#tbh I actually don’t even FULLY let myself tap on here I’m actually holding back

[bbyboybucket]

Everyone’s talking about being a yapper recently but you what? That’s why I like tumblr, bc it’s my designated place to just constantly yap. I make 500 posts about irrelevant things that no one cares about and when I reblog I write paragraphs in the tags. It’s like I’m talking to myself but it feels like I’m talking to people. And I can just yap yap yap all I want. Who’s gonna tell me not to? Nobody.

[theonecndonly-blog]

hey there, hi there, ho there~ just your friendly neighborhood blob, Bloo (23, she/they, CST). got stuck at work all day but I’m finally around to introduce myself and one of my oldest muses tbh. Flynn here has been wandering from home to home, but hopefully we’ve finally found a place for him to stay for a long while! I’m already super excited to get to interacting with you guys -- there are some seriously great characters in here like. holy shit, I love them all. well, enough of me gushing, here’s my ice king of a romantic!!

(GASPARD ULLIEL, 32, HE/HIM/HIS, CISGENDER MALE) BILLY FLYNN MOTIER joined the trip! exciting right? they’re usually known for being a MECHANIC SHOP OWNER and people have definitely described them as PASSIONATE and CYNICAL before. apparently OH DARLING by PLUG IN STEREO currently describes their relationship status too. i don’t know about you, but CALLUSED HANDS COVERED IN GREASE, FADED BLUE JEANS WITH THE HEMS ROLLED UP, and WORN-IN TAP SHOES CLATTERING EXCITEDLY AGAINST WOODEN FLOORBOARDS makes me think of them. can’t wait to see what they get into! (BLOO, 23, CST, SHE/THEY) 

whoa, whoa, whoa. what’s this? a very detailed statistics page??? heck yes!

HISTORICAL RUNDOWN:

trigger warnings: alcohol mention, traumatic experience (drunk driving), death

the elder child of a humble mechanic and his Broadway superstar wife, who’s actually the daughter of the first iteration of Billy Flynn in Chicago -- Jerry Orbach. more of a fun fact really but, needless to say, performing might as well be genetic.

his family moved down to Louisiana where his pop’s from and lived rather modestly there while their names were big and they even had a seat amongst the B-list of Hollywood, Broadway wasn’t making as much as it used to by the early 90s. high-cost productions didn’t mean high-profit margins, after all.

his mama was gone every other season for the first 10 years of his life, usually falls and springs so she’d be there when her kids were on break from school. while some may say she was “absent,” Flynn didn’t mind too much since he knew she was pursuing what she loved and he greatly respected that aspect about her.

eventually, his pop decided to move the shop up to New York City so she could take it easy and didn’t have to waste money and time moving places. this was the perfect excuse for him to go out and see his mama perform sometimes, really see her sparkle and inspire him.

while he dreamed wholeheartedly of his name in lights just like his grandpa and mama before him, Flynn spent his afternoons when not rehearsing for a school play at his pop’s shop if not helping around the house, fully expected to know how to take care of himself and not rely on someone else to do shit for him.

though he nailed his first audition and was cast as Lumiere on Broadway’s Beauty and The Beast almost immediately after getting his Bachelors at Yale, his parents encouraged him to continue his studies.

he transferred to Tisch so he could be in the city where his new job was. he lived with his childhood friend, Helen Edwards, who was between waiting tables and doing small indie projects to fill her acting resume. though they’d always been close, they grew infinitely closer and eventually eloped.

it was a New Yorker socialite scandal the moment they announced their engagement all over again, just like with Flynn’s parents before them. after all, a natural-born big shot and a nobody? how dare he. they soon shut up when she got her chance to shine in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.

were quietly and happily wed in 2013 once the attention died down, and they moved to Los Angeles, California since she was due for a new acting project next spring. however, in early 2014, they fell victim to a drunk driver’s mistakes... and only he made it out alive.

trying to run from the memories and the paparazzi asap, he made his way back to New York City, where he spent some time moping and hiding away at his parents’ home. ofc his pop wasn’t going to let him take it sitting down and got Flynn to work at the shop to take the frustrations out on the cars instead of keeping it all in his head. so when his pop retired, it wasn’t a surprise that he transferred ownership to his son.

hasn’t managed to escape his own grief sooo his sister decided “fuck it, we’re going on vacation.” and here he is now!! stuck with darling Roxie and her best friend who, well. he kinda likes but also doesn’t really know how to get out of his rut and get over his nerves so he can admit it. fun times.

PERSONAL TOUCHES:

he can hold friendly enough conversations, but it doesn't take much for the cynic to come out and make sarcastic, self-deprecating remarks. especially when alcohol’s involved.

though he used to wear his heart on his sleeve, Flynn has since taken it and shoved it deep, deep down in his chest. that doesn’t mean it’s not there, it’s just hard to get to with his ribs like an iron cage around it to deflect all the potential hurt.

however, there are few ways to slip between the bars and get it into making an appearance -- namely dance, film, music, theatre. karaoke’s a guilty pleasure. he gets both the classics and more pop culture, modern stuff. Flynn’s so big on fine arts that he’s probably put money where his mouth is and donated a big chunk of his Broadway earnings to fund schools and recreational programs in New York City. not that he’s gonna boast about it, ofc. he keeps them anonymous.

definitely can be summarized as a diamond in the rough who tries to dress to intimidate others in keeping away. it may take a lil while for him to warm up to someone but, once they’re there, he’s a real gentleman. got a super soft center. 

if he views anyone as part of his family, do not fuck with them. especially friends that he sees as being like his children (cuz spoiler alert: he lost his unborn child that fateful accident, so now he really feels the extra need to protect young ones).

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Roxanne “Roxie” Motier. his younger sister is a pain in his ass, first of all. she’s everything he used to be with the addition of extraverted as heck -- he was the quieter, laidback one. she’s the reason why he’s even on this “all expenses paid” (press X to Doubt) vacation. but I guess Flynn can’t complain too much since he’s not at the shop for once in his lifetime, and he finally gets to accomplish some bucket list things by exploring new places.

Roxie’s Best Friend. she’s been with her soul sister for years now and has known the family since they moved to New York City. she’s just as dedicated to the fine arts as him with the difference that she’s never lost their spark; something that Flynn envies and yet also can’t help but be pulled in by. whenever they’re in a room together, they’re almost inseparable, with or without Roxie’s influence. she wants him to let her in, and he wants her to stay, but it’s difficult for either to actually say so cuz of him with his PTSD and related trauma, her with whatever pain’s she’s been through~

Peas in a Pod. someone who can vibe with him as far as heartaches go. or at least with romance- and relationship-based complaints. a fellow pessimist that he can forget about the hurt with late at night, drinking and eating/making good greasy food. classically smashed burgers and pinot noir go together, right?

Honorary Motiers. at some point, were graced with the title of being sibling-like to Flynn and now will always have to deal with a highly protective but also very worldly mentor figure. he might not be able to physically outfit you with anything, but he can teach someone how to do a perfect triple pirouette or how to find their vocal sweet spot (which he’d like to note is called a person’s prime voice, thank you and good day). you know, tools of the trade from a person who studied or 6-7 years in the fine arts.

[iminclinedtowriting]

I’m here too, Mum... (Chpt 2)

title: I’m here too, Mum… summary: Dan’s first year of uni was stressful and, honestly, didn’t go great. But he’s got Phil, and he’s got youtube, and (apparently) he’s got a supportive family. After coming out, Dan (finally) brings Phil home to meet his family for his birthday and his cousin’s wedding. words: 1200 genre: fluff, established relationship, time: June 2011 series: My Youth Is Yours part: 2 chapter: 2/5 [[ao3]] [[previous chapter]]

The train window feels cool against my forehead. When we first got on the train, I rested my head in hopes of sleeping through the ride (seeing as that nap Phil suggested never happened *ahem*), but I gave up ten minutes in and resigned myself to watching the scenery flash by. Phil wandered off to the bathroom 15 minutes ago (rude), leaving me without any distraction from my worries.

What if my extended family doesn’t take the I-have-a-boyfriend thing as well as Mum? What if Mum breaks out the baby album and tells embarrassing stories? What if Adrian reveals actual dirt on me? What if Mum and Dad don’t like Phil? Impossible, right? What if Great Aunt Edna –

“Dan,” Phil’s voice jars me from my thoughts. “I brought you something.” I pry my head off the window. Phil’s holding two personal sized bottles of wine in his left hand: one red and one white. “You seem stressed. I thought you might want something to take the edge off.”

Alcohol. Yes, good. Alcohol.

I smile gratefully up at Phil and snatch both mini bottles from his grasp. “Thanks. What are you going to drink?”

“Well, I was planning on whichever one of those you didn’t choose.” I hold them close to my chest. My alcohol. Phil shakes his head, smirking with amusement. “…But I’ll manage just fine without if you want both.”

And the best boyfriend award goes to...!

I quickly glance around us. To our right is an elderly man working on a crossword puzzle. Across from us is a middle-aged woman engrossed in a copy of The Secret. Okay then. The rest of the seats are empty.

Quickly, I press a surreptitious kiss to Phil’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The twist top on the wine bottle makes a loud crack sound as the seal breaks. Without hesitating, I bring the bottle up to my lips to take a swig.

“As utterly classy as you look drinking straight from the bottle in public, I did bring you a glass, you know.” Phil passes me a disposable stemless wine glass. Blushing a little, I take the glass from Phil and pour the remainder of the wine into the glass. Phil sits patiently silent while I finish the red wine and waits to speak until I unscrew the white.

“So, do you want to talk about what is making you so anxious?”

I pour the white wine into the glass, which tinges slightly pink from the last few drops of red wine at the bottom of the glass.

“What gives it away?”

“You mean other than the alcohol?” Phil laughs good-naturedly. “For starters, you were tapping your fingers so much I thought you were going to drum a hole in your trousers. Not to mention you’ve been painfully silent since we boarded.”

“Am I really that easy to read?”

“To me, yes. Now stop avoiding the question, what’s on your mind?”

I take another sip of wine before I answer. For support, dammit. “The whole thing I guess.”

Phil glares at me unamused. “Okay, want to take a stab at which parts in particular?”

“Honestly, with my family, the boyfriend thing really isn’t bothering me. For the wedding, with all the extended family, yeah a little, but with Mum and Dad and Adrian, I think I would be just as freaked out if you were a girl, tbh.”

“But you’ve brought someone home before?”

“Yeah, I guess. But like, I was 14 when I brought Sarah home for the first time. It wasn’t really a big deal and after the first time it was even less of a big deal. When you bring someone home when you’re that young, no one takes it seriously or gives a shit. It’s just kind of what you do because there’s not really another option. But, like, now… Now I’m like intentionally bringing you home to ‘meet the family’ and it feels so much more important.”

Phil’s eyebrows wrinkle together. “Do you regret deciding to bring me?” He looks concerned.

Fuck, that’s not how I meant it.

“NO! I mean, it feels more important because it literally is more important and I like it that way. I want to show you off because you’re such a big part of my life. I want them to love you because I love you. Nerves just mean you care, right?”

Phil smiles sheepishly. “Awe I love you too.”

“Enough to go get me another bottle of wine?” Phil raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “What? They’re tiny.”

“You’re incorrigible. I’ll get you another one after we finish this discussion.”

Humff. “Fine.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m nervous too. Weirdly, not as nervous as you seem to be, but nervous. We’re planning to live together in the fall – I mean, not that we aren’t now, but like formally share the same lease in the fall – and I have no intention of going anywhere any time soon, so it’d be really inconvenient if your parents hated me. That being said, I fully intend to be as endearing as humanly possible for the next week. I’ve yet to meet a parent who can’t be wooed with polite smiles and charming conversation.” Phil’s voice raises a few octaves. “Oh, Mrs. Howell, what a lovely home you have! Adrian, you seem like so much less of a pest than Dan describes! Mr. Howell, you seem so intimidating, I promise I’ll behave–”

I shove Phil’s shoulder but smile widely at his antics. He doesn’t hesitate to poke his finger in my deeper dimple.

“I understand you’re concern, Bear, but you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine.” His hand moves to rest on my cheek and brushes his thumb lightly over my lower lip.

I lean into his touch briefly. “Thanks, Phil.” I hold his gaze for a moment more before I nudge the empty wine glass into his stomach.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

----

I stumble a bit getting off the train. Oof.

Once we are on the platform, Phil pulls me into the bathroom rather than outside to the taxi stand. Inside, he grabs my cheeks in between his hands.

“Dan. Look at me. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now? Do we need to get you some coffee before we go to your house?”

I can’t stop the giggle that falls out of my mouth. “I’m like a four.” Phil looks a bit wary. “Honestly, Phil, I’m fine. Better than fine, in fact. I’m at the exact right level of tipsy for this to not be literally the scariest thing in the world.”

He still looks a bit skeptical. “If you say so. But if you can’t manage yourself in front of your parents, I’m saying you are really tired and putting you to bed, okay?”

I overexaggerate rolling my eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Ew. No. You are not allowed to call me dad.”

“Yes, daddy.” I smile mischievously.

Phil huffs. “Daniel. No. I’m not one to kink shame, but I swear I will leave you here.”

I pull out of his grasp. “I’m kidding. Now come on, let’s grab a taxi and get this show on the road.”

The taxi ride seems to take two seconds and eight hours at the same time. Phil sat himself in the middle seat at the beginning of the ride and has been holding my hand in his lap since, lightly thumbing over the back of my hand. As the taxi pulls up in front of my house, I squeeze Phil’s hand.

“Ready?”

“All set.”

Here goes nothing.

We’re only halfway to the door when Mum rushes out to us. I prepare myself for a smothering hug, but to my surprise she bypasses me and goes straight to Phil.

“Hello, darling. It’s so good to finally meet you in person.” Phil chuckles and hugs my mother back.

“Hello Mrs. Howell, it’s lovely to meet you as well.”

“Please, call me Kathy. Mrs. Howell is my mother-in-law.”

Phil hugs her again, much to my mother’s glee. “Nice to meet you, Kathy.”

“Um, hi Mum. I’m here too, ya know.”

Mum turns her attention to me. Finally. Not like I’m her son or anything. “Hello, Daniel. It’s so good to have you home.” I stagger slightly, unable to balance her bone-crushing hug and my bag at the same time in my slightly tipsy state. Phil shoots me an alarmed look from behind my mother and rushes forward to take my bag from me.

“Here, let me take that for you, Bear.”

My mum pats Phil’s cheek and practically coos. “Awe, such manners. You’ve picked such a gentleman.”

Psh, yeah right. He just doesn’t want me to look blatantly shitfaced.

Mum ushers us into the house, motioning Phil to drop our bags by the stairs. Within the first two minutes of being in the house, Phil compliments my mum three times (“You’ve got such a cozy home!” “It’s so kind of you to invite me!” “That’s such a nice family portrait!”). Suck up. Dad greets us inside the lounge but Adrian is nowhere to be seen. I lead Phil to the larger sofa, leaving a bit more space between us than normal.

Mum begins to bombard Phil with questions before he’s even properly settled. “So, Phil, sweetheart, tell us about yourself.”

Boooooring.

As Phil talks, I steadily become more aware of the fact that my mouth feels like dry sandpaper. Confident that Phil can manage on his own for a few minutes, I (somewhat shakily) press off the sofa. “I’ll be right back, I’m going for a glass of water.” My head quietly throb in protest of movement. Oof. “And maybe some paracetamol.”

Phil looks at me for only a moment, but his eyes twinkle with mirth. I head into the kitchen before he has the chance to say anything. Smartass.

After pouring myself a water, I pull the medicine box out from the cabinet under the kitchen basin. Rather than lifting it to the counter, it falls to the floor with a quiet thud. Helplessly, I follow the box down to the floor and drag it between my legs. The shrill screech of the box against the tile threatens to explode my head. I may not have felt particularly drunk at any point today, but the combination of wine and champagne, traveling, and minimal food has left me feeling not great.

Naturally, Adrian chooses this high point in my life walk in the kitchen. I can feel him staring at me as I struggle with the latch on the medicine box.

“You good there?” His laughter is so loud I can practically feel it. Reflexively, I cradle my head in my hand.

“A little quieter, please.”

Miraculously, he laughs a bit softer this time. “Are you drunk?”

My head falls back against the counter. “No, but I think I’m hungover.”

“It’s ten. At night.”

“It’s literally my birthday, fuck off, Adrian.” Little shit.

“Your birthday is tomorrow, loser.”

“Close enough. Now do something useful and fetch the paracetamol for me.”

Adrian continues to make fun of me, but cooperates all the same. I take the pills from his hand and reach for my water, only to realize I left it on the counter. Fuck it. I pop them into my mouth and swallow them dry.

Adrian’s hand falters as he passes me my water glass. “Oh, I guess you don’t need this.”

“I’m a good swallower,” I say with a wink.

“Ugh too much information, bro.” He looks appropriately grossed out but helps me to my feet anyway. “You know, I could so easily tell Mum and Dad you’re dying of a hangover.”

“Mmm, you do that. You still like to have Abby over while Mum and Dad go to dinner on Wednesdays?”

His cheeks tint pink. “Fine, you win.”

I give him small two-fingered salute as I pass him on the way out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Adrian!”

In the lounge, my parents and Phil are still engrossed in conversation. I tune in for just long enough to make sure I don’t need to contribute—Mum is asking all about his masters. We could be here for hours.

I hover next to Phil for a moment as I debate my next move. Before I can over think it, I curl into a small ball on the sofa and rest my head in Phil’s lap. My eyes snap shut before I can see either of my parents’ reaction. Phil tenses briefly.

“Do you want to go to bed, Bear?” He murmurs softly, his hand resting uncertainly on my shoulder. I shake my head and Phil continues his previous sentence. Gradually, his hand slides up and snakes its way into my hair.

“Bear? Wake up.”

I languidly open my eyes and slowly take in my surroundings. It takes a second before I remember I’m at home and not in Manchester. “What time is it?”

“Half eleven. You feel asleep, silly old bear.”

I swear to god I hear Mum coo again.

“Can we go to sleep now?”

Phil shakes a bit under my head as he laughs. “Of course, but that means you have to stand up first.”

“Ughhhhh, Phil.” Reluctantly, I sit up and let Phil pull me to stand. Mum is still chattering away. I hear her mention sometime about breakfast and plans for tomorrow but am too sleepy to register anything important.

Upstairs, Phil pauses in between my room and the opened door to the guest room.

“Er, do you know where I’m supposed to sleep?” He asks, shifting the weight of his duffle bag.

I look at him a little perplexed. “Did Mum say something?” Phil shakes his head.

“With me, then.” Hey, if Mum really cared, she would have said something, right?

Phil barely has time to shut the door in the time it takes me to strip to my boxers and crawl into bed. As soon as he joins me in bed, I bury my face into his chest, letting out a deep sigh I didn’t realize I’ve been holding in all evening.

“Long day?” He asks, running his fingers up and down my bare back.

“Mmm, good day though.”

“Yeah?”

“Good pre-birthday. And Mum likes you.”

Phil’s chest vibrates with laughter. “How would you know? You slept through almost our entire interaction.”

I try to shrug, but end up just lightly bumping Phil’s chin with my shoulder. Groaning, I press my face deep into Phil’s chest.

“Night, night Phil.”

I feel Phil press a kiss into the top of my head. “Night, night Dan. I love you.” I try to say I love you back, but I’m too tired to form the words.

It’s okay, he knows.

[to-be-mary-jay]

You know there are days when I relate to the song "I'm still here" from Treasure Planet a little too much. And personally I would live to have a more solid father figure in my life like he did... maybe just more solid family members in general. I hate askin for things like to hang out or help with homework or help in general because my family was supposed to be that growing up and they weren't. Mom treated me like I was a lesser being because I didn't understand math a lot (jokes on her cause it changed about 8 years later and was proven right about it when only one question was right and it was the one I had figured out and all the others were wrong).

The brother that's just above me (i have 4 older brothers for reference, we'll call this one brother 4 or b4 for short) hated me for years because I took his place as the baby of the family (even with the 11 year age gap). Still pretty sure b4 hates me a bit still, when his wife treats me better than he ever will (won't go into that right now).

Brother 3 (b3 for short is just above b4 in age) is a con artist and owes me 3,000 something and I'm not even going to go into all the things before he moved out (most of which I can't fully remember except the bad stuff no one believes me about which I didn't learn was bad till later in life. Fuck the education system.)

Brother 2 (b2 for short the second oldest just above b3) is probably the most adjusted out of all of us but is still hella fucking unreliable because his "help" constitutes as agreeing to it and then never fucking doing it (just like mom) closest thing I had to a father for years till I moved away from upper utah.

Brother 1 (the eldest b1 for short) he was already an adult and got married when I was 4 (I was a young flower girl along with another girl but not the point). I don't have a great relationship with him because of that (and my mom telling me about their disagreements but now i know that she is narcissistic and not in the looks way) but he's also smacked me for barely tapping his car with a plastic chair (i was like fucking 10 asshole i don't care if you have an inferiority complex i was just a kid and it didn't do any fucking damage). I have a better relationship with his wife (but that remains to be seen sometimes because they can both be pretty bad but she's mellowed out a bit cause of their 3 kids).

Now here we are onto my dad in this 230 am rant because I can't sleep again (probably cause I'm on my phone) and I just, don't know where to begin with this because i don't remember it all. Like i have the c-PTSD triggers but I also have survivors guilt because I'm the only child who didn't get beat at the drop of nothing (although according to mom [which her information is pretty unreliable tbh] I may have been touched as a child in a sexual way but they couldn't find any evidence besides baby me physical reaction.) Like I hate having these triggers, people start yelling or fighting and I'm just like there witnessing in 3rd person i get incredibly tense and it takes me hours to try to calm down if I'm by myself. And like I'm terrified of men that are older than me especially if they get angry in anyway. What's worse is i don't actually remember any of what caused the c-ptsd just what I've been told and what c-PTSD b3 has (he can't stand to have people come up behind his back... it was dad's favorite place to hurt them or rather him).

I'm not gonna go into the other stuff I remember that wasn't cause by my family directly (I've already vented about indirect stuff that my mom could've prevent in a previous rant and some I'm... not proud of even if it was through coercion of a child's mind [cause let's be honest if your a quiet lonely kid who can't/ isn't allowed out much it's easy to convince them to do things thinking it might be normal] but you can gather it from this huh? Sorry... if you think less of me now) I guess my point is I've never been in a solid enough place to have people to rely on that actually prove I can rely on them and now I'm so messed up that the only way I can get it out is on fucking here because I'm so used to hardly anyone listening to me when it comes to me venting. Because God i know i can be too much, i know I'm annoying I know I'm not a choice. Because maybe... maybe if I was a choice then maybe... maybe i wouldn't have been so alone growing up? They... they cloud've made time to hang out with me or chose to just put aside their work for an hour... but it was always everything else first... I hardly ever got to go to friends houses and they wouldn't come to my house because mom wouldn't allow it or something. And there were times when my brothers (mostly b4) were supposed to be watching me and I would find myself alone in an empty house waiting for hours just four someone to come home and help me or something. But they didn't. The funny thing is this is just the tip of the iceberg (probably) that's wrong with me that I can piece together. Other stuff... happened later... things that made me wish I had never met that person or became friends with them. People that don't understand why I cut them out (2 so far, I really should stop being so forgiving of other people and maybe forgive myself more?) Honestly I don't think anyone knows fully everything at least not verbally... maybe here... i don't have the courage to ask my friends who follow me here if they do. If they think less of me... if i really do annoy them and they just tolerate me and are being polite. I just... i just wasn't too be able to talk to someone without fear of being interrupted or told that's not gonna happen because bla (loose version of something my mom told me) and like everyone started out with the trust of maybe I can tell them things until they prove otherwise (eg cutting me off abruptly while in the middle of explaining a thing I found that I thought was cool) and it will take them ages to get that trust back (if they ever do because I don't tell them because I know that I'm just a burden who's barely worth hanging out with and don't want to hurt them [probably a learned behavior from calling out my mom on her bullshit and getting lashed and abused verbally because she would start crying as soon as we pointed out what she was doing] yes I know I shouldn't think that. Hard not to... I've always felt like I've never really belonged anywhere even in this dumb family.) I've had past experiences with friends/bf/family who turned the fault back to me. (Guess that's where I got my it's always my fault thing even when it isn't, thank mom for most of that complex). God I've gone on a few tangents sorry... I'm sorry if I scared you with this... and I'm sorry my friends here if you think less of me. I wish that it wasn't almost always in the early/late morning when it gets to much to hold back and just comes flooding to the front of everything. I just... I need to let it out I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

[richardsikens]

&. sorry to my unknown lover

okay so i’ve never actually posted a fic straight onto tumblr before??? unbelievable??? anYWAYs this is some james/lily shit that i just,,, wrote in two days and it’s nearly 4k words i’m a bit shocked at myself tbh. you can also alternatively read it on ao3 HERE ( & maybe leave a comment!! )

“James Potter’s in love with you.”

It’s a girls night, see. You’re sitting crossed-legged on your bed, one of your knee length socks slipping down to your ankle, in the middle of putting your photo frames back on your bedside table. You do this every year first, as soon as you get back to your dorm after the Welcome feast, before you do anything like changing into your pyjamas or brushing your teeth.

Mary’s got her tongue poked out on her own bed next to you, concentrating very hard on painting her toe nails. Dorcas and Marlene are probably in the Common Room, where you left them an hour ago, still cuddling, because the rest of the dorm is empty. You wait until Mary has finished up her left foot before speaking.

“He’s not in love with me,” you reply dismissively. “He barely knows me.”

It’s not entirely true, of course, not anymore. Maybe a few years ago. Not in the last year, though; he’s seen you, bleary-eyed and snappish over breakfast, and exchanging cheeky comments with Professor Slughorn in public, and that time at the end of sixth year when you thought cutting your hair that length was truly a good idea. It was at the end of the last school year, your sixth, when you looked and there was a newfound maturity in him that wasn’t there before. It scared you a little to think it’d been there a while and you just didn’t notice. You lay at the top of the highest row of stands by the Quidditch pitch with him coming back into sixth year, only a month and a bit after your father died, and he let you stare at the stars and talk to him like nothing else mattered in the world.

He knows you, maybe just a bit. Mostly, you think he’s in love with the idea of you, rather than the real you. This does not reassure you.

“Mm.” The noise Mary makes clearly indicates that she doesn’t believe you, and she leans forward to blow her toe nails. “Does this colour look good on me, d’you think?”

–

“Prongs is in love with you.”

Your left hand jumps over your chest, your right already clenching around your wand. This is what the beginnings of a war does to you, you see. There’s a good chance it could’ve been someone like Avery or Mulciber or, God forbid, Severus creeping up on you like that in the bathroom, but it’s only Black.

Ha. Only Black.

“This is a girls’ bathroom,” you say, raising your hands to fix your hair again in the mirror. You can see his reflection raise a shoulder to shrug and roll his eyes. “What’s this about Potter?”

“He’s in love with you,” Sirius says again, slower. His expression doesn’t change. The dark hue of his eyes, even when sparkling, have always been a little unnerving — sometimes in a good way. You try not to flinch right now. You hold his gaze in the mirror.

“Suppose he were, I’m not sure why you’re telling me,” you try to say nonchalantly. He sees right through you, of course.

“Because you’re flirting with him, and he doesn’t realise he’s gone for you again,” he says bluntly, and your finger fiddling with your clip slips.

You suppose you have gotten closer. Being Head Boy and Head Girl does that. Your life has somehow turned from slightly barbed insults thrown at each other across the classroom to friendlier banter. A solid structure that helps you shoulder the weight of responsibility placed on your shoulders this year. He makes you laugh. That’s all, isn’t it?

“You’re being ridiculous,” you scoff. Lift your chin a little higher. You lean forward to turn on the tap.

“I’m not.” This may be one of the most… serious you’ve ever seen him, and it bothers you just a little. “Be careful with him, Evans, all right? He’s a bleeding heart, and all. You would know. You’re the same.”

You finish washing your hands and turn off the tap. Shaking the water droplets off because you’re lazy, you press your lips into a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not… I’m not going to do anything.”

–

“Fucking — fucking Potter’s in love with you, Lily, can’t you see that?”

There’s something disgustingly pathetic in Severus’ voice that makes you want to recoil, so you do.

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned, but you might want to let go of me before you hurt me anymore, or I swear to God, I will hex your fingers off.” The words come out harsher than you anticipated. You thought you weren’t that angry anymore, that your resentment had melted into hurt instead. The Incident had been two years ago. There have been two summers that have gone by where you avoided him and didn’t speak. Yet, the flame in your stomach is lit again, and he doesn’t fucking deserve you, you know it — You don’t fucking deserve this. He made his choice, and you wish he could give up, because you are getting oh so tired of having to say no to him.

Severus drops his grip on your forearm like it’s burning him, looking down in shock for a second, as if forgetting for a moment that he hadn’t just grabbed you in the middle of a hallway, hadn’t just grabbed you as soon as your conversation with James ended and he’d walked away, hadn’t just dug his fingers into your skin until they were stinging. As if he hadn’t just purposely forgot that you weren’t friends anymore, and he had absolutely no fucking right to be doing this. None at all.

“Did you not see the way he — he acts around you?” He says ‘he’ like it hurts him. You hope it does. You’re still a bit taken aback by his audacity, in all honesty. “You hang around with him way too often. You’re leading him on.”

“Who I hang around with is none of your business, Snape.” Your tone is stiff, but you are seething. He jerks his head as if he’s been slapped. “And we are not friends, I do not know why you seem to have this belief in your head that you can determine whether or not I’m leading him, or anyone else, on.”

His face does a very ugly thing, twists into a facial expression that you’ve never seen before. You hate it. “You flirt with him. For arrogant twats like him, he’s going to believe you like him.”

“Have you thought that maybe I want to flirt with him?” It slips out, really, before you can fully register it, because you’re angry at Severus for thinking he can still dictate who you can talk to and you’re frustrated that he won’t fucking leave you alone and you’ve been very confused in your head about James Potter for a while now, but have been a coward to thinking about it. Severus’ eyes widen, and so do yours, and you lift your chin higher determinedly.

“But – but, Lily — you — we — we always said that we hated Potter, I don’t —” He’s spluttering, stumbling over his muttered words, and you laugh.

“We haven’t said anything recently. You’re with Mulciber and Avery and — all that lot, and — I don’t care anymore, Severus, all right? You’re not my concern anymore, anything you do, so stop making my affairs yours. It’s nothing to do with you. You chose to be an utter prick and lie and join up with a group who wants to kill me, and that’s your choice, but I’m tired now. Stop — Stop following me, and checking up on me, and talking to me. I don’t want anything to do with you. Leave me alone.”

–

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, Lily? You can’t — You can’t get jealous over Potter with Fawcett, and not admit you don’t fucking feel something for him. Christ, the boy’s in love with you. He’d marry you right now if you asked him to. You’re being the twat here.”

You are used to Dorcas’ outbursts like this. Seven years of a friendship, of sharing a room with her, meant getting used to the way Dorcas displayed her feelings. You hardly ever take the things she says to heart, not like Mary does. Dorcas is a prickly character, thick skin over thick skin, but everything she says is honest.

There’s a short silence following Dorcas rolling her eyes and getting up to head back to Madame Rosmerta at the bar for another Butterbeer. It is only you and Marlene and Dorcas together right now, despite you trying to beg Mary off her date with Effie Macmillan so you do not have to feel like a third wheel.

“She’s sort of right, you know,” Marlene says first, breaking the odd silence. You feel a flare of irritation, but she is right. They are both right. You’ve been sneaking glances over at James ever since Felicity Fawcett walked in the Three Broomsticks and proceeded to bat her eyelashes at him as he was getting up to leave. They have been talking for ten minutes.

“I don’t like James,” you say stupidly, and Marlene sighs.

–

“James is in love with you. No, wait —” Marlene raises her hand before you can interrupt, and the authority she seems to emit makes your splutters fall silent. She smells of grass and fresh air and broomstick polish, with a hint of mud that’s splattered on various parts of her clothing. She always smells like that, but it’s only stronger as you’re sitting, watching the Quidditch field. She drops her hand to her broom again, twisting herself so she can face you full-on in her seat. You find yourself doing the same, though there is something similar to fear twisting in your gut.

“Lily, I have known this boy since I was born, okay? You know this. We were the typical neighbours since birth best friends. We always were. I was there when he fell off of his broom the first time, and he gave me my first scar when he accidentally tripped me when we were playing together. Every stolen treat was my idea, and well executed by him. I’ve seen him through his best, when he’s grinning and bursting and full of light — and I’ve seen him at his worst, trying to shut the world out. I’ve seen it all, okay? I’ve seen what he looks like in all his states, and Lily — Lily, he’s in love with you. And I know you’re scared. But that’s kinda everything, isn’t it? He’s been in love with you for a while now. But he won’t tell you until you’re ready.”

Marlene turns her head to watch the flying figures ahead of you, eyes easily following the boy in question. His hair is messier than always, eyes lit up as he yells something, Quaffle under his arm. You don’t know why your chest is aching.

“And, Lily Evans, I know you too.” Marlene reaches forward to grab your hand, your soft palms brushing against the roughened feel of her Quidditch gloves. “I’ve seen you through it all — when Snape was the biggest prick, when your foul sister sends you ugly letters, when your father died. When you got your Prefect badge, and when you punched Mulciber for what he did to Mary, and when you saw us playing Quidditch for the first time. I’ve seen you have crushes and I’ve seen you been drawn to people. You’re so afraid, Lily. You’ve got to accept he’s in love with you, truly. What’re you going to do about that?”

What’re you going to do about that?

–

“Potter.” You pause. “James. You — you really like me, don’t you?”

You switch out the word love for like, because you are standing here, doing this, but you are still afraid, just a little bit. You are taking small steps into this landmine. You do not want this to blow up in your face.

You can see him studying you. His glasses are slightly wonky, and his hair is sticking up in all sorts of places, and you really want to fix it, but you don’t. He looks like lightning has just struck him, lightning boy with a lightning heart, and you are suffocating from the air, because he still has not said a word.

You suppose you have ambushed him. Marlene’s words stuck in your head like a sore thumb, painfully aware of its existence. You have been trying to work up the courage to say something, but he laughed at the book you transformed into an egg instead of a pineapple earlier in Transfiguration, spending the whole day making egg-related puns and roping in everyone in the vicinity to join him, and it’s been all you could think about. Doing your Prefect rounds with him today, which you swapped with Remus months ago without coming up with a better excuse in your head other than wanting to talk to James every week like this, has become something you’ve been looking forward to. And you looked at him, laughing and realising that this is how it always is; he was making a joke about eggs, again, and you blurted the question out, whilst staring at his face in the half-light of a lamp.

“Yes.” His voice is steady. He does not say anything more. You realise that he’s studying you because he’s trying to see on your face if you’re ready.

He’s given you time. You thought at the beginning of the year that it was ridiculous he could’ve liked you all this time, from teasing jabs in class in third year to your rocky relationship from The Incident in fifth year. It has been so long. But he has not pressed you once this year, not even when you’re looking at each other like this, not when you’re alone with him and you could’ve kissed, you could’ve, but he has said nothing.

It is not because he is burning quietly. It is because he has matured into this brilliant young man standing beside you, instead of an arrogant little boy with too big of a heart and no way of filtering it through his words, and he is waiting. He seems to always be waiting.

“Okay,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “Okay.” And you’re leaning forwards now, on your tip toes because he’s so bloody tall. You do not pause as you move your lips to press against his. He’s kissing you back immediately, like this has been the moment he’s been waiting for, and you can’t feel anything. You can’t feel anything except him, just for a moment, before you’re bombarded with everything — all fire and hope and passion andeverything. You do not want to stop. So you don’t.

–

“James is in love with you.”

It is not that you are not Peter’s friend. You are. He has a habit to not necessarily push himself into the background, but when hanging around such vibrant, dynamic people, he fades away slightly. But you like Peter. You like the way he grins with his entire face, and that he listens as if he truly cares, and how he shares the anxiousness with you that everyone seems to be too brave to admit to feeling. He’s always been more Dorcas’ friend than yours at first, and then Remus’ friend than yours, and then James’, but he’s your friend too now. That’s how life works, see.

You kinda crashed his and Dorcas’ studying meeting in the library. His and Dorcas’ friendship has always fascinated you a little, in the way Dorcas is all brute force and bluntness and roughed edges, and Peter is all stammers and one-liners and wavering hands. Dorcas is not gentler, per se, around him, but it works.

Of course, she’s gone at the moment, her things left unceremoniously scattered across the table. Marlene came by for a Quidditch book earlier, and now they’re in one of the aisles.

You tilt your face to meet Peter’s eyes, blinking thoughtfully. It’s not worry in the seed in your mind, about the Marauders not liking you now that you’re James’ girlfriend, because you’ve been their friends too, individually. You’re surprised Peter’s spoken, honestly. “He is?” Like it’s a surprise.

Peter nods, and you cannot tell on, what you had previously thought, his transparent face if it’s with enthusiasm or glumness. This unsettles you slightly, but you shake it away. “I think he’s been in love with you since third year, but it’s real now.”

“How do you know?’

He pauses. Leans forward like it’s a secret, like he’s embarrassed. “I’m — Well, I wouldn’t say I’m good, because… I don’t know, but I’m not sure I’m good at much. But I’m — All right at observing people, I guess. You’re good for him, Lily.”

You blink again. There’s something singing happily in your bones, and you smile, pressing your hand against his. He looks surprised, as if he is not used to such affection. You recognise the reaction from your friendship with Severus, but this is Peter — Peter, who is best friends with James, who is tactile with his emotions, and Remus, with his quiet tenderness, and Sirius, who defends until death. “Thank you, Peter.”

–

“For all your intelligence, Lily, you’re not acting very clever right now. James is in love with you, and this argument about not wanting to be with him because your being Muggleborn is not a valid point.”

It’s a blow, coming from Remus; he’s sighing, and giving you A Look. You love Remus, you do, but he has a habit of making you feel like you’re being scolded by a teacher every time you disappoint him.

“But — but, Remus, you should understand,” you very nearly whine. None of your other friends have sided with you on this argument; in fact, Marlene had given you a very dirty look when she found out, and had uncharacteristically not talked to you for a full day. “You’re always going on about being unable to be with anyone because of your — you know. Furry little problem. At this moment of time, being Muggleborn, or associated with Muggleborns, is very dangerous!”

Remus heaves out another sigh, and you try not to flinch. “My — my condition is an entirely different situation. My point is that no one’s in love with me, so it doesn’t really matter. James, however, is head over heels in love with you, and keeping him at a distance is only going to do more harm than good. You know this.”

“I know.” You join him in the next sigh. You feel your shoulders slumping. “But you know what’s going on outside this castle. I mean, did you read the newspaper this morning? Jonas Fawley — do you remember him? He was a couple years older than us, I think he was in the same year as Alice Fortescue. But the Death Eaters got him and his wife, their little girl too. Because his wife was Muggleborn. He’s Pureblood and everything, but they still killed him.” You pause. Feel the bile in the back of your throat. Your next words come out as a whisper, even though you don’t mean it to. “That could be James. And I don’t — I don’t want to put him in that position.”

“With all due respect, Lily,” Remus says, and his eyes are kind. “That’s his choice to make. But you’re both fighters. We all are. We kind of have to be.”

–

“Is that James? He’s looking at you like you hang the stars, honey. I think the boy’s in love with you.”

This is one of the very first things your mum says to you when you step off the train. You’re probably much too old now, all eighteen and everything, to have your mother picking you up from your last day at school, but here you are, not caring. It is only your mum waiting for you on the other side of the platform, smile wide, eyes happy. Of course, you didn’t expect Petunia to come at all, not when she stopped tagging along as soon as she was old enough to stay home alone. And your dad… Your dad should’ve been here too. Because Hogwarts is over, your time in those protected walls where you were still a kid, is done, and he should’ve been here to hug you like this, he should’ve been here.

You follow your mother’s gaze to James, to where he’s standing with his own parents and Sirius. He’s looking at you, of course. He’s always looking at you. You kind of want to go over there and kiss him now, but you smile instead and turn back to your mum.

“He looks like how you described in your letters,” she muses, and you grin. “Very handsome. I’m happy for you, Lily.”

In a sudden rush of affection, you kiss your mum on the cheek, hugging tight. She gives you a startled look, but she squeezes your hand. She tears her eyes away from you to watch the Potters again, who are starting to levitate James and Sirius’ trunks. She’s always been fascinated by magic, your mum.

“We should go over there,” she says abruptly. She’s already starting to march over before you can catch up, true Evans style and all. It is easy to pretend, just for a second, that people like Dolohov are not throwing your mum glares, dressed up in her Muggle attire. “Mr Potter, Mrs Potter, James! Is it true, James, that you dyed my daughter’s hair green in her fifth year, or was she telling lies in her letters?”

Your mum throws you a cheeky wink at James’ horrified look, and you’re laughing, wondering how much you would give up to stay in moments like this forever.

–

“Lily, I’m in love with you,” he breathes, and you hold your breath. There’s no doubt in his words, no I think or Maybe. He says it like he’s certain. He says it like it’s the only thing he truly knows.

“I know,” you say, and you want to laugh into his kiss, really. You know. You’ve known for a while. You know because he’s looking at you like that, with his hazel eyes and lopsided grin, and you know. For him, it’s always been you. There have been other girls, there have been other boys, but it’s always been you. You’ve always been it for him. How does that feel? How does that feel to know your two souls are wound around each other so tight?

You’ve always been it for him, but he’s always been it for you. That’s important too, isn’t it?

“I know, I know, I know,” you laugh into his mouth, like a mindless babble, and you don’t have to say it back just yet, but he knows too, because he’s still looking at you like that, and you’re kissing, and all you can think is, James James James.

[slyther-bird]

1-92 😘😘

Child pls… I’m gonna put these under a cut because holy shit that’s a lot of questions and I’m not flooding anyone’s dashes (forgive any typos pls. It’s late for me)

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

That would be you, so nah bro

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

Fuck no

3. Have you taken someone’s virginity?

I think so? I was told yes but I don’t know if that was true or not

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

Sometimes, but it depends on the situation

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

Nope

6. What are you excited for?

Right now probably my next skating day

7. What happened tonight?

I shut myself in my room and watched vine compilations while fighting with a drawing and then decided I deserved alcohol and snuck into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. And got harassed by my cat because she’s ridiculous

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

I guess it depends on what happens when they get really wasted? I’m usually the one drunk and don’t remember a lot so I couldn’t say

9. Is confidence cute?

In the right situation yea, but not if the person is being cocky and rude

10. What is the last beverage you had?

I’m switching between a white wine and water because the wine isn’t cold and keeps drying out my mouth

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

Maybe 3 max?

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

Yup

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

If I can’t make it to skating probably just watch YouTube and draw

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

It honestly depends when I end up getting a job, but I do need more wood panels for mosaics so probably those

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

Nope

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I fucking hope so

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

You tbh

18. The last time you felt broken?

Probably within the last week? It was recent and it’s been a shitty week so

19. Have you had sex today?

Nah mate

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

Not really? I’ve been trying to keep busy with things so I can’t think of anything

21. Are you in a good mood?

I’d say a decent one

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

If it was totally safe and controlled then yea sure

23. Are your eyes the same colour as your dad’s?

No, mine are a really dark brown and his are hazel

24. What do you want right this second?

Probably some motivation tbh. Or a pita

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

I’m not interested in/looking for anyone right now so it wouldn’t matter?

26. Is your current hair colour your natural hair colour?

Partially. I still haven’t cut off the bleached bits yet. I really should

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

Depends on their other qualities. I’m not totally in touch with emotions so something could make me laugh one day and not the next

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

My cat shoving her paw under my door because she heard me quietly singing

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

Not really? Like I miss you but I usually do so?

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

It depends on what they did/want a second chance about

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

It was my brother so no not really

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

I don’t have feelings for anyone right now, I’m trying to figure myself out before I worry about that

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

I haven’t been drinking it a lot because I’m actually kind of taking care of myself and paying attention to a diet lately

34. Listening to?

Waltz Op. 64 No. 2- Chopin (because it’s in the ost playlist for a fanfic I like)

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

I do in sketchbooks or randomly on my walls if I don’t have paper or my phone

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

I don’t know who the last person I kissed is so no?

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Not really. It seems like it’s more based on appearance than anything

38. Who did you last call?

I think you?

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

Definitely you, we were dancing in the car a bit ago

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

I’m not sure since I don’t know who it was

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

Oh god probably some time last fall?

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

Yup

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

I’ve embarrassed myself in front of a crush more times than I haven’t

44. Do you tan in the nude?

I don’t tan at all if I can help it

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

I don’t think so, I think I was done bitching about sai a couple hours before I actually fell asleep

47. Who was the last person to call you?

I think my mum… She decided she needed to call me instead of texting me and scared me because my ringer was on

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Really quietly because there’s always someone here but yea. It’s honestly more of a performance tbh

49. Do you dance in the car?

Not wildly, but it depends on the song

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Yup. You need to remind me to let you try mine btw

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

At last year’s Lions convention I think

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

Sometimes, but they’re nice

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Hell yea it is. I have more than one house to get ready for Christmas

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

I literally had those for supper tonight… One of my favourite things tbh

55. Favourite type of fruit pie?

I don’t like fruit pie all that much but I don’t dislike apple pie as much. As long as it’s drowning in caramel and warm

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

The only ones I definitely remember are figure skater, astronaut, astronomer, and palaeontologist

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Oh yea

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Literally more often than not I do

59. Take a vitamin daily?

No but I should be

60. Wear slippers?

Usually only if I’m sick

61. Wear a bath robe?

Not often tbh

62. What do you wear to bed?

Sometimes the clothes from that day, but usually boxers and a shirt or nothing, depends how much I can get off

63. First concert?

I’ve never been to one oops

64. Wal-Mart, Target, or Kmart?

Target was always the best when I was in the states for competitions but I haven’t been in ages so Wal-Mart I guess?

65. Nike or Adidas?

Nike because I like the name more. I don’t even really know what these brands make

66. Cheetos or Fritos?

Cheetossss. That’s how I corral my little cousins

67. Peanuts or sunflower seeds?

Sunflower seeds if they’re not too much work

68. Favourite Taylor Swift song?

Bad Blood or Shake it Off

69. Ever take dance lessons?

I took ballet and tap when I was younger. I was kind of thinking about starting ballet again because I like it and it’ll help with skating

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Nope, I don’t even entirely know what I’ll be doing

71. Can you curl your tongue?

I can now. I couldn’t until I was like, 13 for some reason

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Never been in one

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

My cat touched my nose with her paw and closed her eyes and purred the other day so yea

74. What is your favourite book?

I guess Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke because I always go back to it and it doesn’t get boring to me. I feel so bad because my favourites are definitely Harry Potter or Artemis Fowl but not a specific one, just the entire series really

75. Do you study better with or without music?

I never studied at all because that was always a guarantee that I’d screw up the test/exam

76. Regularly burn incense?

I wish, but my mum gets huge headaches from smells

77. Ever been in love?

More than I’d like to admit or think about tbh

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

Maybe Panic! at the Disco, but I’ve heard that the tour Adam Lambert has been doing with Queen is good too. And it’s Adam

79. What was the last concert you saw?

I’ve never been to one

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot tea

81. Tea or coffee?

Usually I’d prefer tea but sometimes I need the higher boost from coffee

82. Favourite type of cookie?

I really like these double chocolate ones my grandma makes. They’re so bad for you but they taste really nice and they’re super soft and gooey

83. Can you swim well?

I think pretty decently, but it’s not impressive or anything. I don’t like being in the water anyway

84.Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

Yup. But I have to hold my nose if I’m diving into water because of my piercing

85. Are you patient?

It depends what I’m supposed to be patient about but usually I am

86. DJ or band at a wedding?

DJ, they usually have a nicer music selection

87. Ever won a contest?

Competition yes, but I’m not sure about a contest

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

Nope

89. Which are better, black or green olives?

I just got back onto olives and I only had green ones so I’ll say those

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

It’s fine as long as you’re careful. I’d be such a hypocrite if I said something against it omg

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Family/living room. Or a study

92. Do you want to get married?

It’s not off the table, but I’m not overly concerned about it at this point

I hope you appreciate that this took me 2 hours man I’m dying

[thebogdanone]

Home/away from home

Home/away from home

I stumble out of my room thinking…it's Thursday, right? I look down the hall to see Josh, who lives in the room next to mine, passed out on the floor right in front of the bathroom door. He is fully dressed and in an odd way looks quite peaceful with his arm under the head...then I notice the vomit drying on his sleeve and his cheek and I think...yuck, I am so glad that is not me. I look at my watch. It is 7:45 AM and then I pause...isn't he in my Lit class which starts in 15 minutes? I envision our classroom, one of those huge lecture halls and yes, I'm right, he is in that course with me. Then I think...will he be happy if I wake him up or hate me for disturbing him?

As I ponder the options John from three doors down emerges from his room with a loud belch and says, without missing a beat, "who the fuck is that...Josh again?" I nod. "Again" I think? I have never seen him asleep in the hall before but apparently this is a regular occurrence. I try to form into sentences what I had just been thinking about whether to wake him or not and just as I start to say "What should we do...?" big John bends down and effortlessly rolls Josh's body away from the bathroom entrance, tucking him up again the wall. John belches loudly again as he enters the toilet stall, slamming the door shut with a bang that jars me into reality. “I have to get going” I think and I step into the bathroom. Then I stop...I take a step backward and look back down at Josh...he is dead asleep, for sure, but he is not dead. Crazy as it sounds, way in the back of my mind that was a worry. I determine it’s highly likely he’ll miss class and so my "note to self" is: take good notes in class today.

I walk back into the bathroom. The putrid smell of stale vomit and urine is overpowering, as always, and I instinctively hold my breath. It's not until I turn the shower on and smell my soap each morning that I can breath regularly again. While the water slowly warms up I cross the bathroom to take a piss and notice a spent rubber congealed to the urine cake at the base of the urinal. I think to myself "gross — but at least they are practicing safe sex,” then I chuckle to myself at the thought of walking in on whoever belonged to that condom and the act they were engaged in while using it. I wonder what I would have done...that thought actually makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Here I am, only awake for about 15 minutes and I have encountered a drunk asleep in the hall, vomit (sight and scent!), the overwhelming stench of piss, a spent condom and now, as I contemplate a shower I'm hearing John fart so loud and long it almost sounds fake — but the sound of his grunting that follows assures me the farts are indeed real and I do not stick around to experience the odor! I wonder again, not for the first time, why it is I wanted so desperately to live on campus...I mean I basically told my mother I would die if she didn't let me — yes, I am prone to exaggeration! Anyway, its mornings like this that make me glad I can hop on a bus and get home to Rittenhouse in about 20 minutes and take a bath and eat real food and hang out with my dog and my little sister and just get away from all of this madness that is my dorm life...

OK. Enough contemplating my own existence. I have to get going and I know when I start thinking life thoughts I can get lost in that world so my next move is to instinctively look for my Paul Mitchell products which should — key word "should" — be on the counter where we all keep our stuff. I quickly realize, again, my conditioner is empty and my shampoo bottle is missing its top. I am reminded how my mom is about ready to kill me over my levels of "hair product consumption" since I moved into the dorm — she thinks I have some control over who uses my stuff. I don't. She wants me to carry my hair and body washes in this silly caddy thing to the bathroom each day and I keep telling her no way would I be caught dead doing that but TBH I am just about fed up with this. I will say I am pretty sure I know who is using my stuff though, but if it is him I really don't care...I owe this guy big time. My good buddy Brian, who I owe my current A in politics to, seem to always smell of Paul Mitchell and yet he uses, like, VO5...go figure? Honestly, if it wasn't for him and his editing skills my grade in that course would likely be a C. I am so lucky to have such a brain living just four doors away. This guy is so into reading and editing and helping everyone on our floor. We are all so lucky. I wonder what my life would be like if I didn't dorm and instead lived at home? Each of the guys on my floor offers something helpful in my college existence — Brian is the brain and the "go to" man for course help, John is the muscle and helps with all lifting and protecting, Josh knows everyone so he is our party connection, Asan has a real head for negotiating and deal-making, my roommate Steve is the guy who gets all the ladies to visit our floor and I'm the guy with the car. Whenever we need anything off campus I drive. I'm not allowed to park my car on campus so I bike home and get it whenever we want to go shopping.

Post shower, on my way back down the hall I agreed with myself I would not take more than a cursory glance at Josh — basically checking to see if he still has a pulse — so as not to disturb him or bring attention to him. That latter thought makes me chuckle — "bring attention to him" Ha ha ha! Too funny. As I round the corner to exit the bathroom I am quite shocked…and relieved...to realize Josh's body has moved — either by will or by force. I stop at the door of his room and give a light tap. His roommate Vincent comes to the door..."All good?' I ask. He says "yeah, I'm cool — what’s up"? Then I direct my gaze past him to Josh's bed where his body is flopped, still fully clothed, still embellished with vomit stains on his cheek and arm and still wearing his Timberland boots fully laced up! "Oh man, you mean him...well I can't speak for him right now but I'm sure he'll be cool after he sleeps it off". "Agreed" I reply — "I think his hang-over is going to be memorable". We both laugh and I say "look, if he needs anything or you need any help with him let me know — He did me a solid last week when I was in a head not so dissimilar so I owe him one.” "Will do" Vincent says as I head back to my room.

Vincent is a decent guy and I suspect they are — as roommates — a good match. As far as my roommate — Cal...A.K.A. Romeo — one could never discern if we would or would not have made good roommates because he is rarely — I actually mean NEVER — here. He met this Senior exchange student from Rome on his third night on campus. She lives in a single over near where the food trucks park at the edge of campus and basically from the first night they hooked up he has slept, ate, studied and, well, had sex in her room for the entirety of his first semester at college.

When we were matched up in June we started texting. To be honest we did seem to have a lot in common — tennis, business, art, music and reading. We shared Instagrams and so I knew he had this serious three year high school relationship with this hot chick from New Jersey. Every third pic was Camilla in a bikini and Cal's face buried in her huge tits. Camilla had one of those bodies that are naturally fit and she's athletic so everything looked...well, excellent! Her hair was long and lush in this chestnut brown tone and her eyes this unusual hazel shade and I did think to myself it was going to be hard for him to be away from her — she is only just now a high school senior — because there likely is a line of guys just itching to get at her. When we met at orientation he professed his undying love for her and told me he gave her a "promise ring". I knew a few girls who had received "promise rings" in my high school — one of them was gifted one that was larger than most women's engagement rings — and I used to joke that the only purpose they served was to keep a girl faithful...but the guys went on cheating like mad! Whatever, to each his own. Anyway, the day he moved into our room Camilla came with his parents. In person she was even more stunning and she had this very alluring voice — sort of sweetly deep in timbre -- and I could not take my eyes off of her. When on night three I looked across the room at a house party we were at in South Philly and saw Cal's tongue deep in the throat of the petite, dark, mature Italian exchange student we had been introduced to when we arrived I could hardly believe my eyes!!! I mean it was shock beyond belief!!! I did not see him leave that night and I did not see one sighting of him for that entire first weekend. Then Sunday evening, as I came back from the dining hall with Asan, John and Josh, there he was with her in our room. Her accent was just as adorable as I remembered it in our brief encounter a few days before and just as striking. They were giggling and he was packing a bag and he looked up and said "Hey Alex, this is Marina, you remember her...from the house party" “Sure," I said, extending my hand for her to shake. She took my hand, leaned in and kissed me on both cheeks. I am so sure I blushed and then she said "Hello friend, so nice for you to have me". I laughed — thinking yes it would be VERY "nice for me to have you" but clearly THAT is not gonna happen! Cal informs me, with few words and no detail, that he will be staying at Marina's "for a while". I immediately glanced at the overly adorable HUGE "bulletin board of love" that contained about a million pics of him and Camilla that was hanging over Cal's desk — and that Marina was now intensely staring at — and then back at him. He shrugged his shoulders and said “yeah, man, that was rough but I gotta move on.” OUCH! crass at its most intense! YIKES. SO this is love. Who knew?

I noted he only packed about three days of clothes so I thought ... ok, by Thursday or Friday he'll be back so I better not get too comfortable with the idea of a single...Oh if only I knew then what I know now and how those three words — "for a while" — would literally change the course of my Freshman year at college. Needless to say I have caught fleeting sight of Cal a few times at parties and once when he came to collect more clothes and his running shoes but that’s it! Now "our" (my) room is officially known as Alex's Airbnb. I am not so sure Cal knows much if anything about his (and I would like to keep it that way...) but there you have it. It works like this: The vacant bed in my room, that was Cal's, is now "rented out" for use when someone has a roommate who wants to bring a girl — or guy — back to his room. It’s administered by a sharp business student, Asan, who is probably my best mate in the dorm. He cooked up the scheme one Friday night when John kicked his roommate into the hall and we found him sleeping there. I offered him Cal's bed and went to Asan's room to hang out and watch some YouTube videos. Asan got this idea that in the morning I should let everyone know I had a vacant bed in my room and anyone could use it for 25 bucks. I told him I could not be bothered and I really did not need the hassle or the 25 bucks. He persisted though, and, given that he needed to devise some business scheme for one of his courses, I agreed — but only if he “administrated” the project. I did think, rather naively, that maybe he would rent it out ten or twelve times and then that would be that so I really wouldn’t need to pay too much attention to this project. Nothing to worry about! Ha Ha HA! famous last words..."nothing to worry about!?” Rarely is there a night I sleep in my room alone! Yes, I have a single....but I am almost never alone. Asan found someone who needed the bed the very next night after our conversation. He found someone for the next night, and then the next. He started to book it out several days in advance. Now the bed is also available hourly in the mornings and afternoons (at a rate of $15 for three hours!) and there have even been some girls who have rented the bed for a night. I am of course a complete gentleman and nothing untoward has commenced with any of them. TBH none of them have been even remotely hot but everyone has been so kind...even the drunk ones. I admit this is all rather bizarre — to open my bedroom door and see an outstretched hand attached to a nervous person leaping from the bed saying "Hi, I'm Kate...or Whitman...or Daniel”…or to see some huge guy’s nearly naked body asleep on Cal's bed and me standing there worried about waking a sleeping giant. Many people are now return customers and many people have started charging their roommates the $25 fee for the inconvenience. One guy even told his roommate the fee is $30 and he pockets the extra five. Sharp business man!

Asan (who is currently working on an upgrade that will net US these extra fees…) has been true to his commitment to "administrate" and people now know know him as “Superhost," which is an apt nickname for him because along with running an error-free schedule he does an excellent job of keeping the toiletries stocked (of course from the stash that my mom refreshes incessantly) and changing the sheets — a job I would never do and frankly rarely gets done on my bed. I mean, my mom asked me a few weeks ago if i needed anything. I said yeah, I need my sheets changed…I was half joking about my poor laundry habits…but, sure enough, my mom sent the woman who cleans her apartment over to the dorm to collect my stale sheets and she re-sheeted my bed so fresh and nice and even swept my room and vacuumed my carper and dusted! WOW — I thought when i saw it — my room is actually quite cool. My mom is good like that — she spoils us rotten and I know I'm somewhat of a lazybones because of it but I am always so grateful and I said thank you about ten times and called my mom very grateful for all she does for me — and all the guys on my floor. She sends monthly "Floor care packages" — a laundry basket stuffed with everything we all love...Oreos, peanut butter, goldfish, healthy granola and more…and, of course, cases of bottled water. My mom is obsessed with me NOT drinking Philly tap. She is sooooooo skeptical of city tap water. That annoys me but it’s her thing so I let it slide.

Starting in late October "Alex's Airbnb" got its own app — NO SHIT: I told you Asan was brilliant — and now it regularly brings in about $200-240 a week and of that Asan takes a 35% cut so I make $140-$160 a week. While that is sweet the result is I have absolutely NO privacy at all. None. Zero. Zilch! Also, my room door has to remain unlocked. On top of all of this our RA, Harrison, is starting to get annoyed with the whole thing and threatened Asan with a need to be "cut in.” I’ve placated him with these cases of Vita Water and boxes of blueberries and smoked salmon my mom has sent to me every four or five days. (I did tell you she is obsessed with me eating a healthy diet...didn't I?) Harrison loves that stuff and I am, frankly, sick of it so it’s a win/win...for now!

My Airbnb has made me a rather popular guy and everyone is so cool with me and Asan — I think it’s because they have to be out of fear they could need our services at any moment! The guys on my floor are like family to me already. We would do anything for each other. I have never felt such a bond so quickly with unrelated humans but I guess this is the normal outcome of communal living. We see each other for most of our waking (and sleeping) hours each day. Trust me, it’s not all great: these are the humans I have to thank — not! — for my two-day hangover last weekend and for introducing me to that wack girl from the third floor who I could not get rid of for three weeks and for our two-week probation over the colored water and suds in the fountain stunt…but, hey, this is dorm life and these are now my peeps.

On our floor there is a wide mix of students and I have to admit I do think there are those living here who would rather be elsewhere — like the two foreign exchange students who are Juniors and basically they are these mature men living among a floor of boys. Aldo is from Israel and Benyamin is from Denmark and they are marketing majors studying here to hone their marketing skills in the marketing capital of the world — "if you can't sell it to an American, it can't be sold" is the attitude I think the rest of the world has about Americans. Embarrassingly, I think that statement has many elements of truth. I notice these two can often be found in our floor lounge or in other campus locations asking questions or requesting that people fill out surveys. They have approached me a few times. I'm polite and I give general answers but I have this thing about giving too much away to future marketeers — I look at it this way: you gotta be pretty keen to learn my habits as I am a person of change and I rarely listen to the same music or take the same route or eat the same meal. I suspect my close friends could predict my actions or responses — this is not a comforting thought — in some situations but I'm actually an intensely private person and so giving hints about my likes and dislikes to marketing majors so they can lump me into a category with the rest of these clowns is NOT something I want to be a part of my reality as a college Freshman. They are innocent enough and I get they have task to complete but I would rather be left out of it.

Speaking of Benyamin — he is in my Stats class where I am headed after Lit. I am the only Freshman in that course. I scored the highest level on the Math assessment and my adviser is keen to use me as a test subject to see if a Freshman can handle advanced Stats "out of the gate" as she says. I currently have a course grade of 105% so um, yeah, some of us can. Benyamin is struggling — I think it might be the language barrier but whatever the reason the night before the mid-term exam I saw him in the lounge looking so damned stressed out. I offered him a Vita Water and gave him some encouraging advice — I said, “look, you know this material and, plus, numbers have no language barrier.” He told me after the exam that my words helped him — a lot — during the exam. I received a perfect score on the mid-term and he got an 89% which he admitted is waaaaaay better than he has done all semester, so, it’s moments like this that I think, wow, my just being here has enriched someone’s life.

The dining hall at this hour its filled with mindless students — mostly Freshman — just jonesing for strong coffee and a bagel and then heading straight out the door. I have noticed that people only hang out in there for long periods on weekend mornings — and that, again, is so different for me because on weekends I stop in to snag a coffee but then I head to my Mom's and enjoy a home cooked brunch — tormenting my sister Maya and roughhousing with my Mom's new puppy Miracle and just exhaling from the week that was. I have stopped sleeping in my comfy bed at home on Saturday nights because I have discovered, albeit rather late in the semester, a social life of sorts playing some pretty intense ping pong in my dorm basement. Many are the hours we can pass down there — I need this as my substitute for tennis as I have only played a total of six times and I have not found one person who is at my level but I’m always just so grateful to grip the racquet and hit the ball and move around out on the court. Maybe that is the most disappointing point of Cal moving out of our room — I had fantasies of us on the courts expending our excess energy through the sport we are both so passionate about but, alas, he has likely found his new sport — sex — so much more fulfilling and I have given up hope of finding a tennis partner and now I have set my sights on being our dorm table tennis champion! I have to get much better — or lady luck needs to come for a visit — if I'm going to hope to beat Chen and Jason but I am giving it a good shot.

I have lately realized that on my "short days" like today — when I only have two classes — I have been trying to socialize more. These days, I usually give the lounge a try and I have even branched out across the campus and get lunch every few days at a cafe that is primarily filled with Juniors and Seniors. I met a cool bunch of engineering dudes introduced to me by one of my Airbnb "guests" Whitman. He and this "team" of dudes are making this rocket and I sometimes go back with them to their warehouse lab and watch them work. I’ve even given a suggestion or two a few times and they love having another math mind around as it’s all about the numbers if that thing is going to get off the ground. I willingly sit and work some calculations and I really like the sense of brotherhood I derive from those fleeting experiences.

So, yeah...Freshman year dorm life...hmmmmm, what do I REALLY think of it…? I think you should ask me during the holiday break when I will have some perspective and can take stock in what I have experienced and learned. Is it all it promised (all I imagined it) to be? This I can say for sure: not by a long shot, but I think this has as much to do with those promises and my imagination as with what has actually really happened to me and because of me and who I am — and who I am becoming. I am committed to giving it another semester and you never know...anything can happen and I'm always ready for the next bizarre turn. That is what makes this life so wonderful — accepting what we are given when we have no control and changing what we can to make it everything we can wish for!