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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

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Hidden In Plain Site (2)- Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2348

A/N: This was inspired by this wonderful post by @starsholland. Without it this would not be happening. This will be a multi part fic, but I don’t know how many chapters or when it will be posted so if you’d like to be tagged let me know:) Welcome to Tom being undercover on Tumblr. Quick notes- Y/T/B = Your Tumblr Blog

Chapter One || Master List

The edit turned out better than you thought it would. You had decided to use blue and red, since they’re Spider-Man colors and it honestly suits Tom and Haz so well. You still are wondering when the picture is from since you scoured the depths of Google and Tumblr to no avail. It’s either really old, or not really posted. Either way it made an adorable edit and will look great in your edit’s tag. It’s also sparked some ideas for a friendship imagine. It’s been so long since you wrote anything, with work and family stuff weighing you down, but you can picture the outline in your head so as soon as you finish the last touches on your outline, you click open a new document and drop a few lines down to get going.

“What you working on?” Your brother calls to you from across the living room. He knows that once you’re home for the afternoon, it’s not normally work stuff, but sometimes your graphic design projects run into your post work day.

“Just some edits. Nothing too big.”

“Bringing work home?”

“Nope, just working on some extra stuff.” You type some more into the document, wanting to make sure that everything is hitting the moment right. In your browser, you pull up your tumblr and make a new post.

Ask me stuff while I work on my latest imagine. Give me a number 1-100 and I’ll give you a song from my writing playlist and a memory attached to it.

Across the ocean, Tom can’t sleep. It’s nearly 3am, but something is keeping his mind from sleeping. He should be able to sleep just fine. He isn’t working on any movies that have him worried, he doesn’t have any auditions coming up, and he doesn’t have press for a few weeks. So why can’t he get to sleep?

Lifting his phone in his hand he sees a notification from Tumblr saying that Y/T/B has posted. He swipes across and waits for the post to load. You want questions? Well, he can help with that. Plus, he’s interested in learning about what kind of music you’re interested in.

Anonymous Asked:

33?

Anonymous Asked:

86?

Anonymous Asked:

69;D

Three Anons come in right after another. You weren’t expecting that quick of a reaction. Sure you had a couple hundred followers, but you didn’t tend to get that many reactions to your posts. At least not back to back. But you’ll take it, and reply. As soon as you send the edit to that blog that asked for it.

You pull up the thread between you and tomholland2013. You click the camera button and upload the edit you had done.

Hey, here’s that edit. Hope this works for you!

Surprisingly, whoever is behind the account messages back immediately.

That looks awesome! Thanks so muchX

Hows your night going?X

More like afternoon here lol. I’m just getting some work done after getting home earlier.

How about you? Is it night there?

It’s like the middle of the night here and I can’t sleepX

If it’s middle of the night there, did you see the news?

What news?X

That Tom saved Spider-Man?! It’s been all over Tumblr since I got home from work.

It’s kind of the reason I made your edit in red and blue tbh.

I hadn’t had time to look at my dashboard to be honest. I’ve been busy with work stuff most of the afternoon.X

It wasn’t a lie. Over the past few days having talks between him, Bob and Tom trying to smooth everything over, there wasn’t much time to glance over the explosion that had happened since the original news had been released. But after clicking send on his message to Y/N, he clicks over to your main blog to see the reaction to the news. There are some general reblogs of the news announcing Spider-Man returning to the MCU but then there were also some general posts about Spider-Man and Peter Parker. Your tags are what really get to him. Some like hashtag my-baby-is-back-where-he-belongs and hashtag get-tom-drunk-more-often-if-it-saves-my-baby. He can’t help but laugh at the last one. True he hadn’t exactly been sober when he and Bob had first talked about getting Spider-Man back in the MCU, but he didn’t think that story would take the world by storm.

Going into his settings, Tom quickly updates his picture with the edit you had done for him. Honestly, it looked better than he had hoped for. You had done Spider-Man colors and if he wasn't trying to keep this blog on the down low, he would share it on his Instagram so his fans could see how talented Y/N was. As he hits save, another message comes through from you.

Do you mind if I use the edit I sent you as inspiration for an imagine?

A what?X

An imagine. It’s a specific type of fanfic. I had a great idea of one while I was working on the edit for you, but if you’re not cool with it, I’ll find a different picture.

You did all the work on it. Feel free to use it. What kind of story?X

Basically like a Tom x Reader with hints of Harrison friendship notes in it. It’s hard to explain lol

Have you written other stuff?X

I think everyone on this site dabbles in it from time to time, but yeah I’ve written a few pieces over the past few years.

Do you have a list of them?X

Sure, it’s here.

You had linked a page in your message. Apparently dabbling meant one.. Two.. three… his finger drags down the page as he counts the stories. Holy hell, you’ve written fifty stories about him, Peter Parker and even some of the other Avengers. But most of them revolve around him and x Reader, whatever that means. You had mentioned it in your message, but he wasn’t sure what it meant.

Ok, I’m new to the whole fanfic thing, so pardon my stupidity but what does x reader mean?X

It’s a self insert fic. Basically anywhere that it says Y/N or you, you put yourself into the fic. They’re one of the most popular types of fics.

Before he can reply to your message, a notification comes up saying that Y/T/B has posted a new post.

Anonymous Asked:

33?

Y/T/B/ Answered: Heather by Conan Gray. So I love this song and totally have screamed along with the chorus of this song when I’m alone at home and writing or in my car driving places (otherwise I would freak my family out). When I wrote a fic called The Smell of Your Sweater, on my master list here, I listened to this song on repeat for three days straight to be in the right mind set. Honestly I could probably listen to this song until the end of time and never get sick of it.

Tom reads over the answer and can picture someone jamming out to a song so much that they love it. He pulls open his Spotify app and pulls up the song, because he wants to feel closer to you, even though you’re time zones apart from each other. The fact that it’s afternoon where you are and nighttime where he is makes him think that you’re in the United States.

So reader insert are some of the most popular type of fics, but what are your favorite to read?X

That’s not even something that I would share on a first date lol you’ll be waiting a bit to find out.

Is sharing that you write fanfic something that you don’t talk about on a date?X

Not normally. Talking about it with tumblr friends is one thing because I link it on my blog, but what I read is a whole nother thing. It literally says so much about you with who you read, what ships you ship, and especially what kinks you look for.

KINKS? IN FANFICS?X

You haven’t read much yet have you?

Literally no. I’ve only been on tumblr since I messaged you the first time. That was the day I made my blogX

So you’ve been on for a month? And you’re deciding to get into fanfics?

No I’m thinking I should stay away from it still. It seems like virtual porn.X

It doesn’t have to have anything smutty in it. Just click on ones that say fluff or don’t say smut next to them. You can also block certain tags so they don’t come up on your dashboard. Like Starker is a popular one to be blocked for a lot of people.

I don’t think I even want to know what that is if people are blocking it who are into this porn esque writing. X

It’s not porn lol You seem to have only found smut so far. We need to find you some fluff. Maybe some Tom x Reader?

Maybe I’m just not ready for it after all.X

Does he want to read about himself? Not at all. That seems creepy. But other people write about him too. It’s not just Y/N. He decides to research this further. In the search bar he types in Tom Holland Fanfic. The first four post all say smut or NSFW so he’s not going to bother reading them, but the thing that catches his eye is the fact that they all have over 2,000 notes on them. Two thousand people have liked or reblogged about him in a sexual way? What the actual flipping hell?

Before he has the chance to flip out even more, another notification from your blog pops up.

Anonymous Asked:

86?

Y/T/B answered: Praying by Kesha. THIS WOMAN COULD MURDER ME AND I WOULD THANK HER FOR IT. Plus that chorus makes me want to write some epic breakup scene and have one of the people begging the other to feel the same as they are feeling. Oooooo maybe I feel a one shot coming up. Anyway, a memory of this song- my best friend and I blasted this song while we drove from California to Philly to visit a school. It literally got us through so many hours of that drive. Kesha is bae lets be real. Or is that not what the cool kids say?

When he sent you these asks, he thought he would get one or two sentences in response, but he’s learning so much about you from all of these asks. Maybe he would send you some non song related ones, maybe some To- Peter Parker ones to see what else you liked. Purely science based research.

If you’re not ready for it, don’t push yourself. Fanfics can be a weird mindset to put yourself in. I used them at first to distract myself from some shitty family stuff that was going on, but now I read and write them for fun too. I think I mainly read Avenger ones at first as well as some TV shows too. Plus would I be a teenage girl if I didn’t read a few Twilight fanfics back in my day?

Twilight? Like Rob-Tom makes himself type out Rob and Kristen’s full names like a fan would-ert Pattinson and Kristen Stewert Twilight?X

That one exactly. I was the generation it was aimed for and so fanfics galore were my teen years. But I’m proud to say I’m a recovered Twihard.

Glad to hear it darlingX

What about you? What were you into as a kid?

I’ve always been a fan of Spider-Man, ever since I was a kid.X

Comics or movies?

Comics. They’re the originalsX

Which Spider-Man is the best?

Is that a trick question? Obviously HollandX

Was that conceited? Maybe. But hopefully, Y/N doesn’t think so. Oh wait she has no idea-

It was a trick question. A trick question that you clearly got right.

Another notification pops up and you suddenly remember the last number that you sent Y/N. Well hopefully the number doesn’t seem like you.

Anonymous Asked:

69;D

Y/T/B Answered: Noice.

But the actual answer is Bad Religion by Frank Ocean. This song got me through my last bout of depression lol. I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom with the lights off and just playing this song on repeat. Always open about that here. It also gets me to channel some deep emotions into some pieces that I’m working on because it reminds me of being in that dark place. I also really like the beat of this though, like how it sounds like a mix of an electric piano and an organ. So if I ever name a one shot Bad Religion, it’s probably named after this song.

Tom feels like a weight is sinking in his gut. Almost like someone slammed an anchor into the lower part of his bowl. He didn’t mean to bring up something so dark with that number. He was hoping it would actually make her laugh. So guess he will send her one more number, but this one won’t be on anonymous.

Tomholland2013 asked: 36

Huh, he must have seen all the responses you posted. Between posting and replying to him, you hadn’t gotten much work on your imagine done, but you could post once more before jumping back to your word document.

Tomholland2013 asked: 36

Y/B/N answered: The Night We Met by Lord Huron. I literally saw them in concert with my friends last month so a lot of the memories I have of them are about this. But I have a great fanfic idea for this song specifically. To not spoil it completely I’ll just leave you with three spoilers- first date, first dance, secrets spilled. It’s a work in progress.

Now it’s time to get off the internet and back to writing, or else you’re going to Tumblr your day away.

Taglist: @ serendipitous-amor @im-still-tryin-to-find-it

#tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #imanativeofswlondondahling #imanativeofswlondondahling asks #hidden in plain sight

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fabulousahoy · 4 years

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Original Story - J & O - Chapter 1

I wrote an original story... well part one of it. Dunno if it any good, but imma posting anyway.

A defeated and resigned Pumpkin Man gets a visit from his old “friend” which causes him a lot of trouble.

Far away from all civilization, in a dimension between life and death stands a small house. Hidden from prying eyes of humans and other creatures alike, this house belongs to a certain being. He who once struck fear into the hearts of men, yet now resides here. Alone, detached from everything. He who once commanded the entire might of Underworld, the Lord of Pumpkins himself... Jack'O.

* * *

Returning home with groceries was usually the best part of the "shopping day". Though of course, it's not like Jack'O actually bought stuff. It was more akin to stealing, though he preferred to call it "borrowing without giving back". After all, the only place he ventured to from his pocket dimension is the human world. Buying stuff is quite challenging(impossible) when you have a giant pumpkin for a head. Besides, he did not have any money anyway.

As he crossed over from the usual dirty alley into the dimension his home was in, Jack'O let out a sigh of relief. Navigating human cities always gave him anxiety, even if he does it after dark. Now that he stood at his front porch however, everything was peachy. He snapped his fingers in order to close the dimensional gateway and without even turning back he opened the door with his right foot. There was no need to lock them ever. No one could get into this dimension without him allowing it anyway. Humming to himself Jack'O entered the house, unaware that the gateway did not close completely. A small hole remained through which some sort of black liquid slowly poured in. After couple of minutes it stopped, and the hole closed itself. As if it was alive, the huge pool of black goo began to move towards the house.

After putting away everything he bought, Jack'O sat down down in his favorite(only) armchair by the fireplace and sighed in relief. Reaching out with his right hand towards the table, he took a dart out of a cup full of them and set his aim on the dartboard hanging above the fireplace. This particular one is a custom, which Jack'O made in the image of the creature he despised the most. The dartboard itself had the shape of a demon's head with crudely painted details, such as a shark-teeth smile and an eye patch.

Before he had a chance to throw the dart, a loud knocking noise came from the front door.

- What the...

Jack'O got up from his chair, taken aback by this impossible situation. He simply stood there as the sound continued.

- Who's there?!

The knocking stopped for a couple of seconds, only to resume again at a faster pace. Losing his patience, he decided that the only right course of action is to open the door and face whoever or whatever it is. After arming himself with a frying pan he slowly approached the door and in one swift move opened it. But there was no one there. He stepped out into the porch but he found no signs of anyone or anything.

- Maybe it was the wind. Or maybe I just need more sleep.

With that said, Jack'O returned inside the house and shut the door behind him. Once back inside however he noticed someone is sitting in his armchair.

- Cozy house you got here, Jacky. Mind if I crash here for awhile?

A long time has passed since he last heard this voice. Voice of the repulsing demon who betrayed him and because of whom he became a literal nobody.

- You...

- Indeed. Me.

The entire house shook to its foundations when Jack'O fired a giant beam of dark matter energy from both of his hands. His poor and trusty armchair exploded into nothing in an instant taking the table and darts with itself. Laying on the floor near the fireplace was a demon woman. Long black hair, pale skin, all white Gothic-like coat, a huge eye patch over the right eye and of course a pair of pointy horns. The look on her face was a mix between shock and genuine confusion.

- How dare you show your face to me, you foul carcass of the abyss?!

Jack'O began preparing another attack. Within his hollow eyes burned a fire, one which hasn't burned for long years.

- Look, Jacky. I know last time we saw each other, we had a bit of an uh... scuffle, you and me but...

The Lord of Pumpkins roared like a crazy beast and fired another shot, this one destroyed the fireplace along with the rest of the wall. The woman avoided the blast at the last second by jumping towards the kitchen then rolling into it like a ball. She stopped by hitting the sink so hard the faucet almost came loose. Now laying on the back with legs over her head she watched as the furious Jack'O towered over her like some sort of murderous madman with a vengeance.

- Okay, could you please stop trying to kill me, Jacky? I'm not here to fight you, and besides, I have had enough of a roller coaster ride today as it is.

- Then why are you here?

- Look, if you'll stop destroying your house and we just sit down like civilized Underworlders, I'll tell you everything.

The Lord of Pumpkins' fire seemed to have been instantly extinguished the moment he realized he just destroyed a wall, an armchair and a table. After short overlooking of the rotten fruits of his carnage he turned to the demoness on the floor.

- This better be good, Ovelia.

* * *

Another day, another load of paperwork done. Although she would never admit it in front of anybody, the amount of dumb requests citizens of the Underworld make is astronomically high. For instance, just today she had to deny thirty different pleas from Underworlders who wanted cleaner air. Like, what is she supposed to do about it?

Yawning, she got up from her chair and looked outside the giant window of the office. Thanks to her efforts the once horribly medieval Underworld became a technological juggernaut. Combining magic and technology yielded results surpassing those of humans. So what if the air is not as clean as it used to be? Everyone(who is a first or second class citizen at least) gets free cable TV and all the wondrous perks of magic and technology at the same time. It's a win-win all around, unless you're a complete failure and can't even afford shoes. In which case, oh well.

Taking out a small mirror out of the pocket in her coat, Ovelia took a look at her eye patch, and seeing that it is crooked she fixed it up.

- Well, nothing wrong with indulging myself a bit.

Back at her desk, she pressed the button four on her intercom. After two beeps a tired voice answered the call.

- Yes, miss Ovelia?

- Hans, if I have any appointments today then I want you to cancel them. In fact, tell everyone I am out and about doing charity or whatever it is.

- You want to watch "Funnies in the Family", right?

There was a brief but tense silence.

- Shut up.

She pressed the button again to terminate the call. Now that all of the "chorepointments" were null and void, she could enjoy the luxury of her favorite sitcom... or so she believed, because the lights went out, and the reinforced glass window behind her simply shattered.

- What. - She mumbled, quite confused.

With multiple pieces of glass now lodged in her back, Ovelia turned into black liquid and then swiftly reshaped back. Now free of the pieces, she took a look around her office which had shards of the window everywhere.

- This is going to be a witch to clean up. Welp, good thing it is not going to be me.

She pressed button four on the intercom couple of times, until it hit her that it wasn't just the lights that went out.

- Drat. Now I'll have to walk.

- Excuse me! Can you finally turn around for scariness' sake?!

Ovelia sighed and turned around towards the raspy voice. What her eyes beheld, could be simply explained as black floating rags, some chains and a bag of bones with barely any meat on them.

- By the seven pits... who let you in here, you filthy hobo?!

- What? I'm not...

- Yeah, yeah. Sure. You probably prefer to be called a "jobless individual". What? Cannot find any work for a fellow of your education?

The bag of bones and rags laughed like a maniac who smoked one cigarette too many in his life.

- Well, you see. I'm not going to be jobless for much longer, Abyss Demon!

- Indeed. That is me.

- Because I'll be taking your seat at the top of the Underworld!

With that said the bag'o'rags laughed again. Ovelia smiled wryly in response.

- Okay, that was cute and all. Now get your tattered bones out of here before I'll have to remove you myself.

- You... you don't remember me, do you?

She raised an eyebrow.

- Should I?

The hobo shrugged and took out a book from behind his ragged cloak. Upon opening it, and quickly skimming through a couple of pages, he began reading a passage in a language most ancient. A magical circle appeared under Ovelia's feet.

- I think I have had enough of your wacky hijinks. Get... out!

Usually at this stage she would make a very scary face, the air would tense up and the intruder would have been knocked out of her office, in pieces at that. Instead, she just lost her balance and fell face-flat onto the floor.

- Buh-wha? - She mumbled, spitting out a shard of glass from her mouth. The raspy laugh resounded again.

- It worked! It worked! Bless your dark heart, Abysswalker!

- What just happened?

Ovelia got up slowly and arrived at the conclusion that she feels much less powerful than usual. It was almost as if she had no crazy broken powers at all anymore.

- This spell was made specifically to deal with you, Ovelia! To be more precise, it seals most of your great power!

Before she could even process this information the raggedy hobo grabbed her by the hair and dangled outside of the window.

- It's a long way down, little abyss runt.

- Who in the seven pits of hell do you think you are?! You will not get away with this!

- Who? Why, I am... The Boogeyman!

With that said, he let go of her hair and in accordance with the laws of gravity, Ovelia plummeted down. In the brief moments during her fall she could hear the raspy, yet roaring laughter of victory. Then, there was only darkness and silence.

* * *

- Hold up. Boogeyman? The same Boogeyman we trashed completely and threw down into the Sea of Gehenna?! That Boogeyman?

- Well, considering he seems to kinda hate me, I think so.

Jack'O sighed.

- Look, if he hates me, then he hates you as well, Jacky.

- He only went after you because you were the top dog in the Underworld. Now that you were thrown away like yesterday's trash I'm sure he has more important things to do than go after me. Besides, he can't find me anyway, secret dimension, no?

- Uhh...

Jack'O sent Ovelia a cold piercing gaze.

- Which brings me to my next point. How did you find me?

- After Boogeyboy noticed I am not dead, he sent multiple assassins after me. I high-tailed it to the human world to lose them. After I wandered a bit, I noticed you going about in the dark with your bags of merchandise. I knew I could hide inside your dimension if I followed you. It was a pretty lucky coincidence, I must say.

- Mhm. - He shrugged. - Alright.

Jack'O turned around towards the kitchen, only to quickly turn back and punched Ovelia right in the gut. The might of the hit sent her flying right into a bookshelf. It immediately collapsed right on top of her. He carefully watched her turn into liquid then reform back into regular form next to him.

- What was that for?! - She asked, pouting.

- You tell me. While I would be otherwise inclined to believe in our "lucky" and "coincidental" meeting, I just simply can't. You said you "knew" about my dimension. From where? Who else knows?

- Uhhh...

Jack'O cracked his knuckles.

- Alrighty! Fine! I kept spying on you after you left, so I could laugh at you! I had special cameras installed at almost every place you visit! That way I always had a fresh stream of your misery!

They both stood there in complete silence for a bit.

- I can't believe this. I need a drink.

With that said, the Lord of Pumpkins simply went into the kitchen and returned with two cups filled with vodka. After staring at puzzled Ovelia for a couple of seconds, he poured both cups down his throat, one after the other.

- So... can I stay here?

- No.

As if on cue, the sky of the dimension split open with a loud and terrible noise and through the crack flew in a giant dragon. Alongside him a four armed being, whose head seemed to be composed of flames, descended upon the house.

- I have found you at last, wretch of the abyss! By the order of the almighty Boogeyman, I, Pyreman - Lord of Fire and Ashes, will cast burning judgment upon you and your comrade!

Upon finishing his speech, he threw a bunch of fireballs down onto the house and laughed proudly as everything around quickly went ablaze.

#original story #spooks #well kinda spooks #jack'o lantern #ovelia

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andiwantitliao-blog · 6 years

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Part 3 of my first fanfic. It takes place in highschool. When kaitlyn and MC meet for the first time. (AU)

--------

The New Girl. Part 3

Charlotte rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, the whole time trying to fight off the spiraling feeling in her stomach. The blush that covered her cheeks was only getting worse as each second passed. Quickly closing the door behind her, Charlotte leaned against it, taking slow careful breaths.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' She thought to herself. Shaking off the nervous feeling that captivated her, she walked to her window, slyly looking over at the house with the blue door, just across from her. Unknowing how long had passed since she first looked, she jumped as a light switched on in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Hiding herself out of view, she sidestepped away from the window and tried to collect her thoughts. Before she could process what was going through her head, Charlotte found herself peaking back through the window as covertly as she could. In the now lit up bedroom of the house opposite her, kaitlyn stood, shrugging off her jacket and falling backwards in to a desk chair which rolled backwards as she collided with it. Charlotte could feel her heart quicken with nerves and was unsure why she was even looking at her still. Kaitlyn was an enigma. A girl who seemed to appear from nowhere and had already found a place in charlotte's mind to carve as her own. Kaitlyn pulled her phone from the discarded jacket and turned towards the window of her bedroom. As she saw her turn, Charlotte ducked out of view and sat on her bed that was still unmade from this morning.

Running her fingers through her hair, Charlotte sighed heavily, feeling unusually stressed by the last few days. Everything that was going on with Laura, and now whatever was going through her mind was pulling her attention in every direction. Falling back against her pillows, Charlotte picked up her phone, hoping for some kind of distraction. As she unlocked the screen, it vibrated along with a sharp -PING-. The notification took her to her social media account, and a new friend request from kaitlyn.

Charlotte's finger hovered over the -Accept- button, but before she confirmed it, she opened kaitlyn's profile. The page was awash with punk and gothic texts and pictures. She had been tagged by friends (probably the ones back in texas) in all sorts of macabre posts; most of which were different music videos. Without giving herself time to think of a reason, Charlotte searched through kaitlyn's pictures and was lost in looking through all of the different faces, poses and gestures that made kaitlyn look like a totally different girl entirely, compared to the timid, soft spoken girl she had met yesterday. Charlotte snapped herself out from the daze she had found herself in and moved back to kaitlyn's main profile page, hitting the -Accept- button.

Charlotte put her phone down and headed downstairs to wait for dinner to be served. As she sat at the table between Connor and her mum, Charlotte started thinking about Laura again and how she hadn't heard from her, still. Worry filled her mind as the thought of Laura's tearful eyes and uncharacteristic embarrassment swept over her. Laura would usually go to Charlotte first when something bad happened. Not hearing from her all day was unnerving.

Once Charlotte had eaten all she could, she walked toward the stairs, only to have the back of her shirt pulled by Connor. "Charlie! I think I left my Rangers plush in your room last night. Can I look for it?" He asked gleefully.

"Sure." She laughed, escorting him up the stairs. Connor burst in to her room first, quickly retrieving the soft toy. As he spun it around in the air, he suddenly stopped at her window and began waving the toy in the air with a joyous laugh.

"What are you doing?" Charlotte mused as she sat on her bed.

"Its your friend. The Renegade Ro..." he quickly cut himself off before he could say anymore. "Look..." He said, pointing out of the window. Th evening had darkened, making the light coming from kaitlyn's room all the brighter. As Charlotte stepped over to the window, she saw kaitlyn performing air-guitar which was making Connor bounce with happiness. Charlotte laughed as she watched on from the side of the window, kaitlyn hadn't seemed to notice her yet. As she stepped over to ruffle Connor's hair, kaitlyn paused, looking embarrassed, even from the other side of the street. Taking the hint, Charlotte stepped away and laid back on her bed. A few minutes had passed with Connor trying to silently communicate through the window. Charlotte turned on her tv which made her brother look over at her.

"Sorry, I'll go to my room so you can watch your shows." He mumbled.

"Its ok, do you want to watch with me?" She asked with a smile.

"No its ok. Im going to watch a movie." He said as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Charlotte turned her attention back to the tv, trying to distract herself from thinking. Unable to give in, she picked up her phone and sent a text to Laura.

-Hey gorgeous. I don't really know what to say. I just hope that you're doing as ok as possible. Talk to me when you feel ready. Love love love. Xoxoxoxoxo [sent]-

She waited a few minutes for a reply but nothing came. Laura is glued to her phone 100% of the time and she can text faster than most. She probably didn't want to talk yet. Setting the phone on her nightstand, Charlotte flicked through the channels, trying to find something worth watching. Before she could settle on something, her phone buzzed loudly against the wooden nightstand and she fumbled to quickly pick it up.

-one new message-

Charlotte readied herself for what Laura might say or might not say. Opening the text, her eyes widened to realise that it was from kaitlyn.

-Hii. Stole your number from your profile. Yur little brother is so cute. Do you know what he was just doing? Oh... its Kaitlyn btw :))-

Charlotte felt conflicted. On the one hand, she had desperately wanted to hear from Laura. On the other hand, hearing from kaitlyn felt exciting. Trying her best to not seem too eager, she text back.

-lol hi. I know, he's adorable. But no... what was he doing? [Sent]-

-he was standing at his bedroom window, waving a plushie toy at me. I think I actually convinced him I'm a superhero B^) -

Knowing that Connor's bedroom was on the other side of the house, Charlotte let out a slight laugh and got up from her bed. She picked up the dry erase board from her desk and wrote 'BOO' in large bold letters. Now standing by her window, holding the board, she quickly text back.

-No way! What's he doing now? [Sent]-

Charlotte waited just a few seconds for kaitlyn's figure to emerge by her window. As she came in to view, Charlotte could see the smile break across her lips when she jokingly placed a hand against her chest as though she had been frightened. Pulling out her phone she glanced back toward Charlotte as she typed.

-you scared me!-

-You mistook this for my brothers room. You had it coming :P [sent]-

-Oh no! Im so sorry. What can I ever do to make it up to you?-

As her eyes scanned the last message, Charlotte felt her cheeks flush. A seemingly innocent question was loaded with possibility and it made her mind race along with her heartbeat. Her fingers were still, trying to find the will to compose the next message. Looking back up at kaitlyn and with a deep breath, Charlotte typed out;

-I see a guitar behind you. Maybe you could serenade me? Lol [sent]-

She waited for the reply, already feeling anxious about the light flirtation in her message. A quick glance up at kaitlyn showed her looking exactly as conflicted as Charlotte had felt moments ago; until her phone buzzed again.

-you really don't want to hear me sing. It'll ruin my entire reputation with you lol-

-pfft. What makes you think I have such a high opinion of you anyway? [Sent]-

Charlotte was still stealing glances at kaitlyn between the messages. It was impossible to tell for sure but she was certain that kaitlyn looked at least a shade more red as she typed out her reply.

-well you did ask me to serenade you. You must like me a little?-

At that, Charlotte felt her stomach drop. Nerves suddenly got the better of her. She could feel her palms start to sweat and her breath shake.

-duhh. That's why we're friends lol. [Sent]-

With that, Charlotte tossed her phone on to her bed and speed walked to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the hanger on her way. Once inside and with the door locked; She turned on the shower and leaned back against the sink, trying to make sense of the conflicting thoughts inside her head. Other people had flirted with her in the past, her boyfriends, guys at school, even Laura (though it was always made clear that it was a joke). So why was this playing on her mind so much?

#the junior #the sophmore #the sophomore #the freshman #mc x kaitlyn #kaitlyn x mc #kaitlyn liao #kaitlyn #pixelberry #choices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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5/22/21 DAB Chronological Transcription

Psalm 95, 97, 98-99

It's the twenty second day of May. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological. I'm Jill. I am happy to be here with you because I'm on this journey with you as we are journeying through the Bible in chronological order every single day for a year. And it's truly my pleasure and my most humble honor to be reading the word of God for you and with you along on this journey. Today, we're reading in the Psalm and we're reading Psalm ninety five, Psalm ninety seven, ninety eight and ninety nine. And we are still this week in the English Standard version. Psalm ninety five. Commentary:

Well, guys, I'm going to be honest, it's been a really hard week for us. I mentioned a few days ago Brian lost a mentor of his that left an indelible mark on his life. And it is no small statement. It's the absolute truth that the podcast would not be in effect without his mentor, Bernard Terry, who taught him music, who taught him how to navigate his way through a studio and the industry which ultimately brought him to here. And then the next day, I lost a friend. That was my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Chuck Flowers. And today Mr. Flowers was laid to rest, his memorial was today. And just in the midst of some other tough things. And, you know, I don't like to make this so personal that it takes away from the Bible, but I also know that it's sharing in the struggle that makes us relatable with each other, that we can identify our own struggle if we never hear that somebody else's struggle then we sit in the shame and the feelings that we're all alone and that nobody understands what we're going through. And that's just not true. I actually wish there were more people in ministry that were willing to be vulnerable with the struggle and not just always talking about the overcoming high mountaintop experiences. Those are wonderful. They're rightfully celebrated. But there's something very powerful about when we share our pain, when we share our struggles. And my heart is heavy today, thinking about Mr. Flowers. And the only reason why I am mentioning this is because you have those people in your lives that when you look back and reflect, you undoubtedly know there was a changing point in your own life. Like I did not proceed the same after this happened. And Mr. Flowers was that for me, he was a kind, gentle, yet strong, solid rock in his faith. Steadfast, fun, fair, just honorable, good, great man. If he had you as a student, he knew everyone in your family by name, he knew of your parents. Just an unforgettable year and still not to the reason why I'm mentioning it. Still just explaining him to you, Mr.Flowers, was someone that was always safe. We were safe with him. He was trustworthy. And I find those qualities irreplaceable in humanity. Where I'm landing. This is I found out last year. Let me back up just a little bit. We connected about ten years ago on Facebook and we just exchanged sentiments. And of course, he asked by name of every single one of my family members. And I'm a big fan of letting people know the impact that they've had on our lives in this life and not after they're gone in a room full of strangers. And so I did that often and I would just reach out and let them know how much I still value the lessons that he taught. And you can imagine my shock when I found out last year that he and his family went through the Daily Audio Bible together with the entire family, and they would just keep this running thread of conversation going in a family text. Mr. Flowers son, whom I graduated with years ago, listened to the Daily Audio Bible for several years before he ever knew that Brian was my husband and that we graduated together. And I think Brian mentioned something of my music and in the name and because I stayed with my maiden name, Dan recognized it and we connected. So I know that he listened. It just was something else to know that your teacher, who taught you and influenced your life in such a way. That it is forever changed is then partaking in something that you're doing and hoping that it matters in this life. And so I just really wanted to honor him today as he's laid to rest. His sons are are wonderful. One is pastor and a counselor, and the other one works for the Food Bank of Ohio. So you can see that their heritage is rich and it lives strong through my friend Chuck Flowers. And I do so because he was a member of this community. He didn't miss for a year last year and 20 twenty. And so you may not have ever known him or that fact, but it just was really important for me to honor this man who has also left an indelible mark on my life. So Mr. Flowers is home, is in the presence of God, and I am thankful and grateful for the hope of eternity. But I'm not going to dismiss the grief and the pain that we feel here on this Earth just because they are home. It is quite a shock to our reality that this person that we have only known in this life is suddenly gone and will be for for the rest of our lives. So understanding where they are is right and beautiful. But honoring and understanding where we are at in this place of loss is also right and beautiful and necessary as a part of the grieving process. So thank you for allowing me the chance to honor this beautiful human being. Chuck Flowers today on the day that his family honors and puts into perspective the fullness of his life here on Earth. We thank you that while we mourn, while we grieve, while we experience loss here on this earth, that your presence is with us, that there can be holy moments in the pain and in the sadness and holy moments and the joy. Thank you for this community and how well they love one another, how well they bear one another's burdens, encouraging one another, praying for one another, seeing one another, sharing their experiences with one another. And I thank you, God, even for the pain, the pain of this life as Jesus himself said, blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted. But we so quickly forget that he calls us blessed as we grieve, as we mourn, as we feel the loss, as we sit with the heaviness. So we thank you for your word. That is life to us. That speaks to us. That is your presence with us, the living, breathing word of God that never returns void. We absolutely love you. And worship you and thank you for this day. Right now here today, these moments together right here. In the name of the father and the son. And the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Announcements:

Daily Audio Bible, that's the place to go, guys, if you want to take a look around and check out the website, check out the prayer wall if you would like to post a prayer request there. There's people that will pray for you. If you want to check out the resources, the initiatives, the music as played in the background is sold there. There's a journal that will help you enhance your journey. If you want to jot down some notes from the day, something that stuck out to you or something that God spoke to. You don't want to forget the black pencils. It's all- I could go on and on. Of course, the coffee. I'm a big fan of the coffee, but anything that you would want, you can check out at the Web page and also download the free app as well. If you would like to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, we thank you greatly, humbly and deeply for your partnership. We could not keep this running without you. You can do so by mail at DAB P.O. Box one nine nine six Springhill, Tennessee, three seven one seven four. If you have a prayer request, if you're calling in to pray for somebody that's previously called in asking for prayer, you can do that by hitting the red circle button up at the top right hand corner of your mobile phone or your tablet or whatever device you might be using. Or if you are calling on your phone, it's eight hundred five eight three two one six four. Thank you for praying for each other. Thank you for shouldering that load and bearing one another's burdens. It is truly a beautiful picture of the body of Christ. I love being on this journey with you. I truly do. I it gets old, I say it almost every day, but I literally cannot wait to turn the page together every single day. And see how the story unfolds. See what God speaks and see how the stories of our own lives are mirrored in the pages of God's holy word. So until tomorrow, I'm Jill. I love you, love one another.

Community Prayer Line:

Hi DABC, this is Riley from Colorado. I am actually a first time caller and I'm also kind of new to this scene. A friend referred me to this app back in December, and I started listening the first of January and have been listening up until now. I've been trying to figure out who I am religiously and spiritually, and this podcast has really helped me a lot and really sets my mood for the day. And how I go throughout my day is very different when I miss a day. But anyway, Jill, I just wanted to say thank you for making this environment so warm and welcoming. I've learned a lot. And like I said, I love listening every day. But the main reason I'm calling today is because I heard a prayer request from Emme from Illinois. And I cannot even begin to understand what you're going through. But I can tell that you're in a lot of pain. And I just want you to know that you are in my prayers and I'm thinking about you. All right. Thanks, guys.

Hi. This is Teresa from North Carolina, and this is in response to Emme from Illinois. Emme, just hearing your voice today and your plea for your marriage and your pregnancy just it just caught me on so many levels. I just wanted to pray for you so badly, and I did. And so I just want you to know that you're not alone, that you're loved, and you have a community of people that are loving you and praying for you. You mentioned that you had a safe place to go, and that probably may not be a bad idea right now. If you have a safe place to go, you might be good for you to step away and have some space and to pray. Pray for your husband. Pray that God's will be done. Pray for discernment. Pray for guidance. Pray for the broken hearts. Pray for your step children. Praying for somebody that has hurt us is probably the hardest thing to do. But God will honor that, whether it's in reunification or not. To have a healthy friendship if the marriage doesn't work out is equally as important. So let me just pray right now. Dear Heavenly Father, we just come to you on behalf of Emme in Illinois and her baby Lord. We come to you on behalf of their marriage. Lord, we ask that you be involved in every situation, every action. We ask that her husband come to know you as well, so he can love his family and treat them the way that they deserve to be treated. God, marriage is not hard. It is not for the weak. It is not for the weary. But we ask that you be in it. In Jesus name we pray. Emme, I am Teresa Levy on Facebook if you need to reach out. I'm also on Daily Audio Bible Chronological Friends. Thank you Lord for Emme from Illinois. Thank you that she loves you. She has a heart for you. Thank you that you're working in her life. Thank you. That you ordained the days of her life. Thank you that you before you lay the foundations of the earth, you knew that this day would come. Thank you. You're in control of all things. Thank you that you look at all the things and you're always there for us. Give you the praise for that. Thank you, Lord, for marriage. Thank you for her heart to look after her family. Thank you for her love- even foster children. Thank you, Lord. We give you the thanks, we pray, Lord, we bring up before you, Lord, we lay before your throne now and we ask you that you intervene in a situation that you show the light and the truth in a situation that the scales may fall off the eyes of either her or her husband or even both. Anywhere there is deception. Lord, we pray that your truth and your light will show the way. You are the author of marriage. You are the wealth of this institution. And we can only do it in your strength and your way. And it is our prayer today, Lord, that that be the case for Emme and her husband and the family. That your name will be glorified, that the situation that you put in place will flourish and be a light in the world that so despises it. That your ways and your kingdom will move forward in the name of Jesus we ask and we pray. Dear Emme from Illinois, may the Lord bless you and keep you. May he make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May he lift up his countenance to you and bring you peace. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted. He hears the cries of the righteous. His eye is on them. And I encourage you to bring every burden to the Lord. And be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, present your request to the Lord and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Dear God, I just wanna lift up Emme from Illinois. I know that she's having a really hard time in her marriage and with her pregnancy. And she's looking for guidance. So I just pray that you will guide her, that you will give her the answer she's looking for. I thank you for her and her faith and her life, Lord. And I just pray that you will be her comforter and that you will lead her to take steps one by one. To where you want her to be and and to to be able to live her life for you in your joy and in your peace and in the way that you want her to, Lord. And I just thank you that she is seeking you and that she is leaving the you know, the decisions to you, Lord, and I just pray that you will be crystal clear with her and that you will answer her in a way that she knows for sure that it's in your guidance. And and I just pray that you will bless her and her family and her children and her stepchildren in Jesus name. Amen. This is Radiant, Rachel.

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save-the-cronch · 7 years

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Sincerely Me

Welcome to my fic that is using a title that is overused! Anyways, this is based off a set of one-shots I posted, originally, on my other account.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Evan kept his head down as he walked to the school’s computer lab. He had to quickly finish his ‘self-help’ letter before his mom picked him up for his therapy session with Dr. Sherman. Slowly, Evan pushed open the door to the lab and shuffled over to a computer on the right side. Silently, he logged into the computer, found the google chrome search logo, clicked on it, and signed onto his google drive account. He moved the cursor over to the google doc containing his letter. After he clicked on it, he watched as a new paged popped up, and his letter loaded onto the screen. Evan quickly read over the letter, and noticed that he left off with:

Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe, nothing would be different at all.

He silent thought for a second, tapping his fingers on the table. Eventually, he began to type out the last part.

I wish everything was different. I wish I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean, let’s face it, would anyone even notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?

He stopped typing briefly. Evan knows this isn’t what his therapist had in mind for him to write. These letters are supposed to say the good things in life, but when there aren’t any good things, why make it up? Why not just tell the damn truth? No one would even care anyways.

Sincerely, your best and dearest friend, me.

Suddenly, his phone began to ring. Evan fumbled with it in his pocket. He quickly checked the caller ID and was relieved to see it was his mom calling him.

“H-hello?” He asked. Evan has always hated phone calls, can't stand them. Even though it was just his mom calling, he still stumbled on his words.

“Evan, I’m not going to be able to bring you to your appointment. They needed extra help at the hospital and I was the only one on duty. Also right afterward I’m going to class, there are leftovers in the fridge for dinner.” Heidi Hansen rushed her words as if she really needs to get back to work. Which, Evan assumed, she probably does.

God, Evan thought, I'm such a burden, she wouldn't need to work so hard if I wasn't around. I have so many problems. She has to spend too much money on my pills and therapy, I hate it.

"O-okay, yeah, I’ll ea-t that.” Even while he says this, Evan knows he won’t.

“Did you finish your letter sweetie?" Evan knows that all his mom wants is for him to get better. However, he also knows that she knows she'd have a better life without him.

“Yeah, I just pr-printed it n-ow.” He says, clicking on the little printer button on the top right of the screen.

“That’s fantastic sweetie. I’ve gotta go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Totally fantastic. Except for the fact that his letter basically states that he wants to just disappear and never come back.

Evan nods his head but then realizes she probably couldn’t even see him. Stupid. “Okay, love you.”

“Love you too honey.” And with that, she hangs up the phone.

Evan sighs once again, and then, he stands up to go and grab his letter. Before he can even take a step, Connor Murphy appears in front of him. Oh great. Evan really hopes he's still not mad about this morning. Connor had thought that Evan laughed at him, and so he shoved him to the ground. However, what had really happened was that Evan didn't laugh at him, He would never laugh at him. He would never laugh at anyone really. Evan was just nervous, and so he let out a nervous chuckle. Because of this, Evam have a mental freak out moment. He still didn’t know if Connor’s here to yell at him some more or what but he was absolutely terrified.

“Evan? Right?” Connor asks, looking Evan up and down, then into his eyes. Evan shivered slightly and nodded. Evan didn't shiver because Connor was scary, he's actually really pretty. Like his sister, Zoe. Wait, not the time Evan. Shut up. Evan looked back at him, and he noticed something. Connor seemed like he was trying to tell Evan something, but then seems to think better if it and instead says, “How’d you break your arm?”

It was an easy question to answer, Evan had practiced the answer many times, but he still stuttered.

“Oh, uh, I f-fell. Out of a tr-tree.” Evan stuttered out, picking at the hem of his shirt. Evan hates lying, but he didn't want people to see how broken he really was.

“Well, that’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Oh my god!” He laughs out.

Oh, how wonderful. Evan thinks. Now I'm an even bigger loser.

Evan nodded, “Yeah, uh, yeah.”

Connor glances at Evan’s cast, and he seems to notice no one has signed it.

Shit, now I not just a loser, but a friendless loser. Evan doesn’t know how this could get any worse.

“No one’s signed your cast.” Connor points out as if Evan hadn’t already realized no one liked him.

“Yeah, uh, I kn-know.” Evan just wishes he could stop stuttering, dammit!

“I’ll sign it.” Connor offers, probably pitying Evan. Defiantly pitying him. Most people did.

“Oh, you, you don’t have to.” Evan mentally hits himself, what is he doing? He needs his mom to think he actually talked to people. Why is he telling him no?

Connor ignores him and He holds out a hand, expecting a sharpie. Thank God he's persistent.

Evan nods his head and then stuffed his hand into his pocket. He pulled out the unused sharpie and handed it to the taller boy.

He grips Evan’s hand and tugs it towards him. “Ow,” Evan mumbled.

“Sorry,” Connor seemed to have pushed it out. As if he's not used to saying sorry. Connor quickly scrawls out his name, filling up half of the blonds cast with it.

“Oh, thanks,” Evan said, with a kind of sarcastic, sort of thankful, and a bit of wanting to get the hell out of there asap tone of voice. Thankfully though, Connor doesn’t seem to notice and smiles at the shorter boy. However, it’s more of a grimace. He then takes a piece of paper from his bag and lifts it up.

“Is this yours? I saw it at the printer. ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ You're last name is Hansen, right?”

“Uh, yeah that’s mine, um, th-thanks.” Evan reached to take it, but Connor pulls back.

“Because there’s Zoe? What the hell,” He whispers this, seemingly confused, and Evan begins to freak out. Once again.

“C-connor, please give that ba-back.”

“You did this on purpose!” Connor’s yelling now, Evan hopes he can maybe calm him down?

“What?” Very good Evan, ask a fucking question. This is super helpful.

“Yeah, you saw I was the only other person in here so you printed this wanting me to see it.” Evan knows that Connor is totally misunderstanding the situation. Evan also knows that he has no clue on how to deal with this.

“No, I-”

“You were hoping I’d freak out right? So you can tell everyone what a fucking freak I am?”

“No, please-”

“Well FUCK YOU!” The long-haired boy pushed past Evan and runs out of the computer lab. All Evan can do is stare at him as he runs, forgetting that he still has his letter.

“You what?” Jared asks from the other side of the phone, clearly enjoying the situation that Evan had gotten himself into.

“I-I printed my letter out at school and Co-connor saw it. He thought I wanted t-to get him ma-mad! He saw that I me-mentioned Zoe, and-”

“Wait, so he read some crazy sex letter you wrote about his sister? That’s messed up.” Evan starts to really hope that Jared stops laughing soon.

“It wasn’t a sex le-letter Jared! It’s for my therapy-therapist.” Evan is trying to explain this the best he can, but Jared doesn't like to listen. He never listens.

“You write sex letters to your therapist? That's kinky.”

“JARED!”

“Whatever man, but why are you telling me this?” Evan can imagine that Jared is probably lying upside down on his bed, playing video games. He's definitely not paying attention to their conversation at all.

“Because you’re my cl-only family fr-friend.” That's all they’ll ever be because Jared knows that Evan is too much of a weirdo.

“Yeah, okay, I gotta go dude. Good luck with that sex letter!”

“IT’S NOT A-” Before Evan can finish, Jared hangs up the phone. Evan groans, tossing his own phone onto his bed.

How the hell is he supposed to convince Connor Murphy that that letter was meant to cause no harm.

Also, how is he supposed to get it back from him before he tells the whole school? And, once the school knows how will he live through the taunts? No, wait, forget the jokes. Connor is probably gonna kill him.

God Dammit.

Connor stared at the orange bottle in his hand as he sat on his bed. For once it was made, he wanted to feel productive for his last few hours alive. He also had a box filled with all the stuff he had taken from Zoe over the years placed on his desk. He has about an hour before Zoe gets home from jazz band practice, and his mom won’t be home for another two. Connor isn’t sure when his dad will be home, but it’ll probably be late, as usual.

Connor uncaps the bottle and empties all the pills into his open palm. With no more thought, he downs all the pills and lays back onto his bed, waiting for the effects to kick in.

Zoe Murphy usually considers herself a lucky girl. She’s lucky because she made jazz one as a freshman, and sits in the first chair. She’s lucky that she is smart enough to be in most senior classes. She’s lucky that Alana Beck actually considers her a friend. She’s lucky that her brother doesn’t follow through on his death threats.

Zoe Murphy is also lucky that she got out of jazz band earlier than usual. A lot usual. AT least, according to the doctors, she is. Is she had called the ambulance not even five minutes after she had, her brother would have had no chance of survival.

So yeah, Zoe Murphy is a lucky girl. Luck apparently just comes naturally to her, and even though her relationship with Connor has been torn to shreds years ago, she’s glad that she’s luckier than most. Really fucking glad.

“Yo, Evan, did you hear what happened to Murphy last night?” Those are the first words Evan hears out of Jared’s mouth on the second day of school. Evan shuts his locker and looks at his family friend. Jared is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, gripping the straps of his backpack.

“N-no, what happened to-to him?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but you know Calvin Ferrell? Well he lives across from the Murphy’s and he told Kelly Petie who told Kyle Gold who I overheard telling Kevin Lakes that an ambulance showed up at their house around five last night, and Calvin saw Zoe Murphy running out with paramedics pushing a stretcher with Connor laying on it out of the house and into the ambulance. Calvin doesn’t know what happened to him but Connor isn’t at school and neither is Zoe. So obviously it was something really big right? I mean why else would paramedics be there?” Jared is much too enthusiastic about this.

“J-jared! Why do yo-you seem so, so ex-excited? Wh-what if he di-died. That wo-would be te-terr-terrible!” Evan whisper yells.

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it, I mean so what? No one likes him anyway.”

“Jared th-that isn’t nice! You sh-shouldn’t say, say things like that!” Evan remembers how alone he felt this past summer, and knows that whatever Connor was feeling is probably ten times worse than what he feels. He hopes Connor isn’t dead, he decides that if, no when, Connor gets back to school, Evan will try his best to try and brighten the brown haired boy’s day.

“Whatever tree boy, I’m going to class.” Jared shrugged his shoulders and left Evan standing in the hallway by himself. Evan sighs. He knows Jared fakes a lot of how he acts. He just wishes Jared was like he was when they were younger, his actual friend.

Dear Connor Murphy,

I heard about what happened the other week and I want you to know I failed as well, over the summer. You’re not alone.\

Sincerely Me.

Connor stared dumbfounded at the letter in his hands. It was his second day back after being out of school for three weeks, and he had no idea as to why a letter had fallen out of his letter. He was even more confused when he realized the letter was addressed to him and not whoever owned the locker next to him. Then after reading the two sentenced note, he felt something inside him. It wasn’t happiness at being recognized, it was more like relief. Someone out there, though he had no idea who knew in some way how he felt. And who wouldn’t get the smallest spark of hope after realizing that?

Evan watched from around the Corner as Connor neatly folded up the letter and placed it in his hoodie pocket. Then he saw the brown haired boy give a small smile, and Evan couldn’t help but smile as well.

For the next month, Evan continues to write letters to Connor. He writes the letters on Monday and Wednesdays after his homework, then on Tuesday and Thursday mornings he shoves them through the cracks in Connor’s locker. Evan know’s that Connor doesn’t check his locker until after third period, so he knows that he won’t be caught.

Sometimes the letters contain personal information as Evan knows that Connor doesn’t know it’s him, so he’s not worried, for once, about being taunted. Sometimes they just include small things that happen over the week. Usually, the Tuesday letters are the long ones, informing Connor about Evan’s weekend, the Thursday ones usually remind Connor how great he is.

Evan’s noticed that Connor is usually happier on the letter days. He’s also noticed that Connor skips school a lot, but he’s always there on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.

Connor has gotten a total of six letters so far.

The second one was almost as short as the first, giving Connor one simple tip on calming down.

Dear Connor Murphy,

Counting down from ten is always a great strategy to calm down, in my experience at least. Also, my mom, she does it a lot, especially when my dad tries to contact us. He’s very inconsiderate when he does.

Sincerely, Me

Connor felt like punching this guy’s dad after reading it.

The third letter talked a lot about trees, as did the fifth letter. The fourth told Connor that the mystery guy has a crush on a girl in junior year. He wondered if Zoe knew the girl as the letter never mentioned her name. The sixth letter was longer than usual. It seemed as though Letter Guy, as Connor now calls him, was stressing about something and just couldn’t stop talking. It started out about a math test the kid had, then there was a paragraph on why trees are so important to the environment, then two sentences wondering if Connor liked trees as much as he did, and it ended with five sentences of the guy apologizing as to how long the letter was. Connor thought it was hilarious, and kind of adorable. He kept that letter on his bedside table.

After the next two letters come, and Connor finds himself wondering who the guy is, he realizes that he might actually sort of like him. But he tries to ignore it for two reasons. First, why would this guy like him back, especially since he already likes someone else? Second, Connor doesn’t even know who writes the letter, how can he like someone he doesn’t know. However, Connor does know the letter guy, very well from all the information he writes down. He just doesn’t know his name or what he looks like.

Evan sits behind Connor in math class, which Evan actually quite enjoys. Math is fourth period, which means Connor comes in right after reading Evan’s notes on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s. This also means that Evan gets to see the small smile on Connor’s face due to the letters that he receives.Evan always enjoys seeing that smile. It tells him that he was once again successful in making Connor happy. Evan knows that it isn’t a permanent fix, but he also knows that it works for at least an hour. And an hour is better than nothing in his opinion.

After Thanksgiving break, Evan realizes that he hasn’t thought, or written, about Zoe in a month. This really confuses him, how can he go from fawning over the guitar player to never even thinking about her? He isn’t entirely sure.

That is, at least, until the first Thursday of December and Evan catches himself staring at the older Murphy all of math class. At first, Evan tells himself that he was just making sure his letters were still making Connor happy. It wasn’t until Evan was in his room, trying to go to bed while still thinking about the long-haired boy that he shoots up, now fully awake.

“Fuck I like the school shooter.”

Which then leads to Evan actually slapping himself.

“Dammit Evan, stop listening to Jared.”

Evan continues to mutter to himself about the fact that he has just figured out that he is bi. However, he isn’t just bi, no, he’s really really bi for the kid he writes letters to, to make him feel better.

That’s when his mother, Heidi Hansen, Knocks on the door.

“Sweetie are you alright?” She asks, concerned that her son is mumbling to himself at eleven at night.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Evan shouts back, quickly laying back down.

That night Evan falls asleep with only the thought of Connor Murphy on his mind.

The next letter Connor received he was surprised to see that the mystery writer told him he wasn’t into the junior girl anymore. At that, Connor walked to his math class with a small spring in his step. He knows that the letter boy might not be into guys, but he doesn’t like the junior anymore, he has a slight chance now.

When he gets to math, the kid that sits behind him, Evan Hansen, already has a notebook out. Connor remembers in middle school when he had a small crush on the blond haired kid. He can’t help but hope that Evan was the mystery writer.

Connor spends all of math wondering what Evan’s hand in his would feel like.

When Connor walked into math, Evan couldn’t help but blush at Connor’s happy gait. Evan can’t help but hope that it’s because Evan doesn’t like Zoe anymore, and maybe Connor likes him back. But that’s insane, who would like the wallflower anyway?

Evan spends the rest of the class wondering what Connor’s hair would feel like with Evan’s fingers combing through it.

The week leading up to winter break, Evan can’t stop thinking about what he should get Connor for Christmas. Sure, Evan is Jewish and celebrates Hanukkah, he knows that Connor celebrates Christmas. He only knows this because he overheard Zoe asking Alana to come over on Christmas Eve, as Zoe’s parents apparently want to meet her.

Evan wasn’t sure on what to get Connor until he was at the store with Jared because apparently he needed knew flannel and his mom thought he was ditching Evan. Which, he usually does, but Mrs. Kleinman doesn’t need to know that. Evan had seen a couple black hoodies and remembered that Connor’s were all worn out and faded. Then as he was walking up to the cash register, money already in hand, he saw a bowl full of nail polish and quickly plucked out a black bottle. Connor usually as his nails painted, sure they were almost always chipped, but they were also always black. Black seemed to be his signature color.

Wednesday night, Evan wrapped the gift for Connor, taping his note to the present.

Connor Murphy didn’t go to bed until one am that night. Usually, he’s asleep by 12 on Mondays and Wednesdays, but this time he stayed up. He needed to get it perfect. Sure there was a chance that Mystery Writer didn’t celebrate Christmas, but that’s why Connor is signing the card Happy Holidays instead. It doesn’t need to be a Christmas gift. Just a thank you gift.

Thursday morning, when Evan went to put the gift outside Connor’s locker, he was surprised to see it propped open, and not shut like normal. Curiosity was digging at him, so Evan carefully opened the locker and was even more shocked to see a small wrapped item on the bottom of Connor’s locker. He picked it up, and then he noticed the card, which was addressed to him. Well not him exactly, but it did say To: My Mystery Writer and who else would Connor be calling a mystery writer?

Evan felt a small smile grow on his face as he placed the gift he got Connor on the bottom of his locker, and quickly put the one Connor got him in his bag. He then swiftly shut the locker and made his way to his first class.

After third period, when Connor got to his locker, he was glad to see that Mystery Writer took the gift, he was also happy to find out that he was left a gift as well.

Throughout math class, Evan couldn’t focus. He just stared at Connor’s head. Which probably wasn’t a good idea in hindsight as Finals is the week he gets back from spring break, and he really should be paying attention the review they’re doing. But at that moment, he really didn’t care.

The first thing Evan does when he gets home is putting the gift Connor got him under the small house plant he has on his desk. Even though he doesn’t do Christmas, maybe this one time he can pretend.

When his mom gets home and sees the gift on his desk, she asks where it came from.

“O-oh, well um. There’s this b-boy, C-connor Murphy, and earlier this year he wa-was in the hos-hospital? So, um, I decided to, uh, write him letters. I-I wanted to ma-make him feel good. So, uh, I gu-guess he got me-me a gift?”

“Oh honey, that’s so kind of you! I’m so glad you have another friend!”

Heidi was so excited to see the excitement in her son’s eyes as he talked about Connor.

Evan didn’t have the heart to tell his mom that Connor didn’t know it was him writing the letters, which is how he ended up baking cookies with his mom the day after Hanukkah ended. As soon as they were done, Heidi had already left for work, and Evan was tasked with the job of bringing them over to the Murphy’s place.

Before he left, he found a pen and a piece of paper to quickly scrawl out a note.

Cynthia is a bit confused as to who would be ringing her doorbell at nine at night. She is even more confused when no one is at the door, and she looks down to see a plate of cookies with a note taped to it. She leans down to pick up the plate, walks back inside and shuts the door. When she gets to her kitchen, she plucks the note from the plate and reads it.

Dear Connor Murphy

Have an excellent Christmas

Sincerely Me.

Cynthia can’t help but grin at the fact that Connor has a friend. She can’t remember the last time Connor even talked about a friend. Cynthia places the note back onto the plate, then proceeds to pick the plate up and carry it upstairs to her son’s room.

She knocks twice on the door, and the music that was blaring from inside is turned off. She hears heavy footsteps and then the door opens, revealing her son who seems to not have gotten dressed today. Instead, he is in sweats, a tank top, and has an apron covered in paint over his pajamas.

Cynthia doesn’t fail to notice the hard glare on her son’s face, and so she just holds up the plate.

Connor glances at it, and noticing the note, he picks it up and reads it.

Cynthia also doesn’t fail to notice the small smile and slight blush that Connor suddenly now has, as he takes the plate of cookies and ducks back into his room.

Cynthia can already tell that whoever this new friend is, is a good fit for her boy.

Christmas morning comes, and Evan figures that now is a good time to open Connor’s present. He brings the gift over to his bed. He tears open the wrapping paper and finds a book with a note covering the title.

Dear Mystery Writer

You always talk, or write, about how you love trees, so, here.

Evan flips the paper over and sees a beautifully drown Oak tree on the back. Evan knew Connor drew, as that’s what he does for most of math, but he never knew he could draw so, realistically. Before even glancing at what the title says, Evan gets up to pin the tree to his headboard, smiling proudly at it, before looking at the book.

Evan laughs when he sees it’s the Encyclopedia of Trees.

Connor also sits on his bed as he opens Mystery Writer’s gift. First, he looks at the note that was taped to the gift.

Dear Connor Murphy,

Your sweatshirts seem to have a lot of holes, I didn’t know if it was for comfort or what but I got you a new one. Oh, and I really like your nails so here’s some more polish.

Sincerely me’

Connor can feel the blush already beginning on his cheeks.

He unwraps the gift and instantly notices how soft the two hoodies are. He also decides that he will be using the new nail polish until it ran out. He can also feel his blush deepen and nearly scolds himself for feeling and acting this way. He shouldn’t start to like someone he doesn’t know the name of. He really shouldn’t. But then again, when has he ever done something he should do?

A week after school is back in session, the Kleinmans come over to the Hansen’s place for dinner. When Jared enters Evan’s room, he instantly notices the tree that’s still pinned up, and as Evan was gathering snacks downstairs, it felt only reasonable for Jared to see if he could see who drew it. It certainly wasn’t Evan, as his art skills were no better than Jared, who could only draw cartoon cats and nothing else.

When Jared is close enough to read the signature, he would have spat out his drink, if he was drinking something. Why would Conor Murphy draw Evan Hansen a tree?

When Evan walks back into his room, Jared plays innocent and asks his family friend who drew the tree.

When Evan blushes and says that it’s from Connor Murphy, Jared demands that Evan tells him why Connor drew him a tree.

After Evan is done explaining the letters, Jared can’t stop laughing.

“So first, you write sex letters about his sister, and now you’re writing sex letters about and for him?”

“No! Th-they’re not se-sex letter Jared! An-and I only wro-wrote about him on-once!” Which, was the wrong thing for Evan to say as it throws Jared into another fit of hysterics.

For the next month at school, Jared starts to act differently when he’s around Connor, and Connor severely hopes that Jared isn’t the letter guy as that would mean Connor has a crush on Jared, and he really hopes that isn’t the case.

However, for a slight second Connor is relieved when Jared tells him who the writer is.

Connor was casually reading one of the letters when Jared pops up and says “I see you have another love note from Evan tree boy Hansen.”

At that Connor watches as Jared's eyes widen and he quickly leaves. It takes a second for the brand new information to kick in, but then Connor realizes that the cute dorky kid that sits behind him in math. The kid he’s always had a small crush on. The kid he silently hoped was the mystery writer, is actually the mystery writer, and Connor doesn’t remember the last time he was this happy.

Evan was just about to walk out of school when he suddenly heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Connor Murphy running to catch up with him.

“Evan, can we talk? Now?”

Evan isn’t sure why Connor wants to talk to him, but being who he is, he gives a simple nod and lets Connor lead him to the tree that he usually sits under during lunch.

“So, uh, Jared told me you were the one writing letters to me. Is, uh, is that true?” Connor seems nervous and a little hopeful. Evan isn’t sure why.

“H-he told yo-you?”

Connor nods.

“OhgodI’msosorryIprobablywasn’tthepersonyouwantedtpbewritingyouletters. Sorry.”

“Uh, could you repeat that.”

Evan takes in a large breath of air before repeating his previous statement. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I probably wasn’t the person you wanted to be writing you letters. Sorry.” Evan’s nervous that Connor hates him now, and really doesn’t want that. He wants to be friends with him, especially since that’s the closest he can probably get to Connor liking him back.

“No! I’m glad it’s you. You’re probably the nicest kid in school, anyone else I would think was making fun of me. I just wanted to say thanks. So, uh, thanks.” And with that, Connor dashes away from Evan.

The next day at school, Evan is surprised to see a note flutter to the ground after opening his locker. He bent down to pick it up and is happy to find that the letter is from Connor.

From that day onwards, Evan and Connor correspond with letters for each other. They both want to talk outside these letters, be friends in real life as well.

In February Connor finally lets himself fall completely in love with the blond haired boy. However, he doesn’t tell anyone, especially Evan. Either way, Evan likes someone else. Sure, they have some of the same features, but there are plenty of kids at their school with brown hair. And the way Evan describes his crush? Definitely not him. One letter Connor received was all about this crush. Apparently, he has beautiful brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes with a small bit of brown in the left, and a face that was crafted by God himself.

Sure, Connor has brown hair, but so does half the student body. And yes, Connor has a bit of brown in his left eye, but so does Jared Kleinman and this other kid in his AP lit class. And Connor’s face was most definitely not crafted by God. No way in hell.

So yeah, Connor accepted that he likes Evan. Like, a lot. But he’s also accepted that Evan will never like him back. And that’s okay. Or so Connor tells himself.

It isn’t until mid-March that Evan asks Connor if he wants to go grab ice cream on Friday after school.

Connor replies back with a no shit and his phone number.

After school, Connor drove Evan to A la mode, his favorite ice cream place, and they hung out at Evan’s house until Connor left at eleven at night, running into Heidi Hansen, who was thrilled to finally meet the boy her son speaks so highly of. She then asked Connor for his mom’s number so she could talk to her.

Both moms were ecstatic to hear about their sons hanging out.

They were also happy to talk to each other about them.

Both boys had a blush on their faces for an hour afterward.

And both of them fell asleep with the other on their minds, once again.

For the last two and a half months of school, Connor and Evan are practically attached at the hip. Evan was at Connor’s house for Easter since Evan doesn’t celebrate it and his mom was working. Then, they skip prom and just hang out at Connor’s house watching 80’s movies. They fell asleep on the couch, Evan’s head on Connor’s shoulder, and Connor’s head on Evan’s head.

At the end of senior year, Evan informs Connor that he didn’t apply to any schools so that he could take a gap year and save up for school for a while longer. Connor decides then and there to just not go to college until Evan goes. Connor doesn’t want to be alone, he’s not good at making friends, and to get through life he just really needs one. He got lucky with Evan. He doesn’t think he will get as lucky again.

Evan gets a job at the Pottery Barn, and Connor works at the Michael's next door. They always share their lunch breaks together, and they carpool to work as Evan doesn’t like to drive, and Connor does. Plus it means more time being together, and neither of them will pass up that opportunity.

That winter, Connor, and Evan were at Evan’s house. Heidi was at work, taking on the night shift and wouldn’t be home until early the next morning. The boys took advantage of that situation and broke out a bottle of bourbon to share as they watched Lord of the Rings.

By the time they were on the second movie, both of them had a pretty good buzz going on.

And both boys were a little Childish when drunk.

“Hey, hey Evan.” Connor whispers, giggling.

“What?” After there’s a slight pause, Evan asks again, “Co-connor, what?”

“Oh! Oh right! I wanted to tell you something.” Connor isn’t giggling anymore, but he still has a large smile adorning his face.

“And?”

“It’s very important. I’ve know for a while now. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was nervous. Haha, I’m kind of nervous now, but like, less than usual. You know?”

“Co-con, just to-tell me. Please?”

“Oh right! I haven’t said it yet! Well, I like you!”

“I know th-that Con! That’s why we-we’re best fri-friends!”

“No! I mean I love you! Like, I want to date you and kiss you! All the time. But I don’t cause I don’t think you’d like that.”

“Well, th-that’s not true Co-con! I want to kiss you all the time too!”

“Really?” Connor’s very surprised, but also extremely happy.

“Ye-yeah!”

“Then, can I kiss you?”

Evan answers with a swift nod and Connor grabs Evan’s shirt collar and pulls him in for a sweet kiss, that’s long overdue.

When they pull back, neither of the boys have their eyes opened all the way. They’re both smiling, and they’re both still gripping onto each other.

Evan goes in for another kiss, and they fall back onto the couch, kissing lazily until they fall asleep, Evan on top of Connor, arms, and legs tangled, smiles still on their faces.

When Heidi comes home, she promptly ignores the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Instead, she grabs a blanket from the basket by the TV and spreads it over her son and his new boyfriend. She smiles as she takes out her phone to send a picture to Cynthia, telling her that she expects the twenty bucks the next time they go out for coffee together.

She also decides that she’ll talk to the boys about the bottle after she congratulates them.

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hummingbird-operandi · 7 years

Link

Hey you lovely (mostly not but hey, we’ll include the spam bots as well) tumblr’rs!

Long time, I know. Things have been fucked intriguing trying --- they’ve just been; I find myself at the precipice of something new and with that comes another adjustment to how I present myself.

Too Long Don’t Care? Click the link above and follow me...or don’t. #Trigger Warning below. Nothing graphic (some burn blisters #scarification under Semi-Colon), but my life kinda requires it.

TLDR: I’m changing blogs and it’s going to have (but not be limited to) subjects like death, suicide, anxiety, depression, abuse, and other unpleasantness in the effort to broaden the discussion.

So those who know me--personally I mean--know that it is rare on a good day for me to be caught on camera; I have some pretty strong beliefs about what capturing someone’s likeness does post-mortem. Yet somehow;

I’m pretty sure the last time I was taking photos was when I took that one that’s my profile image...which was promptly after leaving the hospital for the second time around; ultimately they marked the beginning of this Los Angelean chapter. Two plus years can hardly be considered an era, yet something about the new dawn breaths fresh--hope isn’t at all the right word, (dash it from this glossary because I do not speak of such things) it is care.

Then I was Annabelle, bipolar, reclusive, smoker...

Now? Well now is both different shades of similarity and something completely new. In this new space (that from which I had come (it seems redundant, but it is not)) I have vastly expanded my understanding of my own my mind/condition. While my gender identity still plays a heavy role in it, I’ve found the term Genderfluid to be the easiest ‘title’ though in reality it’s still more complex.

3 people, 1 platform

I’m not entirely happy with my diagnosis but until my research pans out, i’m stuck with ‘almosts’...*deep inhale*.

So at all times there are three distinct consciousnesses in my brain and at any given time ONE of them has control. The GIF above--from Pixar’s Inside Out--pretty accurately describes when I’m conflicted in Democracy mode (I’ll get to that in a moment) all three have equal control and none (one) plays nice. This is different from ‘voices’ in that direct and instantaneous control is possible (as opposed to a suggestion aspect of control); but this also differs from Multiple/Distinct Personality Disorder in that there is no loss of consciousness...so that’s nice...I guess.

See, the fun thing about the movie is that Pixar personifies emotions and portrays how that affects and controls us...sadness makes us sad, anger makes us angry, etc. This is cute, and fun--in my ‘movie’ those three are each their own being, fully loaded with all the anger, sadness, jealousy, and fear to boot. I wish I could say that one hasn’t set up the other for failure [some call this self-sabotage, I call it pettiness over an argument (the ‘I’ that is writing this currently) won back in 2007 and ‘she’ still gets bitter about...even writing this is pissing me off.

Democracy mode! That’s new. For the majority of my life it has been one in the foreground, BURYING the others; when I had finally allowed ‘her’ to speak it felt like fire coming from my throat--that I had been locked away from childhood into my mid-twenties. My gender presentation had less to do with dysphoria and more with control--she had waited almost two decades watching the other two ruin this vessel.

The GIF above is quite suitable too. None of my ‘me’s’ have names, I just am who I am--but there is a distinct (younger male) [older male] and [female]; the ages are irrelevant (as they say age is) but it’s better to differentiate them that way as opposed to (weaker male) [stronger male] because that greatly underestimates (him). To put this realistically, there’s a lot of “YOU....He...she...we...us” and very little “well (he) said this, {she} disagrees” so narrating out my internal monologue can get a little confusing to read--I’ve lived with it (maybe think about having your siblings in your brain at all times and control over stuff...)

Where the fuck are you going with this?

I’ve learned that fascism doesn’t help anyone.

So I’ve let go (for some time now, but ultimately as well) with gender markers to differentiate when ‘she’ is me, those who know me (who quite frankly are the only ones of whom such a thing would even impact them) know how she carries myself; and she’s had to make a lot of compromises but cohesion is key. Hence--as you can see, having read thus far--the need for a re-birthing.

--------------Trigger Warning below : Scarification -----------------

Semi-Colon

Do you know about the Semicolon Project? No? What the fuck are you still doing here, nothing on this page is nearly as important as what’s HERE. [THIS LINK is a ‘TALK TO SOMEONE NOW’ page. Just one of many not nearly enough.]

It isn’t pretty...that whole night was a brutal rendition of the more poignant scene’s from Fight Club; I did quite literally punch the ever loving shit out of myself more than once. Aaaaaand this was the other outcome. I’ve long said, even though it offers me no peace:

[Self-harming] is a coping method. Is it a good one? Fuck no! But it’s strong. WAY strong. When chaos reigns over logic, when your darkness is quicker than you, when you’re so far shut down even feeling is unmanageable--it works. [S.T.O.P Techniques] {see here} are powerless to the unbridled force of ‘natural reaction’.

I really screwed this one up--it was meant to be more art piece than self-mutilation, but this night was a bad night. It healed okay, but the damage to the structure of the shape is noticeable. Regrettably so.

My semicolon is important to me; it is a constant ((sometimes through the darkness) daily) reminder of WHY I am alive; simply seeing it often can offer me a breath of consideration.

“It’s when an author could’ve chosen to end the sentence, but didn’t.”

So that brings me all the way back around to the beginning (of this post anyway); I grow tired of stagnation--and while the illusion of work (Fiction) was a nice distraction/stretch, I’m doing nothing but avoiding the necessity of work; nonfiction.

I’ve talked multiple times about writing more on the topic of death, the afterlife, depression, anxiety, abuse and so much more™...but rarely delivered. Another product of Annabelle’s indecision and avoidance...every time I got into something of value I’d let it rot; unchecked, unseen, uncaring.

^^^^^^^^

There’s always time to expand on all that. For now, either hit the follow button above, or don’t--this blog (Hummingbird-Operandi) is going to fall into beautiful disrepair; favoring this blog (JakFenchurch) to hideously bloom.

Sure the image is darker, grainier, and complex; but it’s truer.

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nomorelonelydays · 7 years

Text

Sidgeno Mermaid AU anon fic

<< [Chapter 3/?] >>

It takes five people to maneuver the king size mattress and the L-shaped couch through the front door and into their proper places. Geno tips them all fifty dollars but it’s worth it.

He starfishes out on clean sheets and sleeps for eleven hours straight.

When he wakes up it’s still dark out and he curls up at the end of his new couch and turns on the lamp.

It flickers and he picks up the electrical repair book he got from Sid and starts to thumb through it.

He does nothing but read and sleep for the next four days.

Being alone like that is peaceful and he opens his bedroom windows at night and falls asleep to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore and wakes up to the sound of gulls.

It’s also lonely.

The house is small but empty and there’s only so much time he can spend in the diner talking to Jake before he gets too busy to chat.

For dinner he eats cereal alone at the rickety kitchen table that rocks back forth each time he turns the page in the Handbuilt Home, and tries not to miss his old life too much.

Geno is a creature of habit.

He likes routine. Craves it.

Hit the snooze button twice when the alarm goes off and finally get out of bed when it goes off the third time.

Take a shower, get dressed, eat three whole eggs and two egg whites. Whole wheat toast with peanut butter. Check his phone while waiting for the toast to pop up.

Get to the rink ten minutes after everyone else and give as good as he gets when his teammates give him shit.

Pull on the gear, same way everyday. Left skate first and then the right. Be the last one on the ice.

All of that is missing now.

He has no choice but to carve out a new path.

He wakes up on his own now with the sound of the sea and gulls as his alarm.

The water switches from hot to cold without warning and the water pressure is terrible. He has to duck to fit under the showerhead.

Breakfast is at the diner where he works through the menu and listens to Jake tell him what happened in the town over the last 24 hours.

How Mrs. Wilson who works at the post office might be having an affair with Mr. Richards who works at the town garage but how that’s all okay because Mrs. Wilson’s husband is kind of an asshole anyways.

Geno wants to say ‘you gossip like a hockey player’ at least twenty times during each story but he keeps that to himself.

There’s no hockey out here. There might be a rink, or at the very least a pond that freezes over in the winter somewhere further inland. Jake would know if he asked. Sid would know.

Geno doesn’t really want to know. He doesn't have any gear and his knee won’t ever let him go as fast and as hard as his heart wants him to. It’s never been easy for him to do things by halves or quarters. He goes all out.

He thinks of his run down house and the pile of lumber out front and knows that that’s true.

After breakfast he walks around town.

He heads down to the docks and reads about the shipwrecks just off the coast as the fisherman load up empty lobster pots and start their day.

Grey seals line a rocky outcrop a dozen yards from shore and they bark as gull fly overhead.

It really is picture perfect, exactly what he saw in the magazine that him in here in the first place.

With time he’s sure he’ll stop itching for me.

When the library opens he’s there.

Sometimes he beats Sid there and has to sit on the steps until he comes and unlocks the door.

Sid’s never surprised to see him there and always gives him a tight, put upon smile, as he holds the door open for him.

He’s always empty handed. No coffee or food so Geno takes to stopping by the bakery on his way and grabbing a coffee and a something sweet for him.

“What’s this?” Sid looks up at him with warm hazel eyes and it takes a moment for Geno to find the right words in english.

“Coffee and cinnamon bun from bakery. Is yours.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know. You never drink or eat. Worry about you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Is good. Had one myself. Can’t eat another. You want me to get fat?”

“You want me to?”

Geno makes a show off looking him up and down and when his eyes settle back on Sid’s face his cheeks are a soft shade of pink.

“Look good. Little sweet won’t hurt.”

He sticks his tongue against his cheek and watches Sid’s eyes sweep away from his then ducks inside the doors.

Sid eats everything he brings. Eventually.

Geno takes a seat at the table closest to Sid’s desk where he has perfect view of Sid’s profile.

He reads and takes notes in cyrillic on lined paper, totally absorbed in the world of paint colors and joists to reinforce the deck and how to raise a shower head a few inches, until he hears the crinkling of paper and looks up.

It’s easy to watch him lick cinnamon sugar off his fingers one day and brush off powdered sugar that’s fallen off the jelly donut and onto his jeans the next.

It’s even easier to just watch him.

The way his hair curls at the ends and around the collar of the button down he’s wearing. The way his forearms look when his sleeves are rolled up.

He bites his lower lip and clears his throat each time he reads fifteen pages.

He saves his smiles for the kids that come in and talks to them in the softest voice, asking them how they liked the book and if they want a sticker.

Sid is quiet and maybe a bit standoffish but he’s done nothing to warrant the warning that Jake gave him.

“You’re staring.”

Geno is jolted from his thoughts and focuses on Sid’s face instead of the thin silver chain that’s around his neck.

“You’re staring,” he repeats and Geno straightens his back and rolls his shoulders.

“Sorry. Was reading and just…..” He trails off and the flat press of Sid’s lips dip into a frown.

“Are you ever going to anything besides read? Like, actually get something done?”

Geno gasps in mock offense. It’s not enough to get Sid to smile but his frown isn’t so deep. “I fix things. Fix light bulb last night. Fix front door. Now it closes all the way.”

“Congratulations,” Sid says dryly as he stands up. He has a pile of books in his arms and sets them down at the corner of Geno’s table so he can line them up on a shelf marked YA. “Your focus should be on getting the roof done before the storms kick up over the summer. Definitely before winter.”

“You offering to help?”

Sid gives him a look over his shoulder then turns back around.

“I’m just saying, you might want to hurry up.”

“Have to read first. Have to learn. I take notes in Russian to help me remember, see.” He pushes his notebook towards him and Sid turns all the way around, leans his hands on the table, and tries to make sense of the writing in front of him.

His necklace slips free of the collar of his shirt and a smooth, black, stone pendant swings in the air.

“I didn’t even think about you needing books in Russian.”

Geno’s slow to look away from the necklace and Sid tucks it back beneath his shirt. He absentmindedly touches the chain around his own neck.

“English is fine, you know? It’s fine. Been here for long time and English is fine but it’s easier to understand in Russian. Writing it down helps me to remember. Copy down a lot of recipes from the cookbook I got. Now just have to make them.” Maybe you come over some time, he thinks but Sid’s already walking back to his desk and doesn’t say another thing until he says goodbye when Geno leaves for the night.

When he finally decides to start work on the house he circles around it, and the stack of lumber three times before he picks a clear starting point.

He hauls an old, aluminum ladder against the side of it and carefully climbs onto the roof.

It holds his weight and when he pulls the notes out of his pocket that tells him what to look for he’s pleased to find that it’s mostly in good shape.

There’s a spot by the chimney that’s going to need a little work and from up here and can see how badly the gutters need to cleaned but it could have been much worse.

He takes his time and does it right and he fixes the roof and the gutters and the shudder that bangs against the house in the wind and keeps him up at night.

He sands and restrains the hardwood floors throughout the house and a deep coffee color. He has to redo the stain in the living room when he realizes he’s boxed himself into the corner and won’t be able to get out without tracking footprints across the floor.

He doesn’t tell anyone that but he does text pictures to Tanger to show him the progress and holds the phone right in front of Sid’s face so he can show him the flowers that he planted beneath his bedroom window.

“You should have planted them after you put the new windows in and painted the house.They’re going to get trampled.”

“Just wanted things to look pretty, Sid. Aren't they pretty?”

Sid admits that, yes, they are, with a small smile that makes Geno feel like he's managed to build a mansion where his small cabin used to be.

It's tiring and laboring and day working on the house wears him out like a hard practice but when he pulls on his jeans one morning and finds them fitting them a little tighter in the waist than they were before he starts to jog.

He runs on the beach after dinner.

It’s only a mile out and back but he feels a little breathless halfway to his house.

He slows and bends over with his hands on his knees. The pain is constant but dull and he’ll need to take a couple of pain pills before bed or else he won’t be able to bend it at all.

When he stands up he scans the water thinking maybe he’ll see his creature out there, like he’s seen it every other night he’s looked.

It’s a daily occurrence. Part of his routine.

He only has to wait a handful of seconds before it bobs up above the waterline.

Geno stares at it and it stares back and when he raises his arm to waves at it, it disappears back beneath the water.

He sighs and shakes his head and when he looks down at his feet to will them to move him the rest of the way he sees a piece of seaglass buried in the sand.

It’s about the size of a quarter and brown, probably an old beer bottle, but when he holds it between his thumb and forefinger and raises it against the setting sun it the color changes to match the glow of Sid’s eyes.

He holds it tight in his palm as he walks back to the house.

In the morning he puts an iced coffee and a cannoli on Sid’s desk.

“Something else for you, too,” he says and Sid looks up. Geno holds his hand out over the desk then nods to Sid’s until he does the same, palm up beneath Geno’s.

Geno drops the glass into it and Sid closes his fingers around it.

“Find it on beach and thought of you,” Geno tells him, keeping the comparison to his eyes to himself. “You know, maybe add to your collection.”

“That’s….” Sid shakes his head and manages a small smile. “Thank you, Geno.”

“No problem. I find more and maybe I get my own jar,” he teases and turns towards the oversized chairs towards the back of the room. He wants to claim the good one, the one without the rip in the back of the cushion, but Sid’s voice makes him turn back around.

“Wait, I have something for you too. Just wait.”

He still has the glass in his hand when he ducks around the corner and Geno rocks up on his toes and back down again while he waits.

When he comes back he’s holding two books. The titles are written in Russian and he recognizes them as the cookbook and one of the woodworking books that Sid gave him in the first day.

“Sid.”

“They’re kind of hard to find, that’s why they took so long to get here. Shipping from Russia is just….and the website I ordered them from was all in Russian so I had to translate it. Really it’s amazing that they both got here and they’re the right books. They are right, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Sid, they’re-.”

“If you don’t like them-.”

“No, Sid,” he pulls the books close to his chest. “Love. You get these just for me?”

“For the library, technically. You can hold onto them for as long as you want to but if someone comes asking for them I’m going to need you to return them. But no one is town speaks Russian, as far as I know.”

“Thank you,” Geno says, at a loss to say anything else.

“Thank you for the glass.”

“Not a fair trade. I’m think of something else for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

He taps his finger against his temple. “I’m think.”

The good chair doesn't have a view of Sid but it's so comfortable that he only makes it a half chapter into his book before he falls asleep.

Late nights, hard work, and stress finally catching up to him.

The only reason he wakes up is because the book slides off his lap and hits the floor.

He blinks and doesn't recognize where he is until the book shelves come into focus.

The sky outside the window are a dusky pink and when he stumbles forward Sid’s sitting at his desk, idly turning the pages of a book.

“Late,” he says, voice thick with sleep and a heavy accent. “I fell asleep.”

“I know you did.”

“What time?”

“Almost seven thirty.”

“Sid. Library closes at five.”

“The doors have been locked. I had some extra work to do so….”

His desk is empty except for the book and the computer it off.

“Why didn't you wake me?”

“You seemed pretty out of it. You slept right through the Hannigan twins. Anyone who doesn't wake up when two toddlers come in must need the sleep.”

“Maybe you just forget I was there.”

“You snore. Not possible.”

“I do not.”

Sid simply raises an eyebrow and Geno huffs.

“You go home now,” he asks and when Sid nods he adds “I wait and walk with you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“No big deal. You let me sleep, I walk you home.”

“I'm pretty sure your place is first.”

“Then you walk me home.”

Sid shakes his head and turns off the light. “You're stubborn.”

“Not anymore than you.”

“I am not stubborn,” Sid says sharply and Geno laughs.

“Whatever you say, Sid.”

Sid flips the lights off and pushes him out the door.

Walking home with Sid with books tucked under his arms feels a bit like he should be in grade school walking his crush home after class.

Sid’s quiet, which is not surprising but Geno feels the need to fill the silence.

“You like to read.”

Sid looks over him with a surprised look on his face. It’s like he forgot he was walking next to him at all.

“You always have books on your desk. Always reading. Is it for fun or do you have a house you need to fix, too?”

Sid exhales and the breath tips up into a laugh at the end. “No, no, nothing like that. I like it. Sometimes things get a little slow and it passes the time. I like to learn.”

“What you study in school?” “I didn’t go.”

“Why? So smart.”

“It just.” He stops and shakes his head. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Could still go. Try again.”

“It’s kind of hard to leave the island,” he says and Geno gets that. This seems like the place people don’t ever really leave. They’re born, they live, they work, and they die right here. Businesses have been passed down through generations and plots of land have remained in the family for decades upon decades.

“Online classes then. Know some people who have taken them and they’re good. If you ever get the internet working here.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“No, it’s bad. What’s your favorite thing to read?”

“Biographies I guess. Humans are so fascinating, you know. Everyone is different. One person can find the cure to a devastating disease and save millions of people and another can build a bomb that can destroy a whole city. Reading about what made these people who they are is so interesting, you know?” Geno nods and is completely unprepared for Sid to keep talking.

He’s read books about presidents and dictators, scientists and athletes. But he’s also interested in learning how things are made. Cars and planes and how the industrial revolution changed the world.

Geno is happy to let him talk and Sid gets so into telling him about an article he read comparing the struggles of baby boomers and millenials that Geno has to pull him by the elbow down the path to his house.

“And every generation likes to judge the one that comes after them, that’s the way it’s always been but-.”

He stops when Geno puts a foot on the bottom step of the porch and it creaks, the sound ripping him from his explanation.

Geno thinks that if had fixed the step the day before Sid would have followed him right into the house.

“Oh.” He looks embarrassed when he finally takes in his surroundings. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Should talk more, you’re good at it.”

Sid raises his hand and rubs at the back of his neck. It seems like he’s done talking for the evening so Geno takes over.

“You know you’re nothing like what I thought you would be. I hear people talk, you know.”

He stops because maybe Sid doesn't know. Maybe it’s all behind his back.

“I know what people say about me.” He doesn't sound upset or sad. He’s matter of fact and that makes Geno’s heart hurt. “You don’t need to spare my feelings. People tend to avoid me. They think I’m….strange.”

“You’re not. You’re nice. Nice to kids. Help me a lot.”

“It’s my job.”

“You order books for me in Russian. You let me sleep. Walk me home. That’s not your job.”

“I got talked into that last one.”

“Still. We all a little strange sometimes, Sid.” He looks out over the water. “Want to know how I’m strange?”

Sid nods.

“I think something is in water.”

Sid whips his head towards the sea and Geno touches his arm.

“No, not now, I don’t see it right now. But first night I’m here I’m sitting on the steps and I look out and there it is. Is back every night.”

“What do you think it is?” His voice toes the line between curious and wary and Geno shrugs.

“Don’t know. Look like person but then I see tail.”

Sid tenses and Geno laughs.

“Crazy, I know. Other day I actually wave to it like it’s going to wave back.”

“Seals don’t wave back.”

“You think it’s a seal?”

“Seal, dolphin. Sometimes whales swim a little too close to shore and then make their way back out.”

“I see it every day at the same time. When it sees me looking it disappears.”

Sid looks out over the water. “I don’t see anything.”

“I know. Usually like clockwork.”

“Maybe it’s moved on.”

Geno hums. “Have picture.”

Sid’s hand darts out and smacks against Geno’s chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “What?”

“Yeah, yeah, here, I show.”

Geno gets his phone out of his pocket and Sid slowly uncurls his fingers.

Geno has to scroll through countless photos of the progress he’s made on the house and pretty pictures that he’s taken of the landscape that he’s sent to Tanger but when he finally finds the photo of the creature in the water he holds the phone out to Sid.

Sid steps up on the same step Geno is on and stands close, one shoulder wedged against Geno’s chest.

“See.” He waves the phone in front of his face and Sid grabs him by the wrist to steady it.

“That’s too blurry. You can’t see anything.” His voice is slightly hysterical and tinged with relief. “That could be anything.”

“No, look.” He touches his fingertip to the phone and traces the outline of the figure. “Head and shoulders.”

“That could be anything,” Sid repeats, “a piece of driftwood or a buoy.”

“It’s there every night. When it sees me looking it goes away.”

“That’s just a coincidence, Geno. It’s nothing.”

“I think is something.” He pockets his phone. “You have boat, right.”

“Almost everyone on the island has one.”

“Maybe you take me out,” Geno says lightly. “We go look for this thing.”

Sid shakes his head. “No.”

“C’mon, could be fun.”

“I said no,” Sid snaps. “I’m not doing that.”

Geno holds both hands up. “Okay. Alright. I’m sorry.”

The anger disappears from his face and his shoulders slump. “No,” he says again but the bite is gone from his voice. “I’m just….it’s.” He takes a deep breath and tries to regroup. “They told you I was weird about my boat, right?”

Geno nods.

“It’s hard to explain but-.”

“It’s okay, Sid. We all weird about something.” He has his secrets too. “Don’t have to explain.”

“There’s just no reason to go out there. It’s a seal, Geno. They’re down by the docks every morning.”

He seems tired, the sudden rush of emotion taking a lot out of him and Geno feels like he should back this down.

“Okay, Sid. I just think something in the water, you know, it’s interesting.”

“Yeah. Sorry to ruin that for you.”

“Is okay, Sid.”

They’re still standing very close on the steps and the setting sun is catching the curls at the crown of his head.

“You stay for dinner?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“I always make too much food and get sick of it and have to throw it out.”

“I shouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just-.”

“Don’t have to explain, Sid. If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” Sid says and he has to feel the way his heartbeat jumps. “I just shouldn’t.”

“Okay.” It’s breathier than he wants it to be but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Maybe some other time?”

“Maybe,” Sid says as he drops off the bottom step. “I should head home.”

Geno nods and watch Sid walk away for a moment before he calls to him and Sid turns when he hears his name.

“You really think it’s a seal?”

Sid nods, his mouth twisted into a crooked smile but it doesn’t match the look in his eyes.

“What else could it be?”

#mermaid au #anon fic #sidgeno #chapter 3 #author wants me to tell yall that there will most likely be 5 chapters!#6 if they decide to do a little epilogue

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yasuragi-hotaru · 7 years

Text

Uta Pri: 6th Stage Report Pt. 1

By now, it’s no surprise how deep into Maji Love Live hell I’ve fallen. So it didn’t take long for me to get into my head that I would, in one way or another, make it to the event in person one day.

The moment this post hit my dash, it made me think, “Man, I would hate to miss seeing that! I feel like that will definitely be a reality for 6th Stage. Wouldn’t it be cool to be there for it?”

“One day” could be a reality, if, with a little faith and a lot of hope, I tried.

GETTING TICKETS

Was by far one of the most exhausting things I’ve ever gone through. And that is saying a lot as I have been going to concerts, in local venues and arenas, rock and pop, both domestically and internationally, for 13 years now. Without a doubt, there is nothing, nothing like the process of getting tickets in Japan.

I researched extensively throughout the entirety of the ordeal reading up as much as I could (reference links later!) before I fully committed to take the plunge.

For 6th Stage specifically, there were 4 chances to get tickets:

5/27 Lottery w/code from Legend Star vol. 1 in January

5/28 Lottery w/code from Legend Star vol. 2 in February

5/27 + 5/28 Open Lotteries on eplus in early March

5/27 + 5/28 General Sale on eplus in Late March

As luck would have it, I went through each and every one of these before securing my ticket. That’s right, I lost out in all 4 lotteries and somehow, by the grace of God, scraped the bottom of the barrel to snag a rare ticket from the general sale. Now. I’m pretty sure this took years off of my life, so here’s some things I learned along the way for each entry point.

5/27 Lottery w/code from Legend Star vol. 1 in January

Purchased through CDJ, shipped as Registered Air Mail - this was definitely mistake #1. I barely got my package in time to send the proxy service my code for the entry period orz orz orz

I used a proxy service (Japan Concert Tickets) and they were incredibly helpful, professional, and upfront throughout the whole process!

I was overly optimistic here, totally thought it was a shoe in, NBD, so losing the first time stung pretty badly ngl

5/28 Lottery w/code from Legend Star vol. 2 in February

As soon as I received MLLS1, i immediately updated the shipping for this next order to EMS. I received my DVD the day of the release. Yay! 10/10 recommend this shipping option if you need something right away from CDJ.

Still worked with JCT as the proxy service, but obviously lost out on this one, too

5/27 + 5/28 Open Lotteries on eplus in early March

This was probably the most stressful of the lotteries. probably because of the finality of what losing on these lotteries meant. SIGH OTL HERE WE GO.

I worked with JCT to enter, too, and they were a little less patient with entering on my behalf vs. the previous two times. Probably because they were helping more people this time than with people who made the purchase to enter in Jan and Feb.

They sent their confirmation of entering the lottery the day before the entry period ended. Cue anxiety. Woof.

I found out afterward that I could have also entered myself (I made my own eplus account after the fact), but I didn’t. I mourned over this for a while once I lost out on these lotteries, too. Oh well.

When JCT sent the losing notification, it was a blanket BCC email saying due to the extremely low chances of winning tickets, they will not be offering lottery services for future Utapri shows, for the time being. So FYI for prospective MLL attendees. Otherwise, they were very very easy to work with, and i totally understand it’s not the best use of their resources. Alas, off to fend for myself. Onwards to the general sale!

5/27 + 5/28 General Sale on eplus in Late March

At this point, i was pretty defeated, ngl. Everywhere I read, everywhere said don’t even bother with the general sale because there’s no chance.

I, obviously, refused to believe this. I believed there was a chance, even if it was a sliver of a chance. But it wasn’t over yet. Despite myself, I kept the faith and stuck it out.

eplus does not recognize international credit cards, which is ANNOYING. As a work around, I set up my account to pay/pick up at Family Mart. I figured I could figure this payment part out if I got to it. SHRUG

I have NEVER used eplus before, so I tried to poke around to other ticket pages to get a feel for how the application process works.

Spoiler alert: the 6th stage ticket application was NOTHING like the other ticket pages I poked around on D:

I was really scared to have my browser translate the page to English in the event it messed with the loading time or cookies on the page. I tried to memorize the fields so I could at least have some muscle memory with the first page on what goes where.

At 12:00:01 JST, I refreshed the page. And eplus told me I lost my place because I had another eplus page open. I did. it was my member page bc i was checking randomly for something else.

r u srs.

I went to go back, and the site crashed.

wtf the fuq.

I spent the next few minutes compulsively refreshing the page. F5 F5 F5

by 12:07, I assumed that tickets were already sold out.

I still kept refreshing

by 12:10 i officially resigned i had no chance, ready to close the browser window

I still kept refreshing

Suddenly, the application page loaded with options

I started toggling between either day, as the page said tickets were available for both

the page kept loading

the entry fields continued to show up

i kept hitting enter

i frantically just kept trying combos

then finally….the next page loaded

i s h i t y o u n o t I blacked out. i straight up blacked out, i don’t remember what i thought, what i saw, what I did, WHATWASAIR, my mind just blanked because I DID NOT THINK I WOULD GET THIS FAR.

all i remember is that i just skimmed through the page, scrolled to the bottom and it was a blur of letters i didn’t recognize and then a big pink button.

i clicked it.

the next page just said application complete

???????????????????

what. that’s…..it? that’s it…..?!?!?!??! that seemed too easy. wasn’t I supposed to confirm my name for the ticket? what did I miss? WHAT WAS ON THIS MYSTERIOUS SECOND PAGE. I may never know.

By 12:30 i received an email from eplus with a Family Mart code and a message to redeem the ticket in 48 hours.

with the help from my friend, I was able to track back track the steps that led me to getting the confirmation code

thankfully, she was able to help facilitate the transaction in Japan, so by Monday afternoon my time, I got a note that my ticket was secured.

For a long time, NONE OF THIS FELT REAL.

General sale was, by far, one of the most INSANE experiences I have ever put myself through. I truly feel for all other fans who’ve tried and either succeeded or failed. It’s GRUELING. The eplus interface was not intuitive, the entire process was not user friendly at all, and if Japanese is not your first language, it is definitely a challenge.

However, if you are not weak of heart (or just downright stubborn like me), then I absolutely encourage you to try it anyway!!! I knew that this was my last chance and I am convinced getting my ticket was a fluke. I especially knew it, given how late I got in after the tickets went up for sale that I would be VERY VERY VERY FAR AWAY. But it didn’t matter.

Out of sheer dumb luck and blind determination.

was going

to Maji Love Live 6th Stage.

PINCH ME.

Things I referenced as my guide:

@aishiteruitsumo6‘s 5th stage reports

@otokogizenkaigofight‘s ask about 5th stage tickets

Bernie’s summary of Getting Concert Tickets in Japan (and overseas)

@sincerely-shine‘s How to Get Tickets to Seiyuu events

A Momokuro forum discussion page specifically for oversea fans

good ol’ Reddit

I would say, more or less, these posts definitely set the foundation of the beginning of the process, if you’re curious! (and a massive thank you to all of you, you have no idea how much all of your details helped me!)

(Continues on to Goods Line & Trading @ Sunshine CIty)

#maji love live #maji love live 6th stage #seiyuu #uta no prince sama #utapri #utapuri #yh reports #mll reports #AND SO IT BEGINS Y'ALL #i'm not joking i must've lost years from my life trying to get tickets to this goddamn event #just about 3 months of PAIN to try and get tickets #would i recommend it to everyone?#not at all #like seriously #if you don't like soul crushing rejection #then don't do this #would i do it all over again?#PROBABLY LOL OTL

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tentativelyteal · 7 years

Text

Idiot(s)

The electric shine of the earthy green and plain white hits him like a punch. Punch me in the face. He shakes the phantom voice off, and turns down the brightness of his screen. It is, after all, only a trick of his laptop, that blinding white - NO IT’S NOT! IT’S NOT OKAY! - that oh so familiar blinding cold white light in the laboratory in Baskerville -

No, I’m not there, John tells himself firmly, I’m here, in Baker Street. He looks up, and there, just where the lights still swimming just underneath his vision from his laptop and the soft glow stealing through the window from the dusk outside intermingle, sits Sherlock on the sofa, lanky knees right against his chest, eyes so rapidly scanning his computer on the coffee table that John wonders how he has not got a headache already. Well, at least he’s using his own laptop, for once. Purse his lips as he might, he still cannot quite stop the little smile that is forming, and even if he could, the softening of his eyes would just give it away at once. I’m here, and Sherlock is here, it’s all fine. That was why he chased away those phantom voices and images, because now is not two years ago, when - when. Now they are both here, living and breathing. Breathing the same air too, in fact.

Clearing his throat, John turns his gaze back on his blog, and finds his eyes immediately resting on ‘The Sign of Three’, bolded, underlined and in that earthy green theme-colour of his blog. The many little spears of exclamation marks keep jutting up, mocking him, as if they were thinking that if they succeeded in poking his eyes out, they could prove to him how blind he was. Well, that will not do as his latest post, because a post from when Sherlock had no one to play Cluedo with him is simply, wrong

That chapter is done. John clicks the little button saying “New Post”, also underlined and green, but John feels like this green could be a whiff from a pasture just after rain. Being poetic again are we, John?, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Sherlock teases, and John tells it half-heartedly to shut up. A big blank rectangle greets him after the page loads, the slender vertical line flashing innocently in the empty space for the title, a balm to sore eyes really. Still, balm or not, he stares at it blindly for a moment. Where can he start after all? It has been months, and every millisecond in it stretches whenever it pleases, tempo rubato, into aeons. Aeons packed with action and confusion and suspense, granted, but still.

The obvious thing first, then, John shrugs internally, his left forefinger pressing the Shift key while his right taps crisply on the B. Back to 221B appears in the title bar, bolded and bold, and just like that, these 10 letters and 2 spaces in between, with their next-to-nothing weight, tilts John’s ground by two-fifth of a degree - no, not back into a perfect horizontal line, because that would be boring wouldn’t it? Well, I’m never bored, he remembers himself said, to Mycroft, in this very living room. Good. That’s good, isn’t it? Oh, God, yes.

“What are you typing?” Sherlock’s voice rumbles across from the sofa.

“Blog.” John keeps tapping away, Yes, as some of you may have heard already, we’re both back to 221B Baker Street. Solving crimes - well Sherlock solving crimes, and me blogging about them, which is what I’m doing rig-

“About?” The detective smirks just the slightest, but John is not sure if he is just about to make fun of his writing, again, or if, like him, he is remembering a very similar conversation.

“You.” John decides to play along anyway. A few seconds pass in silence, during which John feels the intensity of Sherlock’s gaze on the side of his face. He does not look up, because he does not look up the moment Sherlock looks at him and whenever Sherlock looks at him. He simply does not. Well, at least he has to finish this paragraph first. -ht now. But on the first day I moved back, no sooner had I swung my bags onto my bed - still made up and all that, which was amazing, and no doubt the credits must go to Mrs. Hudson - the bell rang. So we were thrown right back into the chase. Well, I couldn’t have asked for a better “welcome h-

“You mean us.” At this, John does look up sharply. So much for at least finishing this paragraph. But Sherlock has already glued his eyes back into whatever research he is in the middle of, as if he hadn’t just said something truly remarkable. Because it is, remarkable.

“Yes, if you say so.” John is careful to keep his tone light, offering an out for Sherlock to drop the conversation if he so wants. “I know so. And so do you, so stop being obtuse on purpose.”

Ha, trust Sherlock to flatter and insult with the same line. “Okay, us then.” And the air eases, because they have never needed many words to be on the same page.

“So glad that we have finally come to an understanding,” the detective must have intended it to come out dripping with sarcasm, but the signal must have been rerouted during transmission. That has been happening more often lately, John duly notes. He supposes that he should take this as progress, instead of the unattainable hope that Sherlock will leave their poor fridge alone. Truth be told, though, John would not have their fridge any other way. “Now, if you would not miss your blog too much for a couple of hours - dinner?”

The blogger jumps out of his reverie, “oh, starving. Where?” Sherlock snaps his computer shut and rises, already looking to his Belstaff, “Angelo’s?” John nods, getting up from his armchair while the other man is putting on his scarf. And soon, two silhouettes, one tall, taking advantage of a good coat and a short friend, and one short, the said short friend, are seen walking down Baker Street.

Angelo, as always, is pleased to see his two favourite patrons, and quickly ushers them to their usual table by the window, “now, just give me a second to get the candle. More romantic,” he winks at John as they settle.

Having taken his coat off and hung it on his chair, John turns back to face Sherlock, who is studying him. “What?”

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow, “you’ve stopped correcting him.”

“Well, what’s the point,” John shrugs, “he keeps bringing them anyway. Might as well save my breath.”

Sherlock looks at him more closely, like he is now the case he must solve, “in fact, you stopped correcting everyone quite some time ago. To be precise, just before Henry Knight’s case, or “The Hounds of Baskerville”, as you call it.“

Surprised, John mirrors him in arching his eyebrows as well, "so, you’ve noticed?” Sherlock merely rolls his eyes, “of course.” Just at this moment, Angelo arrives with the candle, the flickering flame casts Sherlock’s face into sharp relief, and the warm yellow balances his silvery-ice eyes into almost transparency. John clears his throat, looking down at his napkin, echoes, “of course. You notice everything.”

The detective chuckles, and John could swear the table, even with the thick layer of fine linen cloth soaking up most of the sonic waves, trembles. “Not everything,” a teasing note underlying it, “as you so outrageously broadcast to the whole of London, what’s incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things. This morning, for example, he asked me who the Prime Minister was. Last week he seemed to genuinely not know the Earth goes round the Sun.”

Their dishes, along with the red wine, arrive and break up the back-and-forth tennis match of teasing each other, like how a lighthouse breaks the tides. But the tides will just keep coming, of course. John takes a bite of his aubergine rolls, and says, a bit muffled, “are you ever going to let that go?”

Sherlock grins, “never.” And John shakes his head, amused, “I’m going to finish my post tonight, probably with, ‘I wrote once, that what was incredible was how Sherlock seemed to genuinely not know the Earth goes round the Sun. But what’s truly confounding, is that he seems to be able to recite every word of my b-’ Seriously though, why on earth have you memorised my blog?” He huffs an incredulous laugh, but Sherlock just looks at him.

And Sherlock just keeps looking at him. John is instantly reminded of that time when he asked Sherlock to be his best man. This is getting a bit scary now, he said as he waited for Sherlock to come to terms with the fact that yes, he is apparently his best friend. How? How could he not know that? The part of his brain that has decided to go down that memory lane still asks. But now, it seems that the table has turned, and he is the one who is not seeing where the penny has dropped. “Do you really have to ask, John?” Sherlock is still looking at him, like he thinks he is the most adorable idiot who has ever lived on Earth. He knows you’re an idiot, but that’s okay, because you’re a lovely doctor, Mrs. Hudson's voice nudges him, distantly, and - oh. Oh. Somewhere, John feels like, somewhere, there should be a choir singing, and fireworks blossoming overhead at this moment of revelation, like how they always have in some soap operas on telly. The soap operas Sherlock so despises, and frankly, John is not particularly in favour of them either. So, there is none here. Instead, he takes another bite of his aubergine rolls, “well, I’m an idiot, as you so often say, so humour me.” Sherlock rolls his eyes at him, again, and steals his broccoli.

#sherlock #john #fanfiction #fluff #idiot #idiots #it is what it is #angelo's #blog #221b #baker street

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