#I’m in one of the most loneliest periods of my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingmbappe · 1 year

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The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

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virgo-dream · 6 months

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10 fandoms / 10 characters / 10 tags

tagged by the wonderful @seiya-starsniper! thank you for the tag friend ✨

1. Loki (MCU)

Look, this is the undisputed number one spot. Loki has been my ride or die for the past 14 years (!!!), my first tattoo is dedicated to him, and he’s the character that got me through the loneliest and scariest periods of my life. Loki will always be my number one, tbh.

2. Dream of the Endless (The Sandman)

Now, Dream is the character that simply bust down the doors to my heart and took residence, no questions asked. Through Dream and The Sandman fandom I was able to connect to parts of my identity I wasn’t aware of, and to make so many great friends! Dream means a lot to me (so much so that my *second* tattoo is of the dreamstone— in a grand total of two lol)

3. Edward Elric (Full Metal Alchemist)

Ed is the blueprint of the pissed off short king tbh. I always related to how he dealt with guilt and how driven he is, and his character arc was one of the most captivating I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience. As a 14 year old, I would for real go out in public wearing his red cloak.

4. Chrono (Chrono Crusade)

If I have unreasonable expectations of Love, Chrono is the one to blame. Throughout the entire show (and the manga, which I do feel has the better ending) his dedication and kindness to the people he loves and cares about was just incredibly captivating to a 12 year old Virgo. Real character building stuff.

5. Sora (Kingdom Hearts)

Sora had the sickest shoes and my taste for unreasonably large and perhaps sorta ugly sneakers comes from him for sure. I just love that spiky little guy.

6. Raven (Teen Titans)

Raven was honestly the first character that made me go “she’s just like me fr!” There was always something super fascinating about her, and how complex she is. It was nice seeing female characters like her and Starfire in cartoons.

7. Howl Pendragon (Howl’s Moving Castle)

I identify with Howl in many ways, but mostly in how dramatic and absolutely pathetic he is. Also I do feel like a monster sometimes and a way to visualise that is to imagine I’m covered in green slime.

8. Haruhi Fujioka (Ouran High School Host Club)

Ouran should have been my queer awakening, but I think I was too young to realise I was what a large part of my identity was unlocked through this character. Main girlie with a drag queen dad that doesn’t bow to gender norms and just , wants to be left alone please leave her alone she doesn’t want all the trouble come on—

9. Chihiro (Spirited Away)

She was a child, in a shitty situation, learning to find strength within herself to keep going, to trust her instincts, to keep surviving. She means so much to me!

10. Nick Nelson (Heartstopper)

Nick is just oddkdkdkdkdkddkfo he’s allowed me to have good feelings about bisexuality!!! About my teenage bi experience!!! The whole of Heartstopper, really, but Nick’s kindness and his whole journey of self discovery helped heal something in me. Good retriever boyfriends for the win!

Bonus: 11. Bucky Barnes (MCU)

I didn’t want to repeat a fandom, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Bucky. Another character that I just immediately clicked with, and watching him be developed in so many different movies (and even a tv show!) was very special.

tagging: @chiron-crow, @softest-punk, @aquilathefighter, @the-cloudy-dreamer, @staroftheendless, @bruce-wayne-simp, @immacaria, @tj-dragonblade, @rooftopwreck, @valeriianz

#this was so difficult omg????#like forreal it took me a minute to figure out the last one #tag game #tag meme #thanks for the tag friend!!!!#I cannot believe I. just . said for the win #but I did

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artbookisland · 1 year

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What I’m reading these days #5

Previously:

* What I’m reading these days #01 * What I’m reading these days #02 * What I’m reading these days #03 * What I’m reading these days #04

Hey everyone, I hope you're doing all right! It's been a long while since I wrote one of these posts, almost 5 years actually... Yeah, recently I've been more focused on sharing scans than texts like these or artbook reviews, sorry!

Anway, these days I'm reading four cool books at once so I figured I could make you (re)discover something, so let's go!

What a surprise, yes, I'm reading Dragon Ball again, last time was 6 years ago so I thought I could revisit this cool universe that always brings me back to my childhood. In France we have a "Perfect Edition" which has a bigger format than usual mangas, a new translation and all the original colour pages so it's a great pleasure to read! I'm always in awe when looking at Toriyama's watercolours, they were absolutely beautiful.

I'm not going to dive much further into Dragon Ball because I've already talked about it a lot, maybe take a look at this old article.

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Now something completely different, if you are an avid TV show enthusiast, you might have watched the sci-fi show The Expanse. I discovered it after a few seasons had already aired and really enjoyed it (except maybe the last two seasons which had some flaws in my opinion). I quickly learned that before being on TV it was a very good series of books by a couple of authors writing under a single name: James S.A. Corey. So naturally I started buying and reading these books, loved them and realised that the adaptation was quite good. It took some years but I eventually finished reading the nine books and at that moment, just when I thought I was out of this amazing universe, I saw that there was a collection of The Expanse short stories published under the title Memory's Legion.

So that's what I'm reading right now and just like the rest of the series, it's very cool and definitely fills some interesting holes in the Expanse's lore (plus I always enjoy good sci-fi short stories)! You will learn a little bit more about the guy who came up with the Epstein drive that made space travel a lot easier in the story, the backstory of a cruel but intriguing character (Cortazar), the life of a young Amos (even before he was called Amos), etc. It's a very good read if, like me, you've finished the main series and still want more!

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Let's keep our heads towards the sky for this next book: Moonfire by Norman Mailer. I stumbled upon it in a bookstore in Lyon, France and the cover immediately caught my eye. It's a small but thick book which contains as much text as photos from NASA's Apollo 11 mission (the first time humans beings walked on the Moon back in 1969). Being an astronomy and space exploration fan I just had to buy it and I'm glad I did!

Actually I thought it would be a historico-scientific recollection of this incredible event of the XXth century but that's because I didn't know Norman Mailer! I will let you read his Wikipedia page but he wasn't "just" a writer, he also was a journalist, a poet, an essayist and so on. So instead of simply telling us what happened in that important period of human history, he includes himself in the story as a character and shares his thoughts about the situations, the people, the technology, etc. It makes for a surprising yet very interesting read as he takes this unique opportunity to analyze, criticize even our modern society and more specifically the USA's society of the time.

I'm about halfway through the book and I really enjoy Mailer's way of telling the story but also the incredible photos of the event, most of them taken during the mission itself by astronauts Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins, I cannot stop looking at these shots and wonder what their experience was like. They freakin' walked on another celestial body (actually only two of them did while Collins was busy being the loneliest person in the history of Human life, flying above the far side of the Moon)!

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A couple of my friends work at a local comic book shop and thanks to them I often discover very cool comics, mangas and bandes dessinées (what we call european comics in France). Also it's worth mentioning that the french publisher Urban Comics (they publish a lot of american comics here) is trying to make a selection of their books more affordable and compact for people who don't have much money or space in their home that they can dedicate to comic books. And so in this effort they have started a collection called "Urban Nomad" in which all prices are below 10€ (approx. 10 USD). The first one I picked is Watchmen.

I have watched the movie adaptation when it came out... 14 years ago (ouch!) and really liked it but kind of forgot about it, which is a good thing because now I can re-discover the story in its original format: on paper!

And what a story! Since the first pages I was sucked in by the strength of writer Alan Moore, artist Dave Gibbons and colorist John Higgins. The story is so good and feels so contemporary that I have to keep reminding myself that this was made in 1986-87! If you don't know anything about Watchmen I won't spoil it for you but the story takes place in a version of our world where masked vigilantes are already has-been, one of the reasons being the accidental transformation of a man into a God-like version of himself. Because of this event, the course of history is different from the one we know and live in, and in this context one of the few remaining masked vigilantes (pictured on the cover) is investigating a series of murders among his former colleagues. This is all extremely well integrated into the politico-historic context of the time (though once again it's somewhat different from our reality) and it's easy to recognize the quality of Moore and Gibbons' work!

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Well, that's it for now, I hope you've discovered something, if so let me know! And I'll try not to wait five more years to write a "What I'm reading these days" again. See ya!

#books #comics #manga #Dragon Ball #Akira Toriyama #James SA Corey #The Expanse #Moonfire #Norman Mailer #Watchmen #Alan Moore #Dave Gibbons #John Higgins

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mschupacabra · 10 months

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❤️🐐

tagged by @asprinklingofleaves for the FIRST LINES MEME: “List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!”

Tagging: @modisalive, @bambeptin, @sparky-cryptidcrafts, @verntheauthor, and anyone else who feels comfortable enough to participate in this game.

Fanworks:

1. [The Multiverse’s Loneliest Repairman - Marvel]

The most painful part of rekindling a relationship was realizing all the little qualities and quirks he missed the first time around.

Harry was more interested in athletics than he was in academics. If Norman had paid more attention the first time, perhaps he could have nurtured that talent and helped him on his way to becoming a star athlete. The way his son talked about different sports teams demonstrated an aptitude for a field Norman had previously disregarded as worthless. Truthfully, when Harry had begun to perform miserably in school, Norman had given up. He had given his son all the support he needed to be successful, sending him to the best schools; their family had so many resources at their disposal. He couldn't understand why his son underperformed in everything he had a headstart in.

2. [Summer - Marvel]

The natural landscape of the earth had been sidelined to make way for the sidewalks and roads. Any trees or shrubs allowed to stay remained at the edges of his sight. They were still lovely in the summertime: lush, dark green, and at their peak richness. Whatever bloomed were hardy bushes– roses mainly, the state flower. It was the transition period between two seasons, before the arrival of the oppressive summer heat and after the torrential downpour of spring. Peter had stuck himself onto the side of a pedestrian bridge, mask rolled up to his nose, glumly starting on his bagel. It was pretty pathetic that he’d been looking forward to it all day. He could have moaned at the taste of the cheese spread hitting his tongue but thankfully bit it back, letting the pleased sounds die in his throat. On the second bite, he did actually make a sound.

3. [Malunion - Generator Rex]

As a rule, it was white pieces that moved first in the game of Chess.

'Better you than me,' she thought without real pleasure at the raw screams flooding the hall. Only a tortured expression of agony carried the weight needed to pierce through the thick walls. It was agony and it was fear; the terror of a man who was going to die, but could not so much as think of death because the pain wouldn’t let him.

4. [Brown Eyes - Generator Rex]

Rust ate at the inside of the walls, the stench of corroding metal putrefied the prison cell’s little space. He tried not to dwell on the burning in his nose; while difficult to ignore, it was bearable. Instead, Caesar directed his thoughts toward more productive avenues, the only thing he was left capable of doing. Isolated from his team, his only company was thought, which he considered a small mercy. It was not that he needed the mental escape. To pretend that his circumstances were different would do him no actual good. Never once in his life had he ever tried fooling himself about anything. He appreciated the straightforward truths of reality that many often saw as cruelty. He knew better. Fact was benevolent enough not to lie.

5. [The Other Brother - Generator Rex]

Caesar was a huge freak. Sometimes his behavior was just too much to bear– like his annoying tendency to lose his disgusting lab rats in the house. Inevitably, his stupid rodents would find their way into other rooms, tearing through electrical wiring, books, and clothing. Rare were the days Rex didn't have to watch his step in fear that he'd crush one, but the temptation was certainly always there.

6. [Las Mañanitas - Generator Rex]

"This is the morning song that King David used to sing. Because today is your birthday, I’m singing it here for you. Wake up, my dear, wake up! Look at what has already dawned...”

The lights were abruptly switched on, making him squeeze his eyes shut tighter. He was roused from his sleep much earlier than he would have ever voluntarily risen. In annoyance, he tried to go back to sleep and blot out the sound that was irritating his ears. Rolling over onto his stomach, he yanked a pillow over his head to hide from the brightness of the room. His sleep-addled brain could barely process that he was being sung to. The lyrics were just noise to his ears; it was too much noise for the early morning.

7. [Say it with Flowers - Generator Rex]

The chores given to him that day were completed. Six's lessons were finished too. He was often left unable to concentrate on the academic aspects of his studies when so much energy went dedicated to his combative training and on the island’s maintenance.

8. [SoulMates AU - Generator Rex]

She found out at midnight; although, she had already been somewhat aware from her observations of others. Her peers had a preoccupation– a fixation spread onto them by fairy tales. She had not caught the social contagion and likely never would. The dynamic shared between her own parents proved how inconsequential it all was.

9. [Circadian Rhythms - Generator Rex]

Never could he recall being so fond of little silences. If anything, the quiet had previously unnerved him. Perhaps being trapped beneath the Consortium’s thumb for so long had given him a better appreciation for moments of peace. There were no competing voices present to command him and drown his own thoughts out. All of his monitors at his desk were shut off and the morning was nearly still. It was a bit too early for work to begin. The only agents ready for work had delivered White Knight his breakfast.

10. [Caesar’s Personal Dumpster - Generator Rex]

The Null Void was a sea of endless horror. Its most defining quality was the abject lack of hope that could never exist in such a place of despair. The Plumbers had no problem throwing in whoever they considered to be the worst the Universe had to offer. They left them there to rot and forgot about them until the end of time. But even the universe’s worst rejects struggled to endure the hellscape for the rest of their lives. And humans? They could go mad.

11. [He Who Fights Monsters - Generator Rex]

The color white had a pristine quality that made Providence Headquarters appear tidy, neat rooms disguising the state of disarray they were attempting to manage quietly. Black Knight knew the truth. The Consortium wouldn't have considered promoting her if there wasn't a mess left for her to clean up. That was who she was, a failsafe for the moment White Knight slipped. Losing one of the Consortium's assets officially landed him in their superiors' little black book. She couldn't say she was pleased, but couldn't deny the amusement she took from hearing that White had fallen short of their expectations.

Original Works:

1. Cascabel - Unpublished Draft

Summer had bid the wood goodbye; warmer colors were swept in by the winds of Autumn, contrasting the cool air they arrived with. September showered the little apple orchard with brittle leaves, blanketing the floor in amber and red foliage. Fruit that had not yet been stolen by the swallows was slowly spoiling off of its branches, pelting the ground with an abundance of half-fermented apples. Amid the yellowing grass, a small body began nodding off after having taken advantage of such easy access to food. Fresher fruit was always difficult to obtain when a number of birds wouldn’t hesitate to tear smaller, fragile creatures to shreds. It wasn’t impossible to reason with them. Corvids and owls especially loved to haggle but because of the danger they posed, not many dared.

2. Untitled - Unpublished The only thing pretty about the face staring back at him was the fact that it was being reflected off of the shiny side mirror of a beautiful car. It was a black convertible, one of those sleek Impalas with a retractable roof he would only ever have the privilege of brushing clean. Though beautiful, it was in horrid shape. The door was riddled with small, dime-sized holes. He didn’t know how a car could get so wrecked to shit, but he didn’t ask questions-- not because the customers were all shifty fucks. Even if they hadn’t been, he plainly didn’t care. He was too tired, too ready to drop dead to be wide-eyed and curious. Maybe that was healthier.

He was among the living, he guessed.

3. Goat - Unpublished

To keep the meat from rotting, the store was kept at near-freezing temperatures. She could see her breath from her unmasked lips ghosting in front of her like the spirit was leaving her body. When she moved near enough to inspect the display case of meats, the warmth from her breath made the cool windows fog up, too. Behind the glass sat a selection of beef, chicken, pork, and fish in orderly containers within the refrigerator. Death was not very romantic; the butcher’s shop was proof. The entire shop smelled like raw animal carcasses, sterile cleaning products, and faintly of blood. Certainly, it was true that death could be brutal and violent; red stained the butcher’s cutting board as he did away with the head of dead poultry in the back room.

The movies and books had it wrong, though.

Romantic?

No.

As messy and painful as death was, it was very simple: one moment you were here and then you weren’t.

My favorite opening Line: I like the way I started Malunion, but it’s difficult to pick a favorite because I only remember being stuck trying to figure out how to start.

Recurring Pattern: When I don’t know how to begin, I tend to describe the environment, which I didn’t notice before. Thank you for tagging me in this game to give me a chance to reflect.

#myscribbles #I should put more effort into my original stories too especially Goat since its my favorite but I get too easily unmotivated #Also I was embarrassed to be tagged in this at first because MisterKingdom is a REALLY really good writer.#So I tagged some writers who I also think are really cool !#my hands: permanently glued to my face

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goodlesson · 1 year

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peyt’s top 10 albums released in 2022

this list was genuinely SO hard to put together!! i feel like every artist i love dropped new music this year thanks to all the studio time they had during the first couple years of the pandemic. sorry to all the great albums that didn’t make the cut - it’s not you, it’s me. 🫠

these are absolutely NOT in order because that would be an impossible task. and now, without further ado, i’ll put my rambling below:

1. give me the future + dreams of the past by bastille

i’m sure no one is surprised to see this one on my list. if you ARE surprised then idk what to tell you. this album was so surprising and different in the best way, especially after how meh i felt about doom days when it was released. thank you for the futuristic grooves mr. dan bastille!!!

top 3: stay awake?, revolution, hope for the future

2. s.i.d.e.s. by alice merton

alice was hands down the best discovery i made this year (thank you again mr. dan bastille). and just in time for her sophomore album!! it’s hard to pinpoint what really makes this album a standout for me. it honestly has it all: great vocals, honest lyrics, catchy hooks. plus alice is just so humble and so cool. how can you not like her?

top 3: future, mania, same team

3. crash by charli xcx

when crash came out, my friend was insistent i listen to it because it was “the best pop album since future nostalgia.” honestly? she was right. this is easily charli’s magnum opus. it’s so good.

top 3: good ones, constant repeat, yuck

4. 5sos5 by 5 seconds of summer

as soon as they released me myself & i as a single i knew this album was going to be It. truly their best work. one of the best parts of listening to 5sos over the years has been hearing their sound mature and this album feels like the culmination of that maturation.

top 3: me myself & i, bad omens, carousel

5. five seconds flat by lizzy mcalpine

every single song on this record feels like a hammer straight to the chest. lizzy’s lyrics are some of the best stuff i’ve heard in ages. this has to be not just one of the best albums on my list but objectively one of the best albums of the year period.

top 3: erase me, doomsday, all my ghosts

6. conditions of a punk by half•alive

they dropped half of this album back in february as give me your shoulders pt. i and at the time i was fully ready to stick that on my “best of” list - then the rest of the album came out just this month. no one is doing it like half alive. no one. they are so singularly themselves in their sound, their lyrics, and their live performances/visuals. i can’t believe they’re not being hailed as geniuses by music critics everywhere.

top 3: hot tea, nobody, make of it

7. the loneliest time by carly rae jepsen

queen carly hath returned!! once again she has crafted the perfect pop record. listen - i know i’m aromantic but this woman’s music just makes me want to be in love sooooooo bad.

top 3: beach house, anxious, talking to yourself

8. faith in the future by louis tomlinson

the main takeaway from this album is that louis really was the heart and soul of 1d’s songwriting in the later years. his sound on this record is so reminiscent of midnight memories in the best way. this is what i was hoping his debut would sound like - and while walls didn’t quite make the mark, this record most definitely did.

top 3: holding on to heartache, common people, lucky again

9. apocalypse whenever by bad suns

this record is light and fun and i love it. no thoughts just bops. while i do miss bad suns’ language & perspective era grittiness, i dig their newer sound just as much.

top 3: life was easier when i only cared about me, when the world was mine, peachy

10. cleanse by joywave

a perfect transition from possession at the start of the pandemic to now. i knew this record would be great when they dropped the every window is a mirror EP last year and “after coffee” took over my life. and i was right!!

top 3: after coffee, cyn city 2000, buy american

other solid albums that ~just~ missed out on my list:

girl of my dreams by fletcher

stick season by noah kahan

emails i can’t send by sabrina carpenter

midnights by taylor swift

sonder by dermot kennedy

what a most excellent year for music! thanks, 2022!

#peyton speaks

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lydiathane · 2 years

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Prompt #5: Cutting Corners

The times were getting dire and I knew it. I think about it constantly, ruminate on how I let it get so bad, what the turning point was where I became a danger. I’ve never looked at myself that way, you know? All my life, I’ve been a predator for one thing only, and I would never characterize it as being afraid of me, because what can the Void really fear when all it knows is appetite? What did it ever have to fear when it could just as easily drag me under, too? For the longest time, I was controlled even when I knew I was compromised; I worked out a system, albeit something of a shameful one, and I kept satiated on the aetherial table scraps of what devils I slayed. Fair’s fair, isn’t it? It was my one way to prove my worth to the world in exchange for letting me live this unnaturally long, shitty little existence. Where did it go wrong?

At the cusp of annihilation, I let myself go. When the blasphemies came, I had one last burst of courage to face what came and try to live with a modicum of dignity in case it all went to shit. And when I couldn’t take the pressure of putting my sword through beasts who had only just been children, or families I had only just tried to comfort right in front of my fucking eyes, I walked away. I turned tail and became a glutton on The Basilisk to watch the sunset of humanity from the center of an orgy and grew sloppy with my discipline from there on out. Even when the apocalypse was cancelled, I never came back from that. I let the hunger and madness take root like some shitty little weed, and what started as a perfectly manageable issue became a spread of pernicious, deep-rooted tangles slowly killing me within.

What started as intrigue after a motley group of Garleans rescued me into their autocarriage became a smoldering coal, and technology quickly filled the role of the first real hobby I ever let myself have that didn’t involve gambling or getting fucked up. And when I finally had the chance to turn my newly-kindled interest in magitek into a job, I jumped on it without hesitation, because who in their right mind wouldn’t? But it was about more than just passion, I wasn’t ready to go back to my former life, I wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for me, and most of all I wasn’t even sure it was safe for me to do it. So instead, I spent my days in the old man’s garage with my arms buried in machine guts, inhaling fuel vapors until I’m sure my insides turned blue (thankfully, decades of smoking prepared me). Did you know combusted ceruleum puts off aether? It’s noxious, but what about me wasn’t at the point I was huffing dregs to ward off the growing chasm of hunger? You’d think this was a red flag for me to turn my shit around, a complete five-alarm fire blazing bells at me to pay attention to my needs, to stop trying to run from the rot and just turn and face it. The days were a blur. I didn’t face it.

At this point, I was doing periodic tours back in Garlemald to meet with a rescue corps comprised of native Garleans who knew how to operate machinery, and Eorzean aid groups who were still reaching remote parts of Ilsabard to convince the locals to come out of hiding and save them from a certain death. I had a clever system in place, one that I thought harmless. No, even worse, I thought it was for the greater good. I volunteered for the longest hauls, the loneliest stretches where I knew I’d be driving for twelve, fourteen hours at a time. Nobody wanted it, but where else do I exist except at the margins? I volunteered gladly for reasons nobody could comprehend, but what better time to safely take my fill of a living entity than when they were sleeping in the passenger’s seat? This unique means of sating myself meant my extra provisions could be shared with them since I didn’t need it. It meant that if the vehicle broke down in the middle of that white hell (and it did, on more than one occasion), my odds of survival remained higher than if I were any ordinary fuck.

With every route, I found myself less satisfied with the measured amount I was taking, so I’d keep pushing myself to work longer days, to pick up more passengers, always more. The problem with this plan is that at some point, you start doing your job so well that the passengers become fewer and farther between as a natural result, and any normal fucking person would’ve been happy about that. There are not an unlimited number of people who need help when fleeing a dead nation, but me and this hunger, we had no bottom, we saw no end. It had been at least a week that I was driving and refueling and driving and refueling when I found a remote farm that had yet to be checked over for signs of life. My wicked heart skipped a beat when I saw fresh footprints leading around the property...

There’s a lot here you can call a confession, but how fucked is it that the worst part of it all is something I still can’t bring myself to say? I’m not ready to talk about it. I thought I was, but I can’t, and I don’t think anyone would understand even if I tried. I’m still too ashamed of the result of letting my curse fester, and anyone can put two and two together about what happens when a wolf tends your flock. They needed me, and I’ll never forgive myself.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #lydia #garlemald #ffxiv #ff14

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annoyinggirldoll · 20 days

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“My life is just constant repeating karmic cycles”

I think about the video I saw with that message as I walk home in the spring heat. This is the loneliest period of my life to date. I know deep down that its a good thing. I still have one friend, my mother, my father, youtube. I have the choice to go with my father this summer who will take me anywhere I please, or I have the option to stay here and gain proper working experience. I have options, thats more than most can ask for.

And yet, this is the loneliest time of my life. Summer is readily approaching, with only 4 more weeks of school left. Its supposed to be the happiest time of any teenagers life. It’s time to hangout with your friends free from schoolwork. But I find myself dreading it. Without school, I wont know what to do with myself, I wont know where to put my hands. I have 1 friend, and my one friend has 6.

I find myself yearning for a time where I was someone’s priority. I was once my Exes priority, in my solitude him saying that I was his favorite person echos in my mind. I envy my past self, so full of someone else’s love.

The image of a sickly woman hooked up to an iv chord comes to mind. Past me, hooked up to the life support of another person, being pumped full of admirational phrases to stay alive.

When my breakup first happened I binged watched bojack horseman with a sullen demeanor similar to Annie Lee’s painting “blue Monday”. I’m grateful I watched it then, I think it found me at the perfect time in my life. Among many of the quotes, one sticks with me as I write this, “whenever I was in a relationship it just felt like me in a relationship”. It’s one of those quotes that made me pause my screen and stare in silence for a while.

“Me in a relationship” is exactly how it always feels, all of the time. I am the sickly woman dependent on another life support, or an addict looking for the next hit of someone’s love; sometimes, a leech.

And as im alone again, truly alone for the first time in my life, im coming to terms with my own loneliness. Looking at her face to face.

Sometimes I am unsure of what to say to her.

#the immature musings of a teenage girl #journaling #dear diary #digital diary #breakup #actually bpd #bpd vent #bpd thoughts

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dearsomeonesomething · 1 year

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Dear {former friend},

I’d be lying to say that I didn’t create this blog just to write to you, although there are also many other people that I wish to speak to.

‘Former friend’. How icy and bitter it tastes on the tongue, though these two words are nothing but the truth. Forgive me for using these emotionless words to address you though our fallout was probably laden with negative emotions, for you were the one who posted about me addressing me as such first.

You’ve always struck me as a very stubborn person who held what she believes closely to her heart and protects those she loves fiercely. I used to admire and adore those qualities. I guess they’re still good qualities, but once someone is on your bad side and has fallen off your carefully crafted and fragile moral pedestal, you completely turn your back against them and turn into a different person.

I wonder why it is called “slander” when I talk about you, or other people for that matter, on social media; but you can pour your heart out about me, 5 pages long, in your 2022 review. For your record, not everything you said was the truth as well, but I’ve decided to let that go, as I might have uttered some half-truths too in my anger. We all remember things in the version we’re the most comfortable with, after all.

But with your reputation of accusing me of slander, I’ll have to clarify before I go any further:-

Anything I say in this letter/blog post is based on how I remember things played out and the evidences I have, and might be biased in some ways and not fully reflect a neutral truth.

It has hurt me greatly that you’ve even gotten the timeline itself wrong, citing that you started ignoring me in the beginning of 2022. I’ll never forget that night, New Year’s Eve of 2021, lying in the emergency room after a suicidal episode and seeing you talk about cutting me off in your 2021 review (you were not naming names, but I confirmed it was about me with a mutual friend who told me that you would send me a letter explaining why you were unfriending me). The beginning of 2022 was the loneliest period of my life, but I came out of it stronger and a lot more self-reliant, and I guess you’re one of the people I have to thank for it.

The only thing I remember telling you after receiving your letter was

- Me explaining why the trigger was so traumatising to me and why I needed to talk about it on social media.

- Warning you against the other person.

- Telling you that I have felt disconnected to the friend group to begin with before they decided to abandon me.

But you went on your blog and told everyone that I “said mean things” and that you “took everything like a punching bag” because you knew you were in the wrong first.

There is no right or wrong in the matter of friendship. When a friendship reaches its expiry date, the least we could do is let it go gently- without malice. To me, your act of sending a letter to unfriend me is not a gentle one. I have ended a great number of friendships myself, characterised with increasingly delayed replies, meetings that are further and further off in between… it could be a “let it go slowly” thing. It doesn’t have to be abrupt. It doesn’t have to be drama. And I think that you’re a drama queen. But to each their own, we all have our own way of handling stuff. I’m not blaming you for anything. Just letting you know though- if you just stopped replying me forever, I would have wondered, but I would have then gotten on with life. It would have hurt less than the letter.

You ended the part of your blog about me saying that all your friends agreed that you were an ass. Well, I wouldn’t consider you an ass. Just a morally self-righteous person who would turn malicious once someone is no longer able to coddle your wounded inner child like a baby and tick off every checkbox in your morale list. Which is fine when it’s a sunny day. I guess we ventured into stormy territory, and I wouldn’t blame you or myself for that.

My partner read your blog. He said that you sounded empathetic. He might have even believed you when you said that I said mean things if I didn’t show him the chat history itself. You’re such a good storyteller, and I’m not a bad one myself, so here I am, telling my version of the story, risking the accusation of slander because like you, I need closure too.

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universal-catalyst · 1 year

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An ode to tumblr.

i come to this place most often when i feel lonely.

i come here, in part at least, for the rush of social validation i get from it. just reading posts and seeing colourful and comforting images ticks something in my brain, these often one-sided interactions make me feel understood, like i share not just a humanity, but similar interests and questions with millions of other people.

so it’s not surprising i started hanging out in this giant virtual bedroom a few months after moving to canada, when i felt the loneliest, when i first felt what real loneliness was. when i had to construct my sense of self all over again from scratch. it’s been almost twelve years now and i’m still resentful about the person it turned me into, this complete and destructing change, this unnatural uprooting.

proof is i still come here everyday, for the same reason as before : finding a sense of community which i don’t get in my daily life. for dreaming also, for envisioning, and where would i be if i hadn’t found this place to dream when no one else was here to listen to and feed my endless imagination.

all i ever asked for was a friend, ideally a group of them, in one or many places, but people who care for me and who i care for during an extended period of time, ideally for decades, maybe even for life.

this is for all the friends i love, for those i miss, for the ones i’ll never meet, for all those that I’ll get to laugh with in another life. cheers to the most connected, yet loneliest time in human history.

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gyujeongfmd · 1 year

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end the year blues — headcanon, aesthetic & playlist

summary — winter brings earlier nights, and that’s where he inevitably ends up dwelling in the end of the year. the end of the year’s always the hardest and loneliest for gyujeong, despite being the period where he’s the busiest career wise. the paradox brings this familiar melancholic feeling he can’t shake out, and it bleeds into the spring until the weather pulls and flowers start to bloom. winter time blue, seasonal depression — call it what you will, but it’s something that causes late night walks, feeling cold and then finally passing out until the sun rises and it’s time to repeat. playlist summary — end of the year also accounts for more music than usual. his earphones in his ears as he nods off to and from late night schedules, and even during it. the weather calls for some typical winter songs, and the peak of the ballad, slow-music beating through the speakers. beats will fall through from the time he wakes up till he falls asleep as he calls this his “white noise” getting him through the winter drought. perhaps, maybe in some warped world, he’d be listening to happier music getting ready to look forward to what’s to come in 2023 (but that’s not necessarily the case here). wc: 483

1. wine — suji (태연) 2. 나의 모든 날 (all my days) — kim sejeong (김세정) 3. 다시 난, 여기 (here i am again)—baek yerin (백예린) 4. meant to be — baek yerin (백예린) 5. for you — lee hi, crush (이하이 크러쉬) 6. 이번 겨울 (this winter) — kwon jin ah (권진아) 7. always remember us this way — lady gaga 8. 아마도 그건 (perhaps that was love)— 하림 (hareem) 9. come out and play — billie eilish 10. 나랑 갈래 (go with me) — 곽진언 (kwak jin eon)

i’m aware that this playlist sounds / feels a lot more like minjung than gyujeong, but wintertime gyujeong is pretty similar to baseline minjung — aside from the fact that gyu’s probably a bit more sadder? melancholic? in general during this time

it’s less about sad boy hours, and more about just wallowing in wasted time. time feels wasted despite being busy. there’s staff around him constantly, but that sort of crowd just makes the sound feel more deafening to the point where his own voice feels empty

as a result, he’s reverted to just popping in his headphones and drowning out his own misery through the sounds of sad sounding music / crooning ballads

which, normally, he won’t listen to ballads but tis the season! people might be listening to jellyfish’s christmas song, or ariana grande, but gyu won’t budge and he’ll probably even be listening to these songs on christmas night

the thing about this music is that it makes time feel like it’s at a standstill despite it passing, and by now, he just uses it as the soundtrack to his life. meaning: when he wakes up, the playlist is played. and before he goes to sleep, he hits play to listen to it as he falls asleep

though gyu isn’t really a drinker, this is probably his most “experimental” era when it comes to taking a sip of beer or drinking wine. it obviously doesn’t end well because he ends up blacking out because of it, but regardless, he tries because it “fits” the mood.

if not, he spends his nights on walks where he’ll take walks in the cold dead of night when no ones around. basically, music in and he starts walking across hangang until his legs feel too frozen to move any further ,which then becomes his cue to go home.

other times, he’ll ride his bike around — for some reason, he doesn’t like to go on drives during the winter season. there’s no driving around, and more just walking or taking a bike to waste time and drown out feelings of bitter loneliness lmao

but that’s only when he has the time? mainly, end of the year causes really busy schedules for him because of award shows / comebacks that platinum has. thus, he really just gets transported by his manager and free time becomes a luxury (another paradox i know)

again, not really sad boy? but i would just reference winter gyu as an emo kid who says “this isn’t a phase”

less social and less likely to make friends, but if you’re persistent, it’s pretty easy to get him to come out and have a conversation. the initial encounter is the only portion that’s rough though, so someone become his friend during this time : ) he probably needs it

overall, winter gyu is just gloomy. that’s probably the best way to describe him. less angry, and more gloomy.

#노래 더 크게 — 음악 #정신나갔냐 — headcanon #also this is my plotcall to see if anyone wants to give gyujeong a rollercoaster spring luv < 3

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roseofcards90 · 3 years

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Hi, I love all of you <3 I hope you’re all doing well!!

#you guys have helped me through a lot #through one of the most loneliest periods of my life #I know that might sound dumb since I’ve never met any of you but you know 😅#online friends are the best ^^#sorry I’m like really bad at words >_< but just know I wish nothing but the best for you #my posts

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

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Chapter Two.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.7k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 12, 2017

It had been a week and a day since her move to New York, and Luci had never felt lonelier. Don’t get her wrong, she knew it’d only been a week when she had several more weeks to come to make friends and memories, but as she began to settle down into her new home, she felt very alone.

Luci had called her parents approximately eight times within the past week—some of them were twice in one day—and all those calls were due to her loneliness. Ren and Beatrice were starting to get worried, and a bit annoyed despite being glad that their daughter hadn’t forgotten about them, but the calls were getting a little too much. And not much to their surprise, their Lulu always had something to talk about, which she mostly ranted about being a bit nervous and excited about rehearsals.

Currently, Luci was headed to rehearsals as she walked to the Metropolitan Avenue Station, a two minute walk from her apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Knowing her directions and the subway quite well, she got on the G train and got off in Court Square in Queens. She walked five minutes to take the F train towards Manhattan, getting off on 7th Avenue before walking down the street where Broadway Theatre appeared in her sight.

Sighing, she thought about all the people she’d passed by. Seven train stops in total—people walking in and out of the train—less than ten minutes of walking, and despite the amount of people that rode with her on that train, she still felt like she was the loneliest person.

She understood the big city quite well; no one really paid any attention or cared as they just proceeded with their life while simply being someone she passed by and possibly would never see again. Luci would only hope that her new job would help her make friendships and change her view on relationships a bit better; she’s had a few bad relationships in the past, romantic and non-romantic that had messed with her mind throughout the years, but she’d rather not think about the traumatic events that impactfully took a toll on her mental health as she was walking into rehearsals for the first time.

Opening the door, she felt nerves rush through her body as she stepped into the Broadway Theatre where Miss Saigon would be in production for eight months. The theatre would be her home for the rest of the year. She’d work tirelessly, and devote her entire being to the role to be the best actress she could ever be.

All at once as she walked through backstage, it began to hit Luci. This was what she’d been dreaming of, and the realization had hit her hard once she walked through the doors and into the dark hallway that led backstage and the dressing rooms. There was commotion in the direction of the main stage and a few of her fellow cast members that were singing, could easily be heard as she was walking through the halls.

The behind the scenes action came to light once she walked through another doorway. Bright lights from the vanity illuminated the room, there were cast members reading from the script, and a few chatting on the couch. It was everything that she imagined and expected.

Luciana Suki was printed behind a black director’s chair next to the person who was playing the main role of Kim, Daisy Beck. Luci was a bit nervous to introduce herself to Daisy because she was one of the most iconic women on Broadway. She’d been acting on Broadway ever since she was a little girl; her mother was the head of the wardrobe crew and her father was part of the sound crew, so she practically bled and was born into the Broadway Theatre. It was easy for her to get her foot in the door because as her parents were busy, they would take her to the theatre and make her sit front row because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. And when the stage director needed a child to step in, they would have Daisy be in the show, and she would play the part effortlessly. She would stand center stage as the protagonist would sing to them while the bright light would shine upon them. Daisy Beck was a professional in all senses—she was the Meryl Streep of Broadway, and that intimidated Luci even more.

“Hi, Daisy.” Luci greeted, making Daisy turn her head from the mirror to her. “I’m Luci, the second Kim.” She added with a soft chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Luci put her arm out as Daisy stood up from her chair, meeting face to face with her.

Daisy’s expression held such power and confidence, and although Luci thought of herself as a confident person, Daisy was the different kind of confident; she was a different definition, a better use of a synonym that people most frequently use. She exuded the brilliance of self-assurance and certainty, like it was known to be that she had power. But then Daisy smiled brightly, making some of Luci’s worries wash away, but they were only stored nearby because the smile Daisy had on her face was more of an evil smirk.

“Daisy Beck.” She introduced herself, quickly shaking Luci’s hand before pulling away just as quickly as the shake. Daisy sat back down at her vanity and placed her Airpods in her ears before her new cast member got another word out.

Luci gulped, hanging her tote bag on the back of her chair before sitting down. She took a deep breath, easing her quiet nerves that were running around in her body. There was a bit of doubt in her mind about her career and the path she was on, but she quickly flicked it away, concentrating on the positive and the gratitude it took to get where she was, where she was sitting.

After a few moments of relaxing, easing into the loudness, everyone began to file out the door and head to the stage.

“Hi, Luci, right?” A brown-haired woman with hazel eyes beamed at Luci, and she couldn’t ignore such a friendly face.

Luci smiled, shaking her hand. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Nina. I play Gigi.” Gigi Van Trahn was a stripper in Miss Saigon at a club called Dreamland, hoping and dreaming for a better life in the States. “Is this your first Broadway show?” She asked curiously.

Luci shook her head. “I’ve done some shows off-broadway, if you can count that.” She smiled bashfully. She knew that she shouldn’t be embarrassed by being part of the off-broadway community because she had worked her way up, but she hated the weird eyes pointed at her and the whispered judgement everytime she said that she’d been on off-broadway, even though nothing was wrong with it, but for some reason, people had a certain distaste towards it.

“Yeah, that definitely counts! You should be proud of your upcoming; it’ll be historic once you move your way up.” Nina raised her brows and smirked. Luci smiled, breathing out a giggle. She loved when people were so hopeful of her climbing the ladder of success and dreams, and it made Luci giddy, if she was being honest.

Everyone made a distorted line across the stage, facing the thousands of red velvet cushioned chairs that would be the cast’s audience. The stage director, Tal, was standing downstage with a clipboard in her hand as she was talking to her assistant and pointing to the clipboard with a pen; the taps of her pen to the wooden clipboard echoed in the silent theatre. Tal was in her mid-forties; she had slick black hair, wore black framed glasses, and had a certain look of sternness that was made for scolding and confronting. Luci made a mental note to not get on her bad side because if looks could kill, then she’d see the light.

A minute later, they concluded their discussion before looking up. “Good morning, everyone! And we’re back here…again.” A coordinated laugh spread through the cast. “For the people returning: hope you all didn’t forget about me.” A small chuckle erupted. “But we have a couple new faces, so I’ll make this introduction brief and quick; I’m Tal, your stage director. I’ve been working in this business for a long time, so I know what I’m doing. This is my assistant Melanie, she’s just as educated and devoted to this play as I am, so if I’m unavailable, don’t hesitate to take things up with her.” Everyone nodded understandingly. “This is going to be a wild, stressful ride, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, I can promise you that.”

A few ‘Hell yeah and ‘Period’s flew across the stage as people praised her words. Luci immediately felt comfortable with the space and energy that came from her fellow castmates. She was worried that she would have a constant feeling of being uncomfortable or as if she didn’t belong. But with Nina being so friendly, Tal and the cast uplifting and motivating the room, and minus Daisy’s weird and short attitude, she couldn’t help but feel like she did belong and that this was where she was meant to be.

Tal told everyone to get into a large circle to do a role call because there were a few new additions to the cast as the original cast before this day had departed from the production because there was either a better opportunity or it was time to say goodbye to this show.

After Tal individually called each name, the person was to introduce themselves, say what part they were playing, and a hobby they indulged in when they were not on stage. Usually, people didn’t pay attention to icebreakers and introductions because many found them boring, but Luci made sure to be attentive and memorize everyone’s names and faces since she was one of the few who was new to the cast and production. She also tried remembering their hobbies because she figured it would be a great conversation starter while trying to make friends.

It took quite a while to get to everyone, especially Luci since she was towards the bottom of the list because of her last name.

“Luciana,” Tal called out. Luci raised her hand, presenting herself with a smile. “Welcome to Miss Saigon.”

Luci stepped forwards a few inches inside of the circle. “Thank you, Tal and Melanie. Uh, my name is Luciana Suki, you could call me Luci, if you’d like. I’m playing Kim, alongside Miss Daisy Beck.” She looked at Daisy when she said her name, but Daisy had an unamused look on her face, but Luci ignored it. “A hobby of mine when I’m not constantly thinking about my job is knitting—I like to knit. Hats and scarves are my specialty and I have way too many in my closet for my own good, but I’m currently working on a cardigan and will do it for an hour if I have time.” Everyone clapped when she was done, and she stepped back out of the circle and into the line.

Next on the role call list was Samuel Talum, who had been making serious eye contact with Luci, but she avoided them, looking elsewhere.

“Hi, I’m Samuel. I play the second Chris. My hobbies include swimming on the roof of Soho.” Everyone laughed, but Luci didn’t seem to see what was so amusing about that, but she figured that was his personality since everyone found that hilarious.

Samuel looked at Luci as he stepped back into line, and this time, she reciprocated the eye contact. Her arms were crossed, face expressionless, which only made him smirk.

After introductions, Melanie suggested getting into groups to have a normal conversation to get to know one another and get more comfortable. The circle was concaving as the opposite sides were met. The theatre increased in volume and was filled with chatter and excited squeals; people hugged one another and jumped in circles, hopeful for another great season on Broadway.

Luci and Nina talked with some of the extras as they mostly asked Luci about her life and where she was from since everyone already knew each other.

“Hello, ladies.” Samuel walked up to the four women with a charming smile. The three immediately swooned for him as their eyes lit up as if he was the actual Oscar award himself. “Luci, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” He gave his full attention to her, taking his hand out. She politely shook his, not expecting him to kiss the back of her hand, locking eyes with her. She hated to admit it, but the action made her heart pound a little harder. Luci pulled away quickly, linking her hands behind her back.

“Good to meet you as well.” She gave him a small toothless smile. Avoiding his eyes, she looked back at the girls who were blushing and giving Luci a knowing look. They knew Samuel well enough to know when he had a crush, and they could definitely tell that he had a crush on her, to which Luci had a clear vision of it.

When the first day of ‘rehearsals’ were over, Tal announced that it was the same time tomorrow, and Luci was glad that she was finally had a routine again—waking up at eight in the morning to get her day started and leaving her apartment by nine to get to the theatre just before ten, which was when rehearsals started. Tomorrow’s rehearsals were going to be exciting since it would focus more on the play itself; Luci was itching for tomorrow to come.

Once Luci walked out of the theatre, saying her goodbyes to Tal and Melanie, and some of the cast that she made friends with, she was met by a fresh, chilly breeze, making goosebumps rise. It was the complete opposite of what she felt like inside the theatre: warm and flushed because there were so many people surrounding her, plus her nerves helped her stay warm; it didn’t help that they cranked up the heat inside the building as well.

As she was walking, passing by strangers that she’d never see again, she heard her name being called out from the distance. She thought she was hearing things, but she turned around to be met with Samuel who was jogging in her direction.

“Damn, you left quickly.” He smiled, which Luci had to admit that he was quite attractive—really attractive. A head of soft blonde hair sat perfectly on his head that if she were to mess with it, his hair would only get effortlessly better. His arms were so big and toned that she could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt (or she thinks that he purposely bought a small shirt to make up for the lack of muscles). He was tall, almost a foot taller than her that she had to look up when he spoke, but she didn’t let his height intimidate her. In fact, nothing about Samuel intimidated Luci, although she knew that that was his ultimate goal whenever he met someone new.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I was thinking…we should hang out sometime.” The suggestion made Luci raise her brows. “You know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot, be co-stars, play the love interest together.”

Chris Scott, the role Samuel was playing, was a G.I sergeant who is making a return to America from Vietnam. Unexpectedly, he falls in love with Kim, who is a shy, young girl who also works as a stripper at Dreamland because of the fall of her city and the loss of her family from war. The club is run by the Engineer and caters to American soldiers. Kim and Chris have an affair, leading to feelings that are more than lust. Their affair leads to Kim getting pregnant and giving birth to their son, Tam. Eventually, Chris leaves and goes back home without the knowledge that Kim is pregnant. Kim and Chris are separated for years until he learns about his son, so he goes back to Vietnam to find Kim and Tam—the only difference is that he’s married to an American woman named Ellen. Kim urges Ellen that Tam should have a better life in America, rather than living on the streets, but Ellen is wary and refuses because she doesn’t want to lose Chris. Conflict, heartbreak, and unexpected endings flow throughout the plot of the story, making it a hit on Broadway.

Luci debated in her mind. She figured she could use some friends, some company, and she thinks it worked out perfectly since she was going to be seeing Samuel almost everyday. He got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the theatre because of the polite but dismissive attitude towards him, but the look on her face when he proposed the idea was the opposite of what he had seen inside of the building.

To much consideration, Luci answered, “Sure, why not.”

Samuel sneered, walking alongside with her to wherever their route took them. It wasn’t like he was up to no good—purposely, at least. So, the two walked side by side, oblivious to what this might cause them.

April 21, 2017

Opening night.

The anxieties were crawling up everyone’s skin as they got into hair, makeup, and costume—specifically in that order. Everything felt rushed, like they were riding in a sports car, waiting to cross the black and white checkered line. But in reality, they were going the speed limit in a residential area.

Tal and Melanie made sure everyone got to the theatre at least two hours before the red curtain rose because she didn’t want everything to feel like they’re in a high-speed car chase, anticipating a crash.

The past five weeks had been an exhausting and intense thrill that Luci had never experienced before. The constant movement, the strain of her voice from singing too much, the tears from messing up a line, and the overwhelming fear of screwing up on stage had been her life for the past five weeks.

The day after introductions and icebreakers, the cast were to do a read through of the play, just to get an idea and feel of the script when rehearsing it with the cast. Since there were two rotations of the cast, the second cast—which was the one Luci was in—were to still attend readings and rehearsals when it was not their day to rehearse. They were to observe and learn the different techniques and acting that the first rotation provided so it would be easier to run through rehearsals without constantly stopping.

After the read through, which took two days, the rest of the week was followed by table work and blocking. Table work deeply goes into the script; it focuses on analyzing and getting to know your character—basically what purpose a character has. Blocking included roughly running through a scene organically, and seeing what works for both actors and what looks and feels better.

When the notes have been written down, the actors will stumble through the play without a script in reach. This process had slashed a bit of hope in everyone because of the difficulty in remembering the notes from blocking. Luci was properly beating herself up over it, and Samuel had reassured her that it was fine to make a few mistake since it was new and added in during blocking.

“Hey,” Samuel would call out after hearing another groan come out of her mouth. Luci would look at him with a frown, and he would comfortingly pat her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You got this.” He would then walk away, giving her a wink that made Luci’s insides turn.

After three days of roughly stumbling through the play, working rehearsals were next. Everyone knew their lines, stage directions, the plot and depth of the characters, and the extra notes from blocking were implied to everyone’s brain. During working rehearsals, the cast needed to find a way to best tell the story to the audience. They worked in a large room that was a few blocks away from the theatre, and it had white tape all over the floor indicating where the character needed to stand. There was no mirror, just a blank wall that was painted black, so it was like they were in the actual theatre. The process was exhausting because the cast would run the entire play back for two more times for three days. So, when Luci got home, it would be five in the evening, and she would be ready to crash and call it a day.

In between working and dress rehearsals, the tech-crew, stage directors, stage managers, and designers would have their own rehearsals without the cast. They do this to make sure the lighting, music, and set were in motion and work smoothly for the play and audience. During these days, the cast would get a few days off, but they were to not brush the play aside just because they weren’t in rehearsals. They were told to do fittings with the costume crew so they could make their final adjustments for their character’s costumes. It was a more fun and light process where they could just stand on the elevated step and answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when they’re being asked if it was comfortable or too tight.

After technical rehearsals, there would be two or three days for Q2Q rehearsals, which meant Cue-to-Cue, and the technical crew and the cast would get together and rehearse the bits where sound and lights were needed, which is almost every scene since it’s a musical and the characters seem to sing as they’re arguing. These rehearsals were very technical and necessary, and it needed to be executed with precision, so the cast and sound crew would be on the same page and in sync.

Dress rehearsals were more of a sigh in relief. It showcased everyone’s hard work and talent, but it was also a surreal moment because even though they worked and rehearsed every single day for this production, it still didn’t seem real. The few days of dress rehearsals hit the actors in the face because everything was coming together. Tal had let a few groups of people into the theatre to watch and give them a preview of the show so the cast had an audience to perform to during dress rehearsals.

And the moment everyone had been waiting for: Opening Night.

The audience was filling the theatre in as security ushered them to their seats. Some took a picture in front of the stage, the influencers held the Playbill program out in front of them, capturing the renaissance theme of the Broadway theatre to post on their Instagram story, and couples who were there for date night. Not to forget, the important journalists, who hyped this play up way before opening night, that were going to critique and judge all throughout the show; they were sitting in the mezzanine, only the best seats in the house as it provided a panoramic view of the entire stage, so they didn’t miss a thing. Broadway critics could be the most hurtful writers, and they have a way of letting people down in the most elegant and sophisticated way that made it seem like their words aren’t so bad.

Backstage was twice as chaotic as it was on the outside. Although everyone was quiet, humming and whispering the songs, the inside of their minds were driving them crazy. If someone outside of the production who didn't have anything to do with the play, walked into the room, they would immediately feel the tension bouncing off the walls and breaking the mirrors of the vanities.

Even though it was the first rotation that would be performing today, Luci still felt incredibly nervous because anything could happen. Daisy could get sick or not want to perform, so it would be Luci who would have to step in, unless Tal tells the understudy to. Aside from the nerves, she felt incredibly proud of everyone and her own hard work. Rehearsing for about five hours—sometimes she would stay longer just to get extra help—had tired her out, but she knew that once it was her turn to step on stage, the exhaustion and stress would be completely worth it, and that would be when she knew she made it.

Luci was in one of the dressing rooms, and she heard a knock as she was buttoning her shirt that was just for show when there was a zipper on the back of her top so it was easier to change when she was in a hurry. She opened the door, revealing Samuel.

“Hi,” he greeted, getting in the dressing room with her before he closed it behind him. The space was small, so the two were pressed up against one another. He placed a hand on her waist as the other rested against the wall behind her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “How are you?”

Luci smiled when he pulled away. “Good. You?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Better, now.” He kissed the top of her head and Luci softly smiled, not used to the amount of PDA, even though they were somewhat in private.

Luci’s just as confused on how she was able to pull Samuel. After the first day of rehearsals when he caught up to her on the sidewalk and asked her to hangout, she found out that he was actually a really outgoing guy; she didn’t expect herself to laugh or actually enjoy herself when she said yes to his invitation.

After the first week of rehearsals, Tal had directed them to be more connected to their characters—to really feel what they’re feeling. This only enhanced their chemistry as love interests, making them closer. And on Wednesday evening, Samuel invited her over to his apartment. He knew what he wanted when he asked Luci to his place, and he really didn’t want to mess with her feelings, so he decided to be honest.

“Luci, listen. I just really want to fuck you,” he confessed straightforwardly, making Luci gulp. No one’s ever really admitted that fact to her, so it was quite surprising to hear as well as hot, if she was being honest. “I mean, I like you, of course I do. But I really don’t want a relationship right now, and we’re both stressed with rehearsals, so wanna fuck?”

He was right, she thought. She was stressed with rehearsals and the move, which she hadn’t even gotten the chance to buy proper furniture because she’s been so busy and also broke, so she could use a good fuck.

And she told him the same thing when she accepted his offer to hangout; she said, “Sure, why not.”

So, they’d been messing around ever since then—for the past five weeks. They had kept it on the downlow as he respected Luci’s wishes for not wanting to risk losing her first job on Broadway and have this ‘affair’ affect getting more roles. Samuel reassured her that people date and mess around off stage all the time—Luci raised her brows in suspicion since it was not his first rodeo—but he still kept the affection to a minimum when they were around people, no matter how difficult it was for him.

He leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving small kisses. “Hmm. Can’t wait to take you back to mine after tonight.” Samuel toyed with the zipper that was stitched on the back of her top.

“Yeah?” She smirked when he felt him nod against her.

He lightly nibbled her skin, making her softly gasp. “Gonna make you feel so good.” As lovely as that sounded, she couldn’t risk getting caught in the dressing room, so she pushed him away, earning a small groan that came out of his mouth.

“How about you save that for next week when it’s our actual opening night?” She said seductively, biting her lip as she refrained from laughing at his eager state.

“Fine, if you say so. Just know that you’re missing out tonight.” He teased, giving her a peck to her lips before quickly slipping out of the dressing room before anyone saw him.

Luci looked in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath to rid the warmth of her cheeks that Samuel caused. Once she was presentable, smoothing out the creases of her costume, she headed out and heard that there was ten minutes until showtime.

Everyone was running around with a small flashlight that guided them through the dark backstage. The cast were getting last minute adjustments to their costume and makeup, a last minute run-through with their lines, and warming their vocals up as some of the technical crew were taping a small microphone to the side of their cheek.

The second rotation cast stayed back, hanging out for moral support for the main cast as it was a huge night for them. Luci was somewhat glad that she wasn’t part of the first cast because she felt like she could still use a lot of work in some scenes, so she had at least a week to get those scenes perfect.

As the crew walked back, Luci could hear the crew talk to one another through their headset, asking one another if things were set and if everyone was ready to go; the seats were mostly filled, just a few empty seats that were waiting to be filled by the people who were running late.

“Ready.”

“All set.”

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime.”

The lights went down for a brief minute and a half, making sure the theatre was quiet from people being excited and startled when the room had gone dark, and then the red velvet curtains were pulled to the sides of the stage and the sheer screen was lifted. The orchestra began to play a soft melody as the opening scene started in Dreamland Bar.

Despite having seen the play multiple times during rehearsals and rehearsing it herself, she was in awe as she watched her cast members in action—true action with an audience in front of them and a very bright light that was shining directly on them. Luci had seen many Broadway productions, but getting to watch it from the side of the stage and actually being part of the production was just something so surreal to her.

The final scene was coming to an end; the orchestra intensified their music, the lights dimmed, the curtain closed, and the audience clapped—most of the room had given Miss Saigon a standing ovation. The curtain opened once more and the cast ran out to wave and blow kisses at the audience as the volume increased once it had gotten to Daisy Beck, the icon herself.

And just like that, five weeks of rehearsals and devotion, opening night was over. Luci couldn’t wait until next week because she could practically see the thrill and adrenaline that radiated off of her co-worker’s face, and that was a feeling she had been anticipating for.

Luci hugged the cast, congratulating them on their special, opening night. Everyone took pictures and videos with one another as they held bouquets of flowers.

“Daisy!” Luci called out once she approached her. Daisy turned around to be met with Luci’s arms wide open. She gave an emotionless smile, half-hugging Luci shortly as she only leaned her upper body against her but pulled away very quickly. “You did such an amazing job. I was so in awe of you on stage!” Luci exclaimed excitedly.

“Thank you.” Just like any other actor, no matter how much someone despised a person, they always took the compliment no matter what; it helped their egos grow in size, especially if it was from someone they couldn’t stand.

“You’re truly so magnificent up there…” As Luci was talking, Daisy’s eyes averted towards the corner where Samuel was standing; he was talking with some of the girls that played strippers at the club in the show. His eyes looked up, meeting Daisy’s eyes before he smirked and brought his attention back to the girls. The corner of her lip turned up, smirking as she felt herself blush from Samuel’s look.

Daisy and Samuel had some history together in the past. They go way back, all the way back to five years ago when they had roles in Chicago on Broadway. Just like any other cast members, they took a liking towards each other, and eventually got quite close. They both thought that their feelings were plain lust, but it was more of an emotional connection, so they tried being together and it lasted for a while until there were scandals and rumors going around that Daisy had been taking drugs just because she was seen partying with Samuel. The rumors eventually caught up to her, making her skin crawl and blood boil. So, she needed to be selfish and called it quits with him because her career was her pride and joy, and it was the most important thing to her at the time when she was just twenty-two.

When Daisy found out that Samuel was on board as the cast in Miss Saigon, she was absolutely thrilled because her feelings for him had never dissolved. And the main reason why she was annoyed with Luci on her first day was because she knew that Samuel was going to take a liking towards Luci, which he did; and now, Daisy was aggravated because she wanted her man back but he was too busy occupying himself with Luci.

Daisy looked back at Luci, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying. Luckily, someone had politely interrupted them, asking Daisy to do an interview with one of the journalists that critiqued the show, which she was ecstatic about.

When the theatre was empty, everyone left to go to an after party, which was at a posh cocktail lounge—a ten minute walk from the theatre and quite close to Central Park South—so everyone decided to walk; the adrenaline they still had kept them warm in the thirty six degree weather. It was quite late since they left the theatre at around eleven, so Luci decided that she wouldn’t stay long since her commute back home was still further than some of her co-workers.

The lounge was on the seventh floor of the W Hotel, and it screamed chic and expensive. It was separated into two open rooms, giving complete opposite vibes from each other. The more sophisticated and chic section of the room was filled with grey suede, cushioned sofa chairs with clean glass coffee tables placed in between those chairs. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room with a large vase of fresh pink lilies and a few vanilla scented candles that were spread across the top of the piano. On one side of the wall were three semi-private booths with cushioned walls and a hexagon-shaped booth with LED lights surrounding the shape.

The second room, however, was where the full bar was. Something that caught Luci’s, and most people’s, attention was the bright sign that covered the entire wall behind the bar top and the bottles of alcohol. The light blue and red colored lights illuminated the entire section of the room. The bar room had the same type of sofas and tables with a chill-beat type of music that played through the speakers.

Peter, who played the first ‘Chris,’ had ordered everyone tequila shots; which naturally, made everyone happy as they cheered. Luci couldn’t remember the last time she went to the bar with some friends and completely enjoyed herself; all that had been on her mind before the move was the move itself, auditioning for the play, and her anxieties that came with moving to a city where she knew no one. So, a shot of tequila was very rewarding for her first proper night out in New York City.

“To a successful opening night! We’re gonna be back here when the second rotation gets their spotlight.” Peter saluted as everyone clinked their shot glasses together; Nina took a video of her and Luci to post on her Instagram story with Luci’s username and the longue tagged in the corner before downing the toxic liquid down their throats.

Everyone talked amongst themselves when Samuel placed his hand on Luci’s thigh. She quickly turned her head towards him, subtly pushing his hand off of it. He met her eyes, smirking and tilted his head as if he was saying that they should go into the bathroom, but Luci shook her head no, denying his silent request. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention on the rest of the group, and Luci didn’t miss the way he shifted farther from her on the couch.

Luci was four shots in and she felt a slight buzz run through her head. The waiters were placing more drinks down on their table, but Luci knew she needed to get home, so she decided to call it a night and say her goodbyes to the group. She knew everyone lived relatively close to the theatre and the longue, so she didn’t expect anyone to take the subway with her so late in the night. What she did expect was for Samuel to offer her to spend the night or even walk her to the train station, but he simply waved at her, no private hug or kiss goodbye. So, she left without another word and walked over to the 57th Street Station and took the F Train down to Rockefeller Center where she had to get off and transfer over to the M Train that would take her towards Middle Village-Metropolitan Avenue, and eventually, home.

On the train, Luci busied herself with a word search that was downloaded on her phone, afraid that she might end up falling asleep on the subway, until the subway stopped at the station she needed to get off at and walked home.

The click of her heeled boots were quite loud against the wooden floor in the hallway that led to her front door. She lugged her tote bag on her shoulder, fumbling with her keys until she got to her doorstep. Briefly glancing at the neighbor’s door right across from her before turning her back towards it and opening her own, the door behind her suddenly opened.

Luci quickly turned around, expecting her cute and attractive neighbor, but instead, revealed a woman with red hair, hurriedly putting her coat on. The woman smiled at her, and for a moment, Luci thought she was on the wrong floor, but behind the woman was Harry in a black long sleeve sweater and khaki flared pants. His chocolate brown hair had looked like he ran his fingers through it so many times that it sat effortlessly messy, but Luci didn’t know that the red-haired lady had done it for him.

She was quite in shock to see him, even though she’d known he lived right across from her. For the time she had been living in New York, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of him; either their schedules weren't aligned or he was avoiding her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch him when he walked out of his apartment or in the elevator—maybe she was—but a few neighborly chats were all that she wanted.

“Hi,” Luci greeted once the woman rounded the corner and away from both of their attentions.

“Hey, Luci.” Harry softly smiled.

They both stood in their entryways, awkwardly staring at one another as they didn’t know what else to say. The neighborly chats had gone so much better in her head, and she was mentally rolling her eyes at herself for freezing up so suddenly.

But luckily, Harry broke the silence.

“Long night?”

Luci smiled. “Yeah, kind of. Just came from an afterparty.”

“Hmm, what was the party for?” Harry raised his chin, puckering his lips slightly. Luci glanced down at his lips, observing how naturally pink they were, or if the lady’s lipstick had transferred over to his.

She was quite surprised that he was still carrying the conversation, or maybe he was just as nosy as she was.

“It was for Miss Saigon, the play on Broadway. Today was our official opening night.” She fiddled with her fingers, completely leaning her side against the doorframe.

Harry slightly nodded. “I’d have to watch it sometime.”

Now, that brightened Luci up, almost sobering her. She beamed at him, and Harry couldn’t deny the slight blush that appeared on his face once she so stunningly smiled at him. He pursed his lips, refraining from smiling so widely just from the mere sight of her grin.

“Yes, please do!” He smiled at her excitement before nodding his head.

A few awkward seconds passed, and Luci had the need to lie down after the day that she had. So, she sat straight up from her leaning position, placing her hand where she was resting to balance herself. “Well, I should get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He stood up straight as well, taking a step back into his apartment as his hand held the door handle. “Sleep well, Luci.”

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.” A yawn took over her and she covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, Harry?” She called out, catching him before he closed the door. He raised his brows, her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? I could use some friends and you seem really nice,” she suggested.

Maybe it was the slightest buzz that was wearing off, making her have the need to use up all the rest of the confidence she could gather up in her body and spew out the suggestion.

But whatever it was, she was glad that she did because Harry answered, “I’d like that.” She gave him a lazy smile, eyes drooping, and Harry knew that she needed to sleep.

After another bid goodnight, the neighbors both closed their doors for a night’s rest, but not before they both smiled into their pillow and replayed their conversation over and over in their head.

April 29, 2017

It was Saturday evening when Luci walked into the Broadway Theatre with the biggest smile she’d ever made in her life. Ignoring the nerves, she was back in the chaos and nervous tension the large theatre held for her very first Broadway show.

She spent the entire day preparing herself just so everything went smoothly. Her alarm woke her up at 7:30 a.m so she could take a walk around the neighborhood for a fresh start to her day. The sky started out as gloomy while the sun was just waking up as well; and the parts of the neighborhoods that she passed were quiet—the only thing that was heard were the honking cars over the birds flapping their wings above her—since it was the weekend and everyone loved sleeping in on the weekend.

Luci was still discovering new things, such as stores, dining, and secret passageways while her Nike running shoes padded against the cement of the sidewalk; that's what she loved about New York—there was always something new she’d discover in this city, and it was a never ending journey that never failed to make her gasp and giddy.

She stopped at a smoothie place before walking back to her apartment; and when she got to her front door, she looked at Harry’s, which she seemed to make a habit out of every time she walked in and out of her apartment, and she wondered if he was awake at this time—he seemed like a morning person, she thought. She debated knocking on his door before she left to go to the theatre to tell her that she was finally performing tonight, but she decided against it, wanting to hang out with him at some place else rather than her workplace.

After making herself a breakfast to go along with her drink, she took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her skin and body since today was such an important day for her; she wanted to feel good so she could look good, especially for tonight.

In between brunch hours, her mother called, making her squeal.

“Hello, mother!” She couldn’t contain her excitement over the phone.

“Oh, hi, My Lucky! How are you?” Luci could hear the bustling street through the phone as they walked through the city. Ren and Beatrice had flown into New York to watch her on stage as promised; Nathan was planning to fly into the city after work as well. Luci offered to pick them up at the airport, which required a car that she didn’t have, but they decided against it, knowing that she had a specific routine before a show and they didn’t want to interfere with that pattern.

“Oh, y’know, just doing nothing. Boring, plain, old me,” she joked, making Beatrice chuckle.

“How’re you handling your nerves?”

Beatrice always knew that inside the confident exterior that Luci had always presented herself with, there was still a shy and nervous girl that was always so hard on herself.

“I’m okay, Ma. More excited than nervous, I think, but y’know, once it’s minutes away from showtime, I’m gonna be a nervous mess,” Luci stated honestly, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She got herself comfortable on her forest green sofa that turned into a bed, and draped the tan, soft plush blanket over her legs. Her apartment was finally coming together, and she was thankful for her few days off of work so she could make her apartment feel like home.

“I know you’ll do great. Plus, all of us are gonna be in the crowd supporting you.” Beatrice encouraged her. “Anyways, I can’t walk and talk at the same time, especially when we’re walking through people, but I just wanted to check up on you. So, I’ll let you go and we’ll see you later! Oh, your father says hi and that he loves you. Bye, my star. Shine your heart.”

Her mother always talked like she was in a hurry, but it never failed to make Luci smile—it was as if Luci was listening to a voicemail, or remembered a fond memory, or looking at a photograph; Beatrice was a timeless treasure, Ren would say.

The rest of the day went by smoothly; Luci mostly watched some television on her iPad since she didn’t have a TV yet, caught up on some reading, and lightly went through her lines and quietly sang the songs. Once it hit 3:30, she was out the door and on the subway by 3:45.

When she walked into the dressing room where everyone was getting ready, her cast members looked at her warily with sympathetic eyes. Luci was confused, but she figured that everyone was just nervous, so she sat down at her vanity and was surprised to see Daisy sitting next to her. She thought that Daisy wouldn’t be here for Luci’s opening night and she was more surprised to see that Daisy was getting ready as she didn’t just want to stand on the sidelines, waiting for Luci to screw up to step right in.

“Hey,” Luci greeted with a smile, but Daisy simply ignored her, going back to do her makeup. Luci slightly frowned but shrugged it off before she sat down.

A few moments later, Tal came into the dressing room.

“Luci,” she called out, making her look up into the mirror, meeting Tal’s eyes. “Can we talk for a minute?” Luci nodded, eyes slightly widening like she was a deer in headlights. She followed Tal out of the dressing room and into a more private room down the hall.

She crossed her arms as a breeze passed by, sending a chill down Luci’s skin and she wished she had grabbed her jacket on the way out. “What’s up?”

Tal took a deep breath, not knowing how to break the news to her newest cast member. “So, there’s been a change for tonight,” she started, and Luci wondered if Samuel wasn’t going to play Chris tonight but instead, Peter or the understudy, Michael. Tal looked up, thinking about her words carefully and how to say her words as gently as possible. “Daisy is gonna perform tonight.”

She wished she hadn’t spoken so soon on how smoothly her day was going.

Luci stared at her mindlessly, blinking a few times. She felt like she was hearing things or dreaming, like her words hadn’t processed correctly in her brain. But when Tal was giving her a certain look of guilt, that was when Luci knew that her mind wasn’t making anything up.

“W-What?”

“I know it was supposed to be your night to perform, but Daisy said that she wanted to perform tonight…” Luci could tell that Tal was holding back on more information. “She said that she doesn’t feel like she needed to rest, so she’s gonna perform every night until she says so.”

Tears were forming over Luci’s eyes and it suddenly became difficult for her to see or hear. She curled her lips into her mouth, refraining a sob that was settling in the base of her throat.

“She knows, right? That it’s my night to perform?”

Tal nodded. “Yeah, she knows quite clearly. I even reminded her, and we got into this argument; she basically told me to choose between her and you, and-”

“It’s okay,” Luci interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence because she knew that Tal had chosen Daisy, which she didn’t blame Tal for doing because why would anyone choose between the face of Broadway and some actress that no one even knows about? Tal knew that she didn’t have any power over Daisy even though it was Tal’s show and she was the stage director.

“Luci, I’m sorry. You’re free to go home though, if anyone is gonna step in, then it’ll be Wendy.” Daisy told Tal that she’d rather have the understudy step into her place if anything happened, and who was Tal to say no to her?

Luci nodded sadly, putting her head down for a moment before she looked up. Tal had the same look Luci had on her face because Tal genuinely felt bad that this had to happen. Luci walked away and back into the dressing room to once again, meet everyone’s dreadful stare. She grabbed her belongings, and Daisy pretended to not notice that Luci was there.

She felt a surge of anger running through her body as she looked at Daisy, and she was not one to let things happen to her without defending herself. What she was going to do could possibly cause Luci her job and maybe any role that she comes across her path because that’s how much power Daisy had, but the power Daisy exposed and portrayed didn’t make her any more powerful than she thought it did.

“If you’re the reason that’s depriving me of my job, then how about you tell me that. Don’t have people doing that for you because if you really wanted me out of the show, then you would’ve told that to my face right when you met me.” Daisy continued looking into the mirror, but she was alert to Luci’s words. Everyone in the room was silent, listening to the confrontation happening right in front of them. “Just sitting there and not having the urge to look me in the eye and tell me yourself is just downright cowardness.”

Without another word, Luci left the room, passing by Nina on the way out, asking if she was okay and Luci muttered ‘Yeah, fine’ before huffing out a sarcastic laugh and walking out of the theatre. She felt bad for giving her friend such a cold and short attitude, and she only hoped Nina understood why she was acting that way.

Suddenly, everything felt very…loud. On the outside, there were honking cars, people shouting at those road ragers, and the harsh wind that blew through her ears. All of that contributed to the loud thoughts running through her head, the disappointment of her hopes had made her feel dizzy, and the heartache of her crushed dreams had made her heart sink. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and she hated herself for thinking this was all too good to be true.

Luci clutched at her chest as if she was holding her heart in the palm of her hand, signaling it to slow down its erratic beating because she couldn’t keep up. If she had felt heartbreak in the past by dumb boys who didn’t know how to treat her right, the pain that she felt did not compare to having her dream being crushed and ripped away from her in the split of a second.

Sure, she may be dramatic in that moment, but it was everything that she was feeling and it was a valid feeling. She felt like the world was against her and she was perplexed on how to operate this minor section of her life.

“Luci?” Through the midst of her chaotic and saddened mind, the voice that called her sounded quite familiar. She turned around, finding Harry standing a distance away from her before he walked forward.

“Harry…” Her tone was calm as she breathed out a sigh of relief, but her exhale was staggered. Tears glossed over her eyes, making her neighbor and the bright lights blurry, only seeing colored spots until she blinked and her vision cleared up as the tears streamed down her face.

“I thought it was you. Aren’t you—oh.” Harry was interrupted by the collision of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, loudly sobbing in his chest. Usually, she wasn’t like this; she wasn’t one to cry in front of people or show any emotion that she was truly hurt—it just wasn’t her. But she could no longer pretend like the events that happened prior didn't happen, and she really needed some comfort, a hug, anything.

Luci felt his hesitancy when his arms wrapped around her body, and she felt bad for hugging him without permission, but her comfort had taken priority. When he eventually did take her fragile and shaking body in his arms, it did everything she was looking for justice. The embrace was warm, even when it was cold and windy out; the hug seemed to have warmed both of them up. A sense of safety, and a complete sigh of relief came to mind where Luci felt like she could take a breather for a slight moment. His strong, muscular arms wrapped so perfectly around her that Harry felt like it was him who needed this hug instead of her, but he wouldn’t admit that because she was clearly being vulnerable in front of him, despite just talking less than a handful of times.

She pulled away, and he suddenly missed the warmth of her body for a split second before his attention turned to her wiping her tears away.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerningly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for just hugging you out of nowhere, I-I should’ve asked.” Harry stared deeply in her eyes, and even in the state that she was in, her eyes were still bright; the lucidity of the bright lights outside of the theatre sparkled in her eyes, and it made him smile at how beautiful she looked even when she was crying.

He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn't answered her yet. “No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just…are you okay?” His concern for her made her feel slightly better.

“I’m good now. Uh, thank you for the hug,” she said bashfully; he gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. “W-What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I actually came to watch the play. You mentioned you were in it right?”

Luci’s expression softened. “You came to see me?” She felt like she could cry all over again at the fact that he was at Broadway Theatre to see her perform; her heart flipped instantly. Harry nodded, placing his hands in his black pinstripe trousers. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me out here before you went in because you’d be disappointed to not see me when the show starts.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “It’s a long story…if you have time?”

Immediately, Luci knew she wanted to keep spending time with him, and she hoped he felt the same. Plus, she was in a vulnerable state, and she needed someone to be with her.

Harry was hesitant at first, but he realized that she probably needed to vent to someone, so he responded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled softly, wiping the excess tears off her face before walking further away from the theatre; Luci texted her parents and brother in the family group chat saying: not performing tonight :( so I won't be at the theatre. I'll explain later. Seconds later, they blew up her phone with a thread of ‘WHAT?!’ and naturally, Nathan sent a series of curses, making Beatrice scold him in the chat for his language.

Harry and Luci walked until they landed on a Burger & Fry joint near Times Square. The sound of food made her mouth water, especially after crying; she needed to replenish and hydrate herself.

The two sat in a pink leather booth; the restaurant had a decent amount of people for a Friday night because the volume of chatter was heard over the music blaring through the speaker. It was a somewhat retro-themed diner with checkered flooring, a jukebox in the corner for show, and the wardrobe the employees were wearing; it was a fun and cool vibe.

Harry and Luci felt a bit awkward; they both weren’t expecting to end up in a diner together when they were supposed to be inside the theatre. They both avoided eye contact, looking around the very pink restaurant before a waitress arrived at their table and took their order.

From what Luci could tell, Harry was a quiet and shy guy, but that was just an observable trait, which was half-correct. But the only reason why he was shy was because Harry was closed off and didn’t let too many people in, so sitting down with Luci at a diner—someone he'd only spoken with a couple of times—was very new to him.

He fiddled with his rings—her personal favorite was the square Ruby gemstone with a gold band—and she knew that she needed to say something quick before he'd never talk to her again.

“So, Harry, can I ask what you do for a living?” His head propped up from looking at the bubbles from his soda in his Coca Cola glass cup.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Language Arts.”

“Fun! How long have you been teaching?” Luci placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers as she rested her chin on her hands, giving him her full attention.

“For about eight months.” He told her the basics of his life, not voluntarily, but because Luci asked an abundance of questions and was genuinely interested in his life.

She learned that he was from Manchester where his sister and mother live and his father lived in Birmingham. He has a cat, which his mom had been taking care of ever since he left to go to college in America. He went to UCLA, becoming a double major in English and Education, which led him to wanting to become a teacher in the midst of essays and research. He decided to stay in America, ending up in New York for the change of scenery (Luci could tell there was more to that story than he led on), and was fortunate enough to get a job at East Side Middle School in Manhattan.

Harry also mentioned that the four stacks of grading piles had gone down to one, finally being able to have a Friday night free, so he wanted to watch the play. Luci’s lips twitched up, but she curled her lips into her mouth, suppressing a large smile into a small one as she thanked him for wanting to spend his free time watching the show.

He’d never talked that much, Harry thought. In between his stories and facts about himself, the food had arrived and Luci was still asking him questions. It wasn’t like he minded; he appreciated Luci being so attentive and interested in his life as a way to make small talk and make friends, but those were just the basics that he would tell anyone if they asked.

Harry then asked how long she’d been acting for and on Broadway. Luci told him that her career started when she was six and had been acting ever since. She shared her aspirations and dreams; becoming part of Broadway was her first dream, which she somewhat achieved, and Hollywood was her next stop whenever the time was right. Harry poured the same energy she did, asking questions and interacting with her answers to those questions.

Her mood seemed to decline as she explained why she was outside of the theatre crying.

“It just felt like she ripped my dream from me and ripped it apart. I-I don’t even know when I’m gonna get my chance to perform.” Her lips turned downwards as she felt a new set of tears glaze her eyes, but she pushed them back, not wanting to cry again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it’ll be soon, and whenever that happens, I’ll be there to see you perform on your opening night,” Harry said genuinely; and Luci felt like she could cry all over again, not because of the destruction of her dream that happened in two minutes, but because Harry was possibly one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met.

He surprised himself with his words, but he meant them. Throughout their conversations and getting to know one another, he felt himself relax a bit more, shoulders slumping. He realized that Luci was a very ambitious and motivated woman, making him admire her quality traits; she was also very easy to talk to, slightly chuckling at a joke that she made because he appreciated badly-made jokes since he made them himself. But maybe he’ll bring out the jokes another time when they hang out again.

After an hour of staying at the diner and chatting with their table completely cleaned off besides the last-minute decision to order milkshakes, they finally decided to head home. They split the bill—only because it was fair and this unexpected night wasn’t a date—before they got on the subway towards home. They sat on opposite sides of each other, which Luci wasn’t expecting, but when Luci got on the subway cart and took her seat, Harry sat right across from her.

Once they both reached their respective doors, they gave each other a small smile before mimicking each other’s actions as they turned the key and opened their doors at the same time. Taking one step in, they turned around, standing in their doorways just like all the other times they’d bid their goodbyes to one another.

“Thank you for tonight, Harry. I really appreciate you being there for me, even if you didn’t have to.” Luci said, leaning against the doorframe.

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for a great night as well. I had fun.” His statement made her face lighten up. “Well, goodnight, Luci.” He walked further into his apartment as did she, and she softly waved at him before they closed their doors.

Despite not performing tonight, her night with Harry wouldn’t have happened if the unfortunate events were fortunate.

And that was the most positive thing that came out of tonight, and she was really focusing on the positives now.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles x ofc #harry styles au #harry styles ff #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles story #boyfriend!harry #actress!oc #harry styles #harry styles solo #hs au

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

Text

ending scene— p.sh oneshot.

Pairings: Sunghoon x Reader Genre: pure angst Word Count: 1.1k

WARNING(s): No happy ending, breakup, loneliness, self hatred

A/N: I wrote this during a super dark tim , it’s kind of messed up to even publish this. But I remember putting a lot of emotion into this, I wanted to turn some of my pain into literature. This story trust me, it’s full of ugly thoughts. I sincerely hope it doesn’t trigger anyone. I have a couple more angsty oneshots from this time period, won’t upload if this recieves bad feedback. Enjoy.

Inspired by the lyrics of Ending Scene by IU

“Do you even really love me?” Sunghoon’s voice finally broke after fighting back tears for thirty heavy and sufferable minutes. You two had been together through some of the most bliss and ugly moments of your entire lives but this moment was different. This moment was something that would live deeper than any other moment you had with Sunghoon. It was the first time in your lifetime to see Sunghoon cry out of frustration and pain that more importantly you caused.

“I really do Sunghoon...” Your palms dug painfully deep into your thighs while avoiding the eyes of your lover. It was always hard for you when it came down to expressing how much you loved him or really anybody. You loved him but you were the worst at expressing your affection verbally and physically. You only reflected on your actions at that very moment as the hideous thought occured to you that Sunghoon felt unloved being with you. He felt lonely with you and this bitter realization would only eat at you until the day you died.

“I’ve been waiting three years for you, hoping, praying, wishing!- Wishing you’d truly be in love with me.” Sunghoon was yelling and it left you wide eyed as he said everything out of pure agony.

The three years you had been dating were really just three years of you not showing him the love he wanted, needed, deserved.

He just needed the small things from you like a time where you could just admit when you missed him or let alone say the tough words “I love you”. He never questioned your reserved personality and thought it was just a barrier that could eventually be broken, but instead you remained locked up in your tower of ice. It was just the simple things that you never did that made him believe you didn’t love him. He never felt enough for you and you wondered how long he had been carrying such baggage.

Was it really that hard for you to do such small things for him?

“Sunghoon what are you even saying right now?” Your voice was all scratched up from the guilt of how blind you had been all this time. For some reason everything your heart was screaming could not leave your lips. You loved him but why couldn’t you just say it?

“Am I really not enough for you?” His stare was something you had never seen on anyone in your entire lifetime. His eyes reflected so much disappointment yet so much love. Even if he felt his love wasn’t reciprocated he could never hide how fond of you he was.

“Hoon it isn’t that...” It really wasn’t. Sunghoon was everything and more than enough for you. He was practically the only person to give you purpose being the only one to slowly but carefully melt your heart of ice. As cheesy as it sounded you were truly lonely in the world. He was just the first to make you experience feelings that you never thought you could get from others. You never knew what it was like to miss someone, get jealous over someone or find home in someone other than family. You loved him enough to let him in, kiss him and even make plans of growing older with him.

“It isn’t? So then what is it? Because I’m starting to believe you’re tired of me.” His voice was so hostile and so unfamiliar it made you lose your train of thought. The rise of emotion in his voice just created such loud blockage to your thoughts and it was all because you really hurt him over the years without realizing.

“It isn’t that. Can we just continue this tomorrow I can’t think straight.”

He scoffed over his tears, “It’s really over huh? You don’t need to explain tomorrow, I get it.” He sighed and began calming down. Every bit of frustration beginning to leave his body as he said that. He had always waited for you to ask him to stay and let yourself go. He wanted you to cry in his arms for once but he was tired of hoping.

“Sunghoon please...” Is all you could say. You didn’t know how to stop him from leaving. You were so unconfident in your words or anything you really did. As selfish as it sounds, you only wondered when the moment would end. You could never keep relationships with anyone because of your lack of confidence and reassurance but you had genuinely believed something would change in you that would enable you to be with Sunghoon until the very end.

“No, I’m not going to disrespect myself like this. I can’t be with someone who isn’t going to love me in the same way I love them.” He exhaled all of his accumulated frustration toward you, stopping himself from blaming you. However everything he had just said hurt you more than ever. You’ve never hated yourself more in your life and you weren’t sure if you would ever recover from whatever just left his mouth. You didn’t even know how to respond or have the balls to even stop him from leaving. You also believed he deserved better and having him think he was leaving for the greater good of himself was the best way to set him free from you.

The silence you were giving him only made him think that you really had not even an ounce of love for him. You weren’t stopping him and instead using the same robotic face like you always did whenever you’d get into arguments.

“Please find someone who can love you more than you love yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you enough. ” And with that he gave a weak smile that masked his worn out expressions. He was slow to grab the door handle as he turned to look at you with dried tears on his porcelain cheeks, stretching his slender hand to caress the side of your face, allowing you to feel his warmth. It soothed your wintry face.

“You deserve to be happier.” He whispered, the sound of his voice disappearing out through the windows and into the night sky followed by the cold door shutting.

“But how could I ever be happier without you?”

And it was the loss of his presence in your apartment mixed with the thought of him never returning that made the atmosphere much more empty than when he’d go home. The happiness of being with someone, having someone was now over. Now the loneliness you suffered before meeting Sunghoon had now returned to haunt your apartment. You were going to pay the price of making someone emotionally suffer by having this horrible memory be remembered even in your next life.

You finally dropped to your knees by the door in hopes of him knocking. Praying he’d return just seconds later so you could yell at the top of your lungs how much you needed him.

You had never let yourself cry until that very night and many nights to come as he was gone on the prettiest days, hardest weeks, coldest seasons and loneliest years.

#park sunghoon #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshot #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #sunghoon fic #enhypen imagine #sunghoon imagines

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filmmakerdreamst · 3 years

Text

How Xena: Warrior Princess Allowed Me To Accept Myself

I was living in a city all alone and these two characters showed me that it was ok for two women to love each other.

In order to understand the following story, there’s something you need to know about me. I have always loved fiction. From the age of about 5 to 11, I loved books more than I loved people. I was a shy child who found it easier to emotionally engage with fictional worlds than the real one around me.

See, fictional worlds are created for your brain’s enjoyment. Their rules make sense. Events happen for a reason. The narrator tells you why characters behave the way they do, allowing you to empathize with them on a deep emotional level. Easy to understand, easy to identify with, easy to love.

But real people are complicated. The real world is complicated. And things are seldom laid out nicely in a coherent narrative format for you. Real things are much harder to love.

This emotional disengagement continued from the age of 11 onwards, although it was no longer as pronounced. My habit of retreating into fiction would fade during good times and come back in force during difficult or stressful periods. During the stressful periods of college, the rise of Netflix allowed me to become certifiably obsessed with my favorite TV shows. And naturally, I joined Tumblr in order to more easily fangirl with people who shared my interests.

Only for some peculiar reason that I didn’t care to examine, my interests were slowly gravitating towards girl-girl couples. Soon I was shipping, reblogging, and reading fanfiction almost exclusively about female couples. But I, who had always considered myself straight despite lacking interest in the boys around me, didn’t think this meant that I was gay. I probably just found female couples more emotionally satisfying. I was friends with mostly women, I was a woman myself, so it was natural that I just understood them better. Yeah, that was probably it.

Fast-forward to nine months ago. I was living in Boston and incredibly depressed about it. My job and my boss were making my life miserable and I had very few people to socialize with. I was making the rough transition from the constant socialization of college to the isolating pressure of a city where I had few connections. My days and nights were some of the loneliest I had ever experienced. I looked for something, anything, to lift the heart-crushing emotional silence.

My solution was the same one I always chose when I was dissatisfied with the real world; obsession with a new TV show. And thanks to my femslash-focused tumblr community, I knew just what my next feel-good show was going to be.

My tumblr friends had told me this: Xena: Warrior Princess is an action-fantasy show that enjoys a cult status, much like Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (which I watched and loved). The two shows were made in the same mid-to-late 90's era, with similar bad special effects and endearing campiness. But XWP is much… MUCH… more gay.

That was about all I knew about the show going in. And amazingly, that was all I needed to know to be excited about watching it. You’d think that fact would have told me something about myself, but no. The mental walls of denial were years in the building and needed more force than that to be shattered.

For anyone unfamiliar with the show’s premise, Xena: Warrior Princess is about the title character and her quest for redemption. You see, Xena did some bad things in her previous life on another show (Hercules: The Legendary Journeys). In her storied career as a warlord, she committed such petty crimes as genocide, the slaughter of innocents, that kind of thing. But now she has seen the light and wants to atone for her crimes. Except she can never undo the terrible things she did. All Xena can do now is help people on a day-to-day basis and hope that it’s enough for someone to show her mercy.

Which is already fantastic from a character standpoint. But there is a secret mirror to Xena’s journey that is not reflected in the show’s title, and that is Gabrielle and her character arc.

Oh! Gabrielle! When I met her in the very first episode, I loved her straightaway. She is a feisty, naive, talkative small-town girl who accompanies Xena on all her adventures. Her character quickly assumes paramount importance in the narrative. Gabrielle is Xena’s only friend. She comes to know her better than anyone else and love her for who she is, all the while believing Xena can reach redemption. Yet Gabrielle is not just a support system for Xena; she goes on her own heroic journey. The two character arcs intertwine and co-develop in a way I have never seen in any show before or since.

As each episode rolled by and their relationship grew in complexity, I found myself more and more engrossed. And I came to realize: this was something I wanted. The day I accepted my own desire was the day I accepted myself. What could be more strangling than denying the existence of your own feelings? Yet I had been doing this to myself for years — cutting off the possibility of being attracted to other women — without even realizing.

Before beginning the show, I thought the fandom had read in between the lines to construct a romantic relationship between the two characters, the same way as femslash shippers do in all other TV shows. Except not this time. This one is mind-blowingly different.

Not only does the narrative place utmost importance on the relationship between Xena and Gabrielle, but the actresses bring such multi-dimensional love to their parts. When I saw Lucy Lawless (Xena) and Renee O’Connor (Gabrielle) interact, I could so easily believe that these two women loved each other beyond friendship. Xena and Gabrielle display every kind of love you can think of. They protect and sacrifice for each other. They tease and flirt. They cuddle and console. They have inside jokes with each other. They dance sexily. They play pranks and drive each other crazy. They sweetly kiss. They come back from the dead together. They bathe together. They raise each other’s children. They meet in alternate timelines and fall in love all over again.

I could have left my mental walls of denial in place. I could have said to myself “oh yes, I want this. But with a guy.” But no. Lawless and O’Connor’s incredibly attractive faces and bodies broke down the door of my mental closet. Precisely because they were fictional, I felt safe to admit my attraction to them. One of the key mental blocks I had always had towards accepting any attraction towards other women was the thought that I was being creepy. That since they could not possibly feel the same way about me, it was wrong to feel the way I did. But in my mind, that barrier didn’t exist with fictional characters. They couldn’t feel anything for me. Therefore, it was fine to feel whatever I want about them.

The walls cracked. The water came rushing in. Oh my god. I am attracted to other women. Like, every day of my life. Those flickers in my stomach when I talk to an attractive female coworker suddenly make a whole lot of sense now. I now saw my historical awkwardness when talking to beautiful girls, which I always dismissed as “me being weird”, for what it was. All those short-term girl crushes on older girls throughout high school. How was I so sure they were platonic? That heart-aching infatuation I had with my best friend that lasted for years? Yeah, add that to the ‘definitely gay’ list.

Since then I’ve realized that my feelings are valid regardless of what others feel for me. Just because feelings are unrequited doesn’t mean they aren’t real. That’s what Xena and Gabrielle taught me. Their fictional example was the final blow to my rapidly-crumbling resistance to the idea of homosexuality.

In our culture today, so many forms of media reinforce heteronormativity. How many commercials have you seen that assume attraction between a man and a woman? How many billboards tell women that they need to look sexy for the men in their lives? How many times has a movie ended with the guy getting the girl? It’s the combined action of a thousand small rocks shifting to make a cultural avalanche. You can’t move against it. All you can do is stand still and try to maintain your footing against the current, to maintain your identity in the face of a world where you and people like you are often swept away by the mainstream.

Xena: Warrior Princess is one of those rare stories that dares to go against the grain. It celebrates a romantic relationship between two women as the most natural thing in the world. And in doing so, it provides a mirror for me and people like me to recognize themselves in. There we are. Look at us fly.

This story isn’t over yet. I still have a lot of work to do to accept myself, but thanks to Xena and Gabrielle I’ve taken one huge step towards living the open life I want to live. I moved on from that horrible job and lonely city, but in the end I’m grateful. Grateful that circumstances pushed me to the depths of loneliness necessary to bring down the prison I had built in my own mind.

- How Xena: Warrior Princess Allowed Me To Accept Myself by Lyra Hall

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preciouspeterbparker · 3 years

Text

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished!

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending!

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season.

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay.

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony.

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside.

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.” Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of- Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well.

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?”

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted.

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an�� a trip out to the field sound?”

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio.

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was.

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now.

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been.

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag.

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect.

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb.

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine.

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.”

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car.

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer.

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously.

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me.

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it?

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself.

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy.

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time.

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force. She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”)

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs.

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips.

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone.

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.”

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part.

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could. “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim.

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs.

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there.

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.)

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.” He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises.

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!”

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven?

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man.

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.”

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member. “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.”

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.”

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan.

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole.

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head.

***

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much.

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that.

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together.

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together.

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get.

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms.

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years.

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

#starker #hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas #bloo writes bad things (tm)#enjoy!

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