Great Aunt Ruth would say if he did that.

He just really wishes he had an excuse to cut the date short. He shoots off a text.

jeff, help.

bad date? dude i told u to get off tinder

not tinder. blind date. son of a friend of aunt ruth or something.

oh shit. yeah ur stuck.

fuck u i’m in hell. can you call me in five minutes with some work emergency?

uh, no, ‘cause i’m at my niece’s bat mitzvah and my sister would kill me? she’s already glaring ‘cause i’m talking to you!

then what tf do i do???

suck it up.

no wait!!! carl told me about this app last week. i ignored him cause, u know, carl, but maybe u can try it? it’s called hinder. it’s like tinder but instead of finding ppl to date, u find ppl to CRASH ur date.

... that cant be a real thing.

nah i just checked the app store, it’s real. lmfao these reviews are hilarious.

Kent opens the app store on his phone and searches “Hinder.” There’s only one matching result. Hinder: We’ll ruin your date so you don’t have to.

Oh, what the hell, he’s desperate. He downloads it. The main menu is similar to all other dating apps he’s used, although he finds that he doesn’t get to choose a particular person to bust in on his date, he can only make a request. Apparently, it depends on availability. Whatever. Kent ticks as many preference boxes as he can. He hesitates when he gets to scenarios: Ex-partner, Ex-spouse, Spouse, Mistress, Friend, Other.

He checks everything. Again: he’s desperate. He’ll take someone pretending to be a jealous spouse if it gets him out this.

The last step is adding a photo of himself, so his date-crasher can recognize him. Kent takes an awkward selfie and posts it. He realizes too late that it’s obvious he’s sitting on a toilet in a bathroom stall.

Fuck it. 

He spends a total of ten minutes in the bathroom. When he gets back to the table, he’s pretty sure that Henry thinks he was taking the world’s biggest shit.

“Sorry,” he says. “What were we talking about again?” He honestly doesn’t remember.

Henry taps a few things on his phone and puts it aside, then reclaims his fork from his plate. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. Um.” Kent wracks his brain for something, anything. “Seen any good movies lately?”

Henry shrugs. “I don’t really go to the movies.”

“What about on Netflix?”

“I have Hulu.”

What Kent wouldn’t give for a bolt of lightning to strike him dead. “Well, I don’t have Hulu. I’ve thought about getting it, though. Can you recommend anything?”

Henry thinks about it. “Everything on there’s pretty good.” He takes a bite of broccoli.

Kent picks up his own fork and digs into his steak. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can go.

He almost chokes when a loud voice suddenly shouts his name across the restaurant.

“Kent! Kent, you here?”

Kent chugs water to clear his throat, then turns around in his seat. There’s a tall man with broad shoulders and a long face trying to get past the hostess.

“No, no, I’m not want table,” the man says, “just need find—Kent!” He spots Kent and hurries over. “Kent, have to go now!”

Kent stares at him, mouth agape. Everyone in the restaurant is staring.

“Kent, come on, have to go! She’s have babies!”

Kent manages, “I... I don’t know—”

“Your dog! Remember? You ask me watch because she pregnant! She’s have babies right now! I try text and call but maybe you don’t get, so I come! Oh, sorry,” the guy adds, finally acknowledging Henry, who looks as befuddled as Kent feels. “Sorry, I know it’s date, but is important, you know?”

“Um,” Henry says.

“We go, right, Kent?” And then the guy turns fully towards Kent, his back to Henry, and gives Kent a big, meaningful wink. “Yes? We go now, for dog?”

Everything abruptly clicks. Kent shoots to his feet. “Yes. Yes, we should absolutely go. Henry, I’m sorry, but it’s um—it’s an emergency.” He digs through his wallet, thankful that he has cash with him, and puts a few twenties on the table. “I think that’ll cover it.”

Henry frowns. “I thought you had a cat?”

Kent is frankly shocked that Henry was listening to him. “Yeah, uh, I have a cat and a dog. And I guess I’m gonna have more dogs.”

“Oh. Congratulations?”

“Thanks! Dinner was great, thanks for everything, see you!”

Kent grabs his jacket and pulls it on as he leaves the restaurant, with a total stranger hot on his heels. He doesn’t stop until they’re outside and halfway across the parking lot.

Only then does Kent turn to his rescuer. “I, uh, take it you answered my Hinder post?” he asks.

The guy grins. “Yes! I’m Alexei, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand. “Sorry is confusing for you, I send message but you don’t respond, so I’m wing it.”

Kent laughs and shakes Alexei’s hand. “I’m Kent Parson. And don’t worry about it, you’re my hero. Thanks for saving me.”

“Is no problem!” Alexei keeps smiling, big and friendly. “I’m enjoy. Two months ago I’m start taking improv class for fun, you know? Join Hinder for practice, can be new character every time.”

Kent is impressed. “The practice is paying off. You were really convincing.”

Alexei beams. “Is because story not so much lie. Pregnant dog is my dog, Darya. But she’s not have babies until maybe next month. Improv class say it’s good use little bit your life, easier for make up story on the spot.”

“Oh, good trick. And congrats, I guess, for your dog.”

“Thank you! She’s very good girl, think she be great mama.” Alexei’s voice is full of pride. “You need me see you home?”

Surprise at the unexpected consideration makes Kent fumble. “No, I’m—I’m good. I drove. My car’s over there.” He points. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m come with friends. We having dinner over there.” He points to a bar up the road, his expression turning bashful. “Actually I’m little bit rude, leave them suddenly. But I get notification and see you’re close by, and think you look like nice guy who don’t deserve bad date. You know?” His smile is embarrassed but earnest. 

Kent’s face feels warm. This guy ditched his friends just to help him? “Well. Thanks.”

Alexei nods, still smiling. “Hope your next date go better. Go home safe, yeah?”

“Sure.” Kent waves after Alexei as he leaves, and then goes to his car. He opens the Hinder app and sees a message notification of Crash Accepted! on his post. It leads to Alexei’s profile, which just has his name, a counter for Dates Crashed (7) and a picture of him giving a big smile and a thumbs up.

There’s a banner prompt at the top, asking, Was your date successfully crashed? Kent selects YES, and Alexei’s Dates Crashed counter automatically ticks up to eight.

Kent grins, closes the app, and pulls up his earlier conversation with Jeff.

date officially over.

Jeff sends a thumbs up.

thanks for the hinder thing, it saved my ass.

someone showed up?

yeah.

and????

two words: tall & russian.

tell. me. everything.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’m gonna love you ‘til my lungs give out

In which there’s a two week old baby, a midnight feeding and a conversation about fatherhood.

read on ao3

It’s been fourteen days and Jake just doesn’t get babies.

Well, he gets most things. He gets how his own daughter is the best one of them all, he gets how she’s the greatest thing to happen to him and Amy (and probably Charles) ever and how everything she does from eating to burping to yawning is second to none when it comes to level of adorableness. He gets how to change her clothes and diapers and how to give her a bath, how to make sure a bottle is the perfect temperature and the crucialness of always having a cloth on his shoulder after she’s eaten to avoid staining all his clothing with baby spit-up. Yeah, he’s kind of feeling like a genius with all the new knowledge he’s gained after his first fourteen days of fatherhood.

What he doesn’t get is how a person that small can be so loud.

This kid barely weighs eight pounds yet, there’s really no way her lungs should be that powerful, and yet they are. With a little more than two hours having passed since she last ate he’s narrowed the reason for the noise down to hunger, which is why he’s currently trying to navigate the kitchen in almost-darkness with a screaming newborn on one arm while the other arm works on handling a bowl of hot water, a baby bottle and a ziploc bag of pumped and pre-measured milk, praying the result will be enough to stop the infant’s dissatisfaction.

“Wrong parent, Lee”, he informs her as she claws with her hands at his left pec. “We’re letting your mom sleep right now. Look, you’ll get what you’re after in a minute. Almost done.” She remains unconvinced and he’s got to give it her, her tenacity is astounding, but he would be just a little more impressed if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she used said tenacity for anything other than screaming his ears off.

The screaming stops the moment she latches onto the bottle. It gives way to blissful silence save the sweet sounds of her snuffles while she drinks its contents, a soft hum from the refrigerator and the odd car driving by outside. He sits down in the sofa with her in his arms, turns on the floor lamp so they’re not in total darkness and finally allows himself to relax. It’s almost difficult not to. Not only does the fact that neither he nor Amy have slept more than two hours at a time since their daughter was born make sleep a tempting companion the moment he sits down, but there is also something inherently relaxing about the weight of Leah’s head resting in the crook of his right arm and the sight of her peaceful, content little face as he holds the bottle for her.

Yeah, he forgives her for the screaming earlier.

“Aww.” Amy’s familiar voice makes him turn his head for a moment. She’s in her pajamas with their floral comforter still wrapped around her, and she’s watching them with tears in her eyes. “You guys are the most adorable thing in the world .”

“You’re biased. And overly hormonal.” Jake snorts at the memory of her shedding tears to a fast food commercial yesterday. “But you’re pretty cute, too.”

“Rude!” She gasps, taking her place next to him in the couch.“I mean, it’s true, but it's still rude.”

“Why are you up anyway?”

“It was kind of hard to sleep.You could’ve just woken me up, you know?”

“Nah. You needed the rest.” He shakes his head and manages a tired smile which she reciprocates. “I wanted to try and see if I could be a good enough dad to calm her down.” Amy nods slowly, leaning over him to wipe away a few drops of milk trickling down their daughter’s tiny chin before giving Jake a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re the greatest dad in the world, okay? You don’t need to stress.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You think I do?”

“I don’t know”, he admits then, the sleep deprivation making it frighteningly easy to bare his soul right then and there. Leah’s finished the bottle, so he puts it down on the table and lifts her so she’s against his chest, her head on his shoulder and his hand supporting her head. “I know you’ve been a freaking superhero from the moment we found out you were pregnant, and I’ve just been… there. Doing nothing. What if that’s how it’ll always be? What if I’m as shitty a dad as mine was?” It’s not the first time he’s thought it, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

Amy’s silent for a few seconds. It feels longer, making him instantly regret what he said despite its veracity.

“Jake.” Her voice is soft, almost whispering when it returns.”First of all, you’re nothing like your dad. Don’t ever say that. Second of all, it's not like you could’ve been pregnant for me, or given birth for me. Third of all - you did so much. ”

“Like what? I wasn't the one throwing up every damn day for over a month. Or the one who did all the research on the best strollers and cribs and god knows what else. I wasn’t the one who grew a freaking human for nine months with pain and exhaustion and lots of other disgusting stuff those apps told me way too much about. I mean, besides the obvious contribution of knocking you up, I did nothing.”

“You can be so annoying sometimes.” Amy shakes her head and clears her throat like she’s getting ready for an important briefing. “Here’s what you did, dumbass; You were there. You literally barely left my side. You ran down to the third floor five times a day to make sure I was okay when I was feeling sick, even after that. You downloaded pregnancy apps and came to every single appointment with me. You read three parenting books somehow. You listened to my research and you didn't smack me in the head when I was whining or spiralling. Remember that day when I stayed home from work because I was feeling terrible, and you came home with so much ice cream it barely fit in our freezer and the cutest little jumpsuit even though it was way too early to buy clothes? Or the day I wouldn't stop crying because I was tired of everything and you dragged me out to buy that? ” She points to the light grey pajamas with rainbow hearts Leah is wearing. “You were a goddamn dream partner. Stop worrying.”

“Hmm.” He’s blushing, feeling lectured by his wife’s composed words. It’s difficult not to trust her when she uses her most authoritarian sergeant’s voice; he understands very well why her beat cops trail her so willingly.  “Thanks?”

“And you’ve been glued to her for these two weeks”, she continues. “It’s the sweetest. And we’re still learning, but you’ve got this. We’ve got this. Okay?” She squeezes his shoulder asking for confirmation, and he nods.

“I just don’t want her to hate me.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that milk-drunk little baby hates anyone right now.” Their daughter seems close to falling asleep in Jake’s arms again. She looks positively satisfied, slowly opening and closing her brown eyes and making the small grunts her parents have learned to identify as contentedness.“She’s not going to hate you, and I’d hold another argumentative speech about all the reasons why if I wasn’t dying to get some sleep.”

“Guess that makes three of us.”

“It’s a weird role switch”, he tells Amy when they’ve made their way back to the bed with a sleeping baby  in between them (safe in her babynest, they’re not rolling over and crushing her in her sleep thank you very much). “Me fretting about something. You calming me down. It’s usually the opposite.”

“Well, you’ve dealt with my anxiety for years. It’s got to be a two-way street sometimes.”

“I’m so happy I’m married to you”, he mumbles before closing his eyes.

“Happy I’m married to you too, dummy”, she mumbles back.

[violetbeachpod]

1x01 / twelve oh one

TERESA:

Okay, so–it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since–eight days, maybe? –well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was–Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s–that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve–the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down–My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh–anything else–I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually–it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

Anj, stop–stop listening in! You–you–dude, take a nap.

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

(long beat)

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but–

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet–we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like–those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but–I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in–you get my point–knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would–well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these–these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was–she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like–uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and–one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really–I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and–well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh–at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t–I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine–which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever–sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like–I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just–it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like–in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s–there’s a new moon tonight, so–well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh–oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like–being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before–

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company–like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at–well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant–

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said–wait, lemme find my journal–yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on–Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you–” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned–MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and–well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and–

As folks left–Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then–it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town–as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about–Blarvardgate.

I–I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and–Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a–a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was–well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so–AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,–blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s–it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and–

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but–

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed–and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but–it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in–in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like–could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles–it’s, like–it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess–I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple–the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me–

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but–

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this–this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and–I was still standing–more floating, which was–not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and–

And she said–

(beat, uncomfortable)

What did she say?

(laughs)

It’s–it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s–it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t–type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this–that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s–it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like–I never saw myself as a protagonist, or–any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this–now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the–I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz–he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but–

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m–I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but–This town, VB, it’s–it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not– the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but–Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we–we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well–the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or–his son’s the mayor, right?–Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But–my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or–or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m–I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.

[runningchanges-]

Things I’m stressed about currently:

Making sure I’m being put on projects at work. When I’m slow at work, and it seems like everyone around me is running around like crazy, I start to let this sick doubt creep in. I start to think that I’m being deliberately not given work to do. I start to think that the busy people are better engineers than me and I start to think that I’m falling behind. With every year older I get, I am learning that much of my self-worth and self-confidence is based off of my usefulness. When I can’t contribute to something, or when I feel as though I’m not being utilized, I get a tightness in my chest that is hard to describe. The worst days for me are the days I go home feeling unfinished. Unproductive. Some people may relish in those days where their list is empty and they can just fly under the radar. That’s like torture for me. I go home, I slump, I ruminate, I cry, I think about every single reason there could be for why I’m being ‘punished’ at work. It’s sick!

This all attributes back to my OCD and, honestly, what has been at the root of a lot of my stress lately: obsessive comparison; constant fear of failure. I’ve always thought of myself as “above the comparison game”. I’m confident. I’m competent. I’m successful! I’m right where I need to be. But honestly, my confidence isn’t where it needs to be right now. I’ll be the first to admit that I chase things for the wrong reasons sometimes. When I see that someone I know bought their first house, I let it affect me personally. Why can’t we afford a house yet and they can? Where have we gone wrong? What do I need to change? Quick, let’s plan an emergency meeting and budget the rest of our year down to the dollar. It’s toxic and so so damaging. But I do it almost every day. Oh, someone has better abs than me and I feel shitty? Better immediately download a workout app so I feel like I’m not falling behind.

I think lately I’ve had a lot of underlying anxiety and I can’t pinpoint exactly what’s causing it. I’ve been thinking it’s the stress of planning a wedding, work stress, family stress, financial stress. And these are all reasonable and applicable. But it goes deeper than this. It’s the ongoing state of “nothing is ever enough.” In trying to stay hungry I’ve starved myself. I’ve lost the love I have for me and what I’ve built. In the lamest of similes, I’ve forgotten how to stop and smell the roses.

This weekend I have no plans. Besides cleaning my room, cooking a bit, and working out, there is nothing on my calendar. I’m going to sit and be with myself. Have a little date with myself where I truly challenge myself to learn something new about me. Be kind to myself.

[geodesicinquiry]

Wow I'm posting on tumblr for the first time in years because no one follows me on here and I don't have any paper near me and I need to write. I was broken up with approximately four weeks ago from a relationship that lasted almost four years. I was certainly optimistic in my relationship but I believed we were in an ok spot. We were living in our second place together, we had a yard, lived near a bunch of dogs, and had two cats that were literally our lives. Looking back, I realized I was so fucking in love with you I didn't allow myself to put together the signs. We had sex maybe 7 times in the entirety of our most recent move in our house, that being almost 9 months. We shared less and less about our days, challenges, problems, etc. We always slept naked, though when you were on your period you would wear shorts. That last week you wore clothes to bed every fucking day. You barely made your presence known when you were home, which was pretty much only to sleep. I would cuddle and spoon you tightly, knowing that I would never have this with you again. You always said you wanted to sleep on your side, but that last week you turned your back to me in spite, sick of looking at my remarkably unappealing naked body, mouth-breathing stature, and obnoxiously loud snore. You wore that Bowie sweater and short shorts all week. I was trying to ignore this leading up to Wednesday, but I couldn't anymore. I took a shower because you were laying there not talking to me. I came back, turned the light off and put a Netflix show on. You were still up. No longer looking at your phone but still noticeably awake. About five minutes past, I looked over to you and began to have a panic attack. I was sobbing uncontrollably after 30 seconds, already accumulating an insane amount of snot. You tried to ignore it by pretending to be asleep. It got worse and worse, I was shaking so much from the anxiety, crying louder and wetter than I ever have before. You were still content on letting me suffer. After more time, I hugged you one last time, grasping at you, desperately trying to get you to elicit some type of emotion towards this situation. I wrapped around your head because I didn't know what else to do; you told me not to grab you like that. For the next hour, I sat completely naked in the bed, keeping myself in a ball, muscles so tense I believed they would snap, snot absolutely covering myself and the bedsheets, cry-heaving so hard I almost threw up several times. I tried to talk to you as you were listing off reasons why this is no longer working, I physically could not get myself to speak. You told me you had been with friends crying and telling them all you needed to break up with me. I'm not mad at you for this, you needed to do what was best for you. You told me had I not brought it up you were gonna break up with me AFTER YOU GOT BACK FROM YOUR FUCKING TRIP TO FRANCE. You were going to postpone this so you could have a worry free vacation and deal with my shitty ass when you got back. I'm sure you think that was some way of doing a favor to me but that is really fucked up, and I am mad at that. You still didn't show any emotion towards what was the worst panic attack of my entire life. I helped you through so many attacks within your life, I thought you out of all people would relate to the feeling I was currently feeling. You barely cried the whole time. At one point I mumbled something along the lines of I feel like I can't even touch you anymore. This was met with silence. I cried so much I was in physical pain. You went to the couch and fell asleep. I didn't sleep that night. I didn't sleep the night after either. I had two hours of sleep on the third day. I didn't eat until Friday evening. I immediately started smoking again and am back at roughly a pack every two days. I wanted to meet with you and talk about things, you kept postponing it. Eventually it happened, we met in the park by our (nope this is my house now) house. It was fucking weird. You said you were numb which is why you weren't showing much emotion. Personally I think that was not true, as your personality is extremely emotional. You never asked me how I was doing. I was going to show up smoking because the shitty part in me wants you to know how I'm doing. You couldn't even ask me that. I know our relationship was not without problem, but I viewed it as a combination of us slowing down and settling in, me being so FUCKING oblivious to these problems, and you not being able to express to me what is going on. I still don't fully know what was going on, because I don't think you actually expressed your true feelings for me. You messaged me halfway through your trip or so, pretending everything is ok, showing me this band you had seen the night before. I said it was cool, but I didn't even fucking listen to it. You blocked me from seeing your posts on Facebook. You didn't tell me you did this, and if I brought it up to you you'd get defensive and tell me it was for helping to separate or some shit. You could never fucking apologize about this kind of stuff. You got home earlier today so I am staying at my sisters house so you can recover from your plane ride. I asked you when you'd be back seeing if I needed to feed the cats. This interaction was fine. I left band practice after a cig and a short bike ride to my sisters house. I was feeling on edge all day knowing you're back in town, having the reality of this situation thrown back at me. Dealing with you moving out, dealing with us balancing our friends, dealing with us eventually having to pretend to be friends so our friend group doesn't have to alienate one of us. Being the pathetic piece of trash I am, I downloaded the tinder app to see what it was all about. I connected it to my Facebook, chose my least ugly photos, wrote a stupid bio, and linked my Spotify profile hoping for once someone be impressed with my musical taste. Tinder is pretty fucking dumb. I swipe left on two individuals, then you fucking appear. YOU HAVE A TINDER PROFILE. It's all set up with pictures of you from your trip and a silly bio about you paying more attention to someone's pets than them, with a sorry in parenthesis after that. Ultimately, this is an act I'm not mad at. You can do whatever the fuck you want to do, hell I felt some strange urge to download that shit hole myself. I'm mad that you have a tinder profile not even four weeks after breaking up with me, with two of the main reasons being you wanted to learn how to be more independent, and you wanted to be on your own, aka single. I don't believe these reasons anymore. Whether or not you actually use that fucking app, it's designed to make people become either attracted to each other enough to fuck, or enough to start seeing each other. I downloaded that fucking thing because I don't want to be alone, you told me you did. That's fucking me up so much right now, and I know if I talked to you about it you'd get defensive. You never saw my side in any of the arguments we had, instead you would call me stubborn and continue to retort. We had so much sex when we started dating. It was like a cliche fucking movie, that first six months or so was fucking remarkable. We never had a sexual dialogue though, we never talked about what the other wanted or what we wanted. This was true of our relationship in general. You were raped by our former very close friends, and that affected our relationship in a lot of ways. You were up and down so much, and I was with you and beside you the whole time. We didn't have a lot of sex after that incident, which was more than justified. I never pushed the issue with you on that. You went through something more tragic than I know I ever will, and it understandably affected your sex drive. We actually had a pretty good conversation about that, as we had gone almost five months without having sex. Sex isn't the solution to relationships but for me it's hard to be that intimate with someone without having sex from time to time. We talked a lot about this, reasonable talks where we both expressed and listened to each other. You even suggested I try and find someone to have sex with. At the time I couldn't think of ever doing that (haha monogamy), but I should've pursued that further. It would've opened a better line of communication between us without a doubt. I'm honestly fucking crushed. I've been depressed most of my life, but I've never felt as bad as I currently do. I will be going to therapy again soon. I cry every single day. I was planning my entire life with you, and you stopped loving me long ago. You put yourself through not loving me for a long time because I don't think you could handle breaking up with me. You didn't love after our fight at art a whirl, that was the dividing line in our relationship. You let yourself sign a two fucking year lease in a house neither of us could afford on our own because you couldn't fucking break up with me. You've left me fucked up and crushed while you're using tinder and seemingly far removed from me. You were over our breakup before it even happened.

[canaryatlaw]

Well, today was kind of blah, mostly because I'm still in the same shitty mood from yesterday. And now that I'm back here even though I have a handle on most of my things I still feel ridiculously stressed out and can't stop my mind from racing and I could really use some fucking Xanax right now (I only say that because I'm awaiting my prescription for it from the company, I don't normally throw around comments like that). Ugh. But anyway. My alarm went off at 9:45 and I got up, got my things together and got ready, then ate some breakfast and my dad took me to the airport. I made it through all my goodbyes okay, despite having the feeling in my chest that tears were lurking right below the surface, waiting to be set off at the smallest trigger, but it somehow subsided and I was okay. The airport is small, so I made it through security and to the gate in no time. The first flight was fine, nothing spectacular. I mostly worked on my appellate brief, fixing citations and breaking up sentences (because I have a habit of making 4 line sentences, grammatically proper but I know my prof won't appreciate it) and just generally trying to get my word count up. We landed in Baltimore pretty soon and my next flight was in an hour, with the gate pretty close by to where I was. So I grabbed some sushi that looked appetizing from one of the places then sat at the gate and took advantage of the free wifi I finally managed to hack into without actually paying (it's not actual hacking, it's just knowing how to navigate the system). And with that wifi I looked up and downloaded the rest of the cases mentioned in the trial court fake opinion so I could use them for the second section of my paper. Flight boarded soon, and when we were in the air I started reading cases and working on them, and made a solid amount of progress. Landed after not too long, took for-fucking-ever for our bags to come, and then my uber app flipped out on me and kept saying my request wouldn't go through so I'm like fine whatever I'll use Lyft, so I do and the driver gets there a lot quicker than they usually do since the airport makes them wait in a special lot until they get a pick up. So I get in the car and we started chatting, apparently they had been leaving the airport after another pick up planning on going home but had their app on to see if they'd get anything going north towards where they lives and they got me haha so they turned around and so we went. And then I get a notification saying my uber driver was arriving now and I'm like ????? I bring up the app and it doesn't even have a trip going, so I'm like wtf....and then a few minutes later the poor guy calls wanting to know where I am and I'm just like....I didn't order an uber?? Haha it was strange. But my driver and I established pretty early on that we're both tumblr people, so that kind of set the level of understanding of each other for the rest of the conversation haha. So we talked about a lot of things, they talked about figuring out that they were non-binary and picking a new name, and of course we eventually got into religion and it's social effects and I was happy to hear that they were still actually a Christian even after having grown up in a crappy conservative Christian environment and dealing with all that shit. So they were telling me how much they love their church and I in turn told them how much I love my church, and yeah, it was nice. Got home soon enough, and as expected my white canary boots had arrived, so I had to try on my whole costume to make sure they work of course, haha (I'll post a photo when I'm down here). They fit, thankfully, and they match the costume pretty well- they're a little darker than the actual suit, but the jacket is a darker gray so with them together they just look awesome, so I'm very happy about that. So I settled in and started catching up on my tv shows, which I'll try to comment on if I can remember what I watched, lol. But I kept working on my appellate brief until I had about 4700 words (out of the maximum 5000). I had one more case I was gonna cover but the opinion was so confusing and its relevance to our case really tenuous, so I said ah screw it and called it there. Hopefully I can make up the last 300 or so words in final edits and adding transitory and other necessary things. I'm not worried though, which is good. I've said this a million times before, and I fucking hate it so much, but every single time I have to write something I get scared I won't be able to write as much as needed, even though I pretty much always exceed the word count and being too short is almost never an issue, and while knowing this, I still think it, and 5000 words was looming over me this whole week as some unattainable goal, so now that I'm a lot closer to it I'm feeling better about it. So yeah, tv. I initially picked out my recording of powerless, only to find out the dvr had actually recorded the premiere of trial and error. Okay, well I wanted to watch this anyway, so I might as well keep watching, and holy Jesus this show is amazing haha I already love it so much, although I know the legal inaccuracies are gonna kill me even when I'm telling myself it's a comedy ffs (but in the episode they were pulling shit like "oh homosexuality as a crime was never repealed here" and I'm like uh bullshit Lawrence v. Texas much???? Lol). But I enjoyed that a lot. I think I went to Designated Survivor next, which was a thoroughly epic episode, fairly major spoilers ahead (you've been warned) but ahhh I can't believe just like that MacLeish is dead??? The Vice President is dead?? And how that's just gonna look so much worse for president Kirkman and not just that MacLeish was a dirty traitor....ugh. I was glad to at least see my girl Hannah FINALLY getting vindicated cuz I was like ahh yes you go girl cuz I've hardcore been pulling for her this whole time, lol, so that was cool. But yeah, really intense and awesome episode, I liked it a lot. Riverdale next I think, and holy shit that episode was so sad???? Like dang man, Jughead's life is really fucking depressing. I was of course calling major bs when the sheriff supposedly took him in on literally no evidence and then had his school record because that's not fucking illegal or anything?????? Ugh. I'm glad he's at least living with Archie now though. Veronica continues to be awesome, and with the whole Betty and Polly situation I was thinking the whole time yo do not trust the Blossoms they evil AF so of course I was right there. Good episode though. Then I started last week's episode of Time After Time, which I managed to start in time to finish right before this week's episode started without actually meaning to at all haha so I watched the two episodes back to back. Continues to be an intriguing show, I think it's still finding its footing a bit, but the twists have been very interesting so far. I'm not sure how sustainable it is in the long run, like I'm not sure I can see it going more than one season really, which is unfortunate because it's clever, the plot just doesn't really allow for it. They also love killing people off haha I guess that's what happens when you have a show featuring Jack the Ripper. HG Wells continues to be an gem ("he came over right after world war 2" ".....there was more than 1???????") and the rest of cast does well too. So when that was over I knew I had just missed the live episode of Chicago justice, but I didn't really have much else to watch at this point so I watched the second episode. It wasn't bad, annoyed me less than the first, though that's likely just because they spent less time in the courtroom, lol. They're not quite mastering the time jump thing yet, where they go from crime to investigation to trial in one episode, without any real inference to time passing, which makes it feel like it all happened over like 3 days, which isn't just unrealistic, it's confusing, because they're like "oh who are we gonna bring to the grand jury?" and then the next scene is "the grand jury returned an indictment!" and you're just like da fuck?? Lol. The episode itself was interesting though, I wish they tied in their twist a little sooner, it seemed like too much of an afterthought with the entire plot they had come up with, but it was a well-thought out and well-played twist for sure. It kind of annoyed me that through the entire episode everyone was like "oh you know any cop who gets put on trial is gonna be found guilty" when that's pretty much categorically false, as cops are almost never convicted for officer involved behavior?? Lol, like I get that they're connected to Chicago PD or whatever but they gotta get that down a bit better. And yeah, when that was over I let the news play for a bit while I finished up the queue for the week on the company tumblr. Throughout the night I also wrote my "speech" (it's like a paragraph and a half) for the PAD election speeches tomorrow- so needless to say I decided that I would run. I had kind of come to that decision last night and was gonna text the justice (president) but I was already falling asleep, then I woke up and started doubting it again, but then came back to that conclusion and went for it. I'm not running for justice though because I know that would be too much, so I'm running for service chair (my current position) and vice justice. I don't know the current state of people running, but I have to imagine it's not gonna be all that many. I guess we'll see tomorrow though. And yeah, that's about it. Tired and about ready to fall asleep, back to real life tomorrow. So goodnight friends of mine. Hope you had a relaxing weekend.

[violetbeachpod]

TRANSCRIPT: 1x01 - Twelve Oh One

Hey, folks! Bee here. Y’all reached out to me about transcripts awhile back, and, hey, since the season’s over, I’m gonna start posting them! As a person with attention issues, I super get the need for transcripts, and I’m sorry for not delivering on them sooner.

I’m also reediting episodes right now, so. Those corrections will be posted about as they happen. Anyway. Here we go. Episode one, which you can listen to here, if you so please.

TERESA: 

Okay, so--it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since--eight days, maybe? --well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was--Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s--that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve--the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down--My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh--anything else--I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually--it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

[lean away from mic]

Anj, stop--stop listening in! You--you--dude, take a nap.

[and we’re back]

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

[long beat]

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but--

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet--we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like--those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but--I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in--you get my point--knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would--well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these--these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was--she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like--uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and--one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really--I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and--well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh--at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t--I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine--which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever--sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like--I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just--it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like--in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s--there’s a new moon tonight, so--well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh--oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like--being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before--

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company--like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at--well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant--

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said--wait, lemme find my journal--yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on--Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you--” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned--MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and--well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and--

As folks left--Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then--it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town--as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about--Blarvardgate.

I--I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and--Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a--a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was--well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so--AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,--blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s--it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and--

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but--

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed--and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but--it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in--in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like--could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles--it’s, like--it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess--I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple--the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me--

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but--

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this--this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and--I was still standing--more floating, which was--not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and--

And she said--

[beat, uncomfortable]

What did she say?

[laughs]

It’s--it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s--it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t--type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this--that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s--it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like--I never saw myself as a protagonist, or--any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this--now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the--I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz--he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but--

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m--I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but--This town, VB, it’s--it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not-- the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but--Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we--we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well--the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or--his son’s the mayor, right?--Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But--my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or--or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m--I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.