i don't know who to be more jealous of: a story by me

On Hiveswap

I think it’s very important that Joey was sent to Xefros and Dammek was sent to Jude.

It’s been stated a few times that Joey was bullied by the others at school and never really had any friends. She sees that same thing in Xefros- except his only friend is the Billy that hurts him. Xefros is probably Dammek’s only friend as well.

Likewise, Jude is stated to have a clique of friends that allow Joey to hang with them. Joey’s shown to even be a bit jealous of them. Jude’s success in healthy relationships, and just how supportive he is, will be important in his interactions with Dammek- showing him how friendships and healthy relationships are, and even making him realize how shitty he’s been to Xefros.

Because in the end, Dammek is a protagonist in a 10+ game. This won’t end awfully- at least, I’m hoping not. I think Xefros and Dammek’s relationship is going to be repaired, along with Jude and Joey’s.

On the flip side, the trolls are important to Jude and Joey’s development too.

Joey’s shown to be jealous of not only Jude’s friendships, but Jude’s confidence as well. She’s been partnered up with a troll who has VERY little confidence in himself, making it so that she has to be the one to step up and lead, while also helping Xefros grow to be more independent and confident. Having a friend and more confidence in herself will help amend Joey’s relationship with Jude.

Jude’s paranoia over his conspiracies is shown to get on Joey’s nerves. He may have been right this time, but this behavior can still be harmful towards Jude and his relationships with others in the future. But, if Jude’s paranoid, then I don’t even know how to describe Dammek. Dammek’s paranoia-inspired cruelty will show Jude the worst parts of his behavior, and will help him learn to trust others besides himself and his sister, letting him open himself up to reparations.


Homestuck has always dealt with dysfunctional relationships- on both sides of them, and how people’s behaviors can create these situations and obscure them. This is a new iteration of that- this will be a story of change for the better.

I believe Spencer’s twin is coming.

In this post I want to give a list of reasons why Twincer is my prime suspect as AD. I know a lot of these ‘clues’ come from interviews, but they’re still really convincing for me at least. I’ve definitely missed some of the clues from within the show because they’re not as easy to spot - we need to know for sure if Twincer is happening, then we can dig further. (The fun won’t instantly stop once the finale airs.) But for now, enjoy these, and at the end, I give my theory as to the motive.

Please note: none of this is overly new. This is just the summation of everything we’ve been talking about on my blog for the past couple months. I wanted to put all the ideas into one post, rather than 31529 mini posts scattered here and there. I will be updating this as we find more. 

  1. The famous airport scene from 715.
    We all already think it’s weird that "Spencer" asked Ezra to not tell anyone he saw her there with Wren. What’s weirder, is the fact that Wren and “Spencer” were arguing. Amongst muffle, I heard Spencer say "stop calling me that" (let me know if you heard differently). Did Wren have a slip-of-the-tongue moment and call her Spencer rather than the twin’s real name?
  2. Dr. Cochran’s story is very telling.
    We all already know the ambiguous implication that Mary had more than two babies, because Dr. Cochran said he dealt with “two of Mary’s babies”. What’s more interesting is the second baby he dealt with. The first baby (Charlotte) he gave to Jessica. He said that the second baby that he delivered was placed in family county services. This could not have been Spencer, since Spencer was delivered to Veronica within 5 minutes of birth. So, who was that second baby that was placed in family services? I believe it was Spencer’s twin. Why? Dr Cochran referred to that second baby as “underweight but tenacious” - lo and behold, the next episode, Toby calls Spencer tenacious. This was the writers foreshadowing the similarities between this second baby, and Spencer. Twins. 
  3. We all know Hanna’s ‘dream’ in 701.
    It makes no sense that Hanna was able to dream ‘Spencer’ saying the name A.D. since Hanna was kidnapped before these initials were even revealed. Perhaps Hanna was visited by Twincer; the one holding her captive.
  4. A.D. needs to stand for something. 
    Spencer’s twin could literally have the initials A.D., since we know she would be Mary Drake’s child. Her first name would start with A and the D would stand for Drake. 
  5. Brendan and Ian both confessed to being confused by the identity of A.D.
    They needed the backstory to understand it. Is that because they had no idea who has the name “Alex Drake” (for example) ?
  6. Tyler said before 7B aired that “you’ve never met AD. You kind of have. You’ll know what I mean”.
    This can be interpreted in two ways: you’ve never met Twincer but since you know Spencer, you kind of know who AD is. Or. You’ve seen Twincer over the years, but thought it was Spencer. Either way, Tyler’s comment screams twin-theory to me. This could apply to any twin theory, but in this context, I’m using it for Spencer.
  7. Ian said (0:57) that “fans will be satisfied to a point. Right when it seems it’s gonna be really great, it might do a little [downwards hand motion]”….
    That cheeky smile on Ian’s face when he said “it seems it’s gonna be really great”… what could be greater than a liar being AD? Ian could be referring to the fact that they initially show us Troian under the hoodie, making us think Spencer is AD. Then, after commercial break, they will reveal it’s just her twin, hence the “it might do a little [downwards hand motion]”. We will be satisfied to a point, he said. It’ll start off amazing by thinking it’s Spencer, oh wait, it’s another twin.
  8. Ashley said (0:14) that she didn’t even know the A.D. reveal is possible.
    Because she did not expect a second pair of twins to come along?
  9. “It’s like there are two of you living in this house. You, and you’re evil twin, and we’re not sure who’s coming down to breakfast". 
    said Veronica to Spencer in 423. Foreshadowing at it’s finest.
  10. Spencer doesn’t remember this flashback.
    Was it her twin? And oh how coincidental, that the writers tell us a time Spencer doesn’t remember, in the same scene Veronica makes the above comment about Spencer’s “evil twin”.
  11. “Where are they?”
    said Mary as she entered the Hastings house (flashback from 717). Who is they? The twins? She proceeded to say that Spencer is the only good thing she’s ever made. Maybe Mary knows Spencer’s twin is evil, and is neglecting her. 
  12. “You look very much like your sister. Almost like twins”.
    said Mary to Spencer in 701. The writers wanted us to think that Mary was talking about Spencer and Melissa, since Mary was holding a picture of the half-sisters. But, were the writers, and therefore Mary, hinting towards Twincer? Is Mary being blackmailed/forced (by Peter?) to keep quiet on Twincer, and she had a slip-of-the-tongue moment here?
  13. Marlene is very aware of the Twincer theories.
    Back in 2014 she said that Troian sent her an online fan theory regarding Spencer having a twin who is A. Marlene was blown away by it and she thought it was a very well thought out plan with detailed evidence across the series. Watch from 1:35. Whilst you may be saying “there’s NO WAY Marlene spoilt her own show’s ending in an interview!!” - I feel like she had no idea the show would go on for 7 seasons, and once they got renewed, she panicked. “Shit, we need a new Uber A. Let’s go with that brilliant fan theory Troian sent me”. She probably regrets making this interview now. You can tell her passion for Twincer in this interview. She talks so damn highly of it.
  14. Marlene has said that the person who plays A.D. had known for a while.
    We know that Marlene told Troian the entire ending of the show years in advance. “Just like I had story time with Marlene, you all now get story time with Pretty Little Liars” said Troian.
  15. The girl in the coffin in the opening has the exact same black puffy shirt as Spencer.
  16. Why does it seem that A.D. is always going after the Hastings?
    Why shoot Spencer, out of all the liars? Why demand Aria to plant the audio device in the Hastings? Why not ruin the Marin household? The jealous twin wants her ungrateful sister dead, hence the shooting, and the jealous daughter is angry she never got adopted. Too much of the story is Hastings-oriented. 
  17. “They’re all some pretty. Good. Theories.”
    Was Janel’s response to being asked about the Spencer-twin theories. (22:20)
  18. And, I’ll just leave this here. Good one @prettylittlesessions​ !
  19. “Spencer’s” weird comments in 718.
    In 718 “Spencer” says to Toby “you know what its like to be the outsider. Removed from friends and family”. What made her say this? Nothing was said or done in 718 to prompt our Spencer to say this. 
  20. Keegan said there are no more Spoby kisses in 7B.
    “I can honestly say that there is not another Spoby kiss.” Yet - there was one in 718. Either Keegan lied, or that was Spencer’s twin. (10:15)
  21. “It’s somebody you have seen.”
    says Marlene in regards to who AD is. Was she talking about the Spoby kiss in 710, which Twincer referred to in 718 when she kissed Toby again? Marlene was very careful to avoid saying “it’s someone you KNOW”. We don't “know” Twincer. But, we have seen her.
  22. “That’s not the Spencer I know”
    said Toby in 718. Writers are foreshadowing.

Setting all this aside, I want to add my theory on the backstory and motive:

  • Twincer, who’s name is A_____ Drake, was born in Radley, as Dr. Cochran told us in 7A. 
  • Twincer was raised in Radley - not because she needed to be at a psychological hospital, but as a form of daycare, because Mary was deemed an unfit mother, and also she kept Twincer a secret from Peter… he already hated her (to the point of planning her murder, later on) enough for having one baby together, imagine Peter’s reaction to having twins.
  • There, Twincer met and bonded with her sister Charlotte. Charlotte became Twincer’s only friend. (Twincer might even be Bethany, since we already know of this bond between Bethany and Charlotte, and how Bethany was drawing Charles being taken away by a monster. But for this theory, let’s just forget Bethany for a second.)
  • When Mona came to Radley and started telling Charlotte about everything she did to her sister, Charlotte and Twincer wanted to play. They wanted a turn at harassing Spencer and her friends.
  • For Charlotte, as we know, it was the feeling of finally succeeding at something in life that made the game her drug. For Twincer, it was something far darker.
  • Harassing Aria, Hanna, Emily and Alison is all about driving a wedge between the girls. Twincer wants to break up the girls. Turn them against each other. Hopefully by throwing fire at the girls, they will break up, ultimately, to ruin Spencer’s life. Again, jealousy. Twincer’s plan is backfiring because it’s exactly A’s threats that makes Spencer say “we need each other more than ever” and “always stick together”. The writers keep making the point of SPENCER being the one to make the comments about “always” sticking together. Twincer cannot break Spencer and her bitches. This is fueling Twincer’s anger. Nothing is working.
  • That’s why AD/Twincer recently shot Spencer. “If I can’t break the girls up to ruin Spencer’s life, why not just become Spencer?” Twincer shot Spencer in an attempt to assume her identity and squeeze her way into the loving friendship group that she could never crack. “These girls are so loyal to each other… they don’t even break up after even my threats. Damn, I want to be a part of this. It’s my turn to live a happy life. You had your turn Spencer.”
  • Note: I do not believe that AD has been operating since season 1. Mona’s time as A is completely independent from Charlotte and Twincer’s story. Mona started the game, and now someone is ending it, and she wants to know who. Charlotte and Twincer are their own duo; their own A-team, which stemmed as a result of Mona coming to Radley. Charlotte revealed herself - next up in the A team is Twincer, who is carrying on the game she once played with her sister. 
I Don't Wanna Live Forever [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: no
Summary: Your family takes an annual trip to the mountains with the Murphy family every year to unwind over the winter break–that being said, Connor Murphy isn’t the sweet kid he used to be, and you’d rather be anywhere else than sharing a room with him for two weeks. However, between your parents, a line of accidents, and a mapless trip in the woods seem determined to bring you together–if you can make it out alive.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of drugs, abuse, alcohol, panic attacks, sex trafficking, sex, blood, hospitals | First person reader | face paced/vignette style | not proof read | tenses may change
A/N: Here’s that long ass thing I’ve been working on for weeks and just finished a few minutes ago, ayy. Based entirely off the “Connor hated skiing” line. This is long af with no read more option, sorry :/ Here we go! (THANKS FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS ♡♡♡)


Connor Murphy was a lot of things.

He was stubborn–I’d never seen him admit he was wrong, but I’d definitely seen him throw scrabble pieces across the wooden floor of the cabin, leaving Zoe to scramble red-faced to collect them as he stomped up the oak steps to his room, echoing around the house.

He was annoying–I’d told him once I wasn’t crazy about Iron Maiden, which resulted in the album being on blast for the entirety of the time he drove Zoe and I around the mall in the family’s silver minivan.

He was stoic. He was impatient. He was angry.

I’d begged my parents not to go cabins for winter break. I’d begged them to pick a different mountain range if we were so dead set on skiing. But Mr. Murphy and my mother were business associates, and the last thing she wanted to do was make them feel like we were no longer on good terms–especially because of Connor.

“Larry’s been having an awfully hard time with Connor, sweetheart, you have to understand,” my mother crooned in our rental car, fixing her lip liner as she drove, my father keeping a white knuckled grip on the Jesus handle above his head. “He’s not doing very well in school and he’s been throwing tantrums at home. Poor Cynthia is at her wits end. They’re lucky to have that sweet Zoe, she’s so talented and smart. Poor Connor is jealous and acting out, just try not to rally him up, alright, dear?”

I didn’t dignify her with a response, mostly because I knew she wouldn’t like what I had to say anyway, but also because I knew she wouldn’t care to listen, either. I sighed loudly, watching the snow flurry softly outside the window. It wasn’t fair–here I was in the middle of something so remarkably beautiful, and I’d be shoved in a minivan with the Murphy kids and stuck in the valley town’s 1970s mall with crappy t-shirts and a vape store that Connor would spend all day in.

The cabin was huge, up with a view of the town below, nearly three stories made of solid, stripped oak, in the middle of a winding road with a four percent grade. Half the cabin was supported on beams which plummeted down the mountain face. I’d be lucky to stand on the deck without vomiting, let alone being able to venture into the hot tub.

The Murphy’s minivan was already in the drive, trunk shut, meaning they’d unpacked and I’d be left with whatever miniscule space they’d left for me in the loft area.

“Remember to be nice, sweetheart,” my mother crooned again, fluffing her hair in the mirror and giving me an enthusiastic smile in the rearview. “It’s important! They’re practically family.”

Geez, I was lucky to not have Connor Murphy for a cousin.

Slinging my backpack over my arm and exiting the rental car, I took the liberty to stretch, despite the cold air that stung my cheeks and the snow that fluttered down into my hair. This may very well be the last moment of solitude I had for the entirety of the week, and I was going to revel in it.

A movement caught my eye, suddenly, and I lowered myself off my tiptoes to glance up at the second story window–a curtain fluttered shut. It was most likely Zoe or Connor checking out the commotion that was my father and mother bickering over who carried what into the house, and shutting it once they’d realized I caught them. Feeling vaguely uneasy, I turned just as Larry Murphy, bundled in a parka, burst out of the house to take two suitcases from my father.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

——

Cynthia Murphy made me stand by the kitchen counter as she was stocking the cabinet with neon colored cardboard boxes containing various sugary, pink cereals with marshmallows and prizes inside. The Murphy kids were both picky eaters, I remembered quickly, Connor more so than Zoe.

Mrs. Murphy kept playing with my hair, crowing about how much longer it looked (despite the fact I’d cut it since the last time I’d seen her) and how pretty and grown up I’d become, asking me the usually annoying adult questions (“Any thoughts on schools yet? Oh, Connor can’t decide either! Do you know what you’re going to major in? That’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon!”) It would’ve been annoying, I decided, if and only if she didn’t look so sad all the time, the purple bruising under her eyes visible still underneath the layers of makeup. My mother could say whatever she liked about Cynthia Murphy where her wifely duties were concerned–Mrs. Murphy tried to be a good mother (re: tried, period), and that was more than enough to pass her in my book.

In the background, my parents were settling into the second master bedroom, Larry Murphy yelling at the bottom of the stairs to announce our arrival. I could do without the annual reunion, awkward questions about school. The Murphy kids were tolerable–Zoe definitely more so–but it didn’t mean they had to force us together so artificially.

Zoe skimpered down the stairs first, her soft moccasin boots barely making any sound on the stairs–I was surprised to find her long legs bare, her thighs peeking out beneath a pretty pink chiffon dress, covered by what I hoped to be a faux fur parka. Her pretty auburn hair was curled, pulled back with a polka dot headband I could recognize from her childhood. She was wearing eyeliner, and cotton candy flavored lip gloss I remembered sharing when we were thirteen.

It was such a stark contrast from how I remembered her before. The last I’d seen her she’d been gawky and fifteen with a mouth full of metal and a bra full of kleenex. She was practically grown now, and beautiful–it made me feel slightly subpar in my own blue jeans and blue sweater. Regardless, she smiled brightly and skipped over to me, opening her arms to wrap them around my neck.

“It’s so good to see you!” She exclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek that shocked me, as well as some others–Larry Murphy’s horrified expression was priceless, and I was convinced Connor put her up to it–but I just laughed and hugged her tightly before letting her go.

“You look so pretty,” I told her with a wry grin, and she just tossed the expression back, nodding with a, “So do you!”

“It’s so good to see you girls are still so close,” my mother tittered, beginning to uncork a glass of wine–we didn’t drink much at my house, but the Murphy’s, I knew, did, and my mother certainly wasn’t going to let that go to waste. “Where’s that sweet boy of yours?”

Larry Murphy at the bottom of the stairs, banging on the oak walls, yelling out, “Connor!” was enough to make both the Murphy women flinch visibly. Zoe still had her arm around my waist as we stared up at the ceiling above us, waiting for the squeak of sneakers on the polished wood.

“Don’t yell.”

Zoe jumped away from me as if she’d been burned, pressing herself against the countertop as if to make herself invisible. Mrs. Murphy, her hand clutched to her chest after the initial nose, fought hard to smile believably. I, myself, had jumped at the unexpected sound–Connor Murphy’s curt tenor clear across the room, no where near the stairs, instead standing the doorway were we had just come from. I couldn't  quite make out his frame from here–there was a line of bodies blocking my view, my parents, Mrs. Murphy, and Zoe all formed a human barrier that constructed the divide between Connor and I. Fine by me.

“There you are!” Mrs. Murphy chirped, clearly still nervous, visibly by her shaking voice and hands, fluffing her hair to give her something to do. “You didn’t miss much, Connor, they’ve just arrived.”

My mother said something unintelligent in way of greeting, to which Conner didn’t reply, just shut the door carefully behind him to keep out the cold air. I couldn’t see his face from here, but I could make out that he was much too still for a teenage boy, much too quiet.

“–You remember her, don’t you, Connor?”

My throat closed up as the Red Sea parted, everyone’s heads turning to look between the two of us.

He didn’t move from the doormat–boots  caked in snow, as if he’d gone for a walk, and the bottoms of his skinny jeans were muddy and slick looking. Still, he didn’t shiver, which was slightly unnerving. He was skinnier than I remembered, like he hadn’t been eating, and his face was all angles. He slouched, his pink mouth which was mottled red from the cold was set in a heavy frown. His eyes, which were scanning somewhere around my waist and hadn’t come anywhere near making eye contact since he’d seen me, had blown pupils. Drugs. He was doing drugs in the middle of the afternoon.

He hadn’t cut his hair since I’d seen him last, brown curls poking out of the bottom of a black sock toboggan with a soft pompom on top. It could’ve been funny, I supposed, his rough puberty finishing to leave him left over with this, something akin to a drugged out vogue model who listened to way too much 2008 Fall Out Boy, if he didn’t seem so…unnervingly somber for someone who clearly wasn’t sober. Geez, this kid was a school shooter in the making.

I glanced back up to find him finally staring at my face, shooting an uncomfortable alertness down my spine. His eyebrows were crooked in vague amusement that didn’t seem to reach his mouth, and I felt my face heat up under his scrutiny. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t scared of boys like him.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he grinned mirthlessly, stuffing his hands into the gut pocket of his hoodie, giving me a nod that, while meant to appease our parents, also felt like a vague threat. I didn’t smile back.

“Great! Wanna show her the room?”

Connor grinned crookedly. “Follow me, kid.”

——

The upstairs layout was just like I remembered  it–Two rooms, one main one in the first entrance with a king bed tucked in the corner, a TV and a few gaming systems with some furniture in the front, a bathroom with two doors which lead through to the other room, which held the fold out couch and television I was accustomed to using.

The Murphy kids already had their belongs strewn about the room–Zoe’s stuff animals and princess blankets eclipsing most of the bed and an ancient Nintendo DS on the table with SpongeBob stickers on the cover that I’m sure belonged to Connor–and it left me very little room to maneuver through.

Connor was silent as he lead me up, as if I didn’t know the way, but surprised me by stopping in front of the king bed, holding out his arms to signal me.

“Your room, my lady.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “This–this is your bed.”

“Not this year. Dad’s decided it’s a little too Flowers In the Attic for Zoe and I to share a bed this year–I’m on the pull out and you girls get to have your fun.” He shot me a bitter smile to let me know he wasn’t thrilled about having the pull-out–he shouldn’t be, the thing was total garbage–but surely he’d enjoy the privacy of it?

“I don’t care to take the pull-out,” I told him, keeping my bag on my shoulder despite the fact it was beginning to be painfully heavy. “If you wanna–”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said, already turning toward the bathroom to walk to his half of the loft. “The bed’s yours.”

——

So, Connor Murphy had turned out to be a total dick. It should’ve unsurprising information, I knew, but part of me still remembered him as a charismatic kid I was, at one point, friends with. Back when the three of us all slept in the king bed, before any of us ever had a zit, when we’d fall asleep in the floor watching early 1990s Pokémon episodes, because Larry Murphy didn’t like them watching it.

Even the Connor I remembered at fourteen, gangly and silent and shy with close-cropped hair felt better than this. I was past uncomfortable, sitting stiffly between he and Zoe on one of the couches in the living room. There was a faux fur blanket hanging behind us, shedding hairs onto Connor’s black jacket, which would’ve been funny if he wasn’t picking at his nails with a slightly rusted pocket knife–I notice he’d painted them, which I oddly admired. I’d kissed a boy earlier this year who painted his nails, and his palms were always soft when he’d reach up to cup my cheeks. It softened Connor in my head, just slightly.

He was careful, I saw, to stay on his side of the couch, leaning into the apex of the arm and the back of the couch rather  than flush with me, his thin legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle to avoid me. I appreciated it, but it didn’t stop me from leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, sitting on the edge of the cushion. I could still feel warmth radiating from him–it was late, and I was tired with a full stomach. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall right into him, and he’d never let me live that down.

Zoe practically was asleep, leaning forward as well with her head on my shoulder. Cynthia had let her have nearly two glasses of wine at dinner–not enough to get her drunk, but it didn’t change the fact Zoe was still lithe and young, and easily tipsy.

We’d all gone into town for a very awkward dinner–I was just thankful to be placed between my father and Zoe, in a position on the opposite end of the table from Connor, who was stuck in between Larry and Cynthia, looking as if he were in a permanent time out.

Now we were gathered around the coffee table in the cabin, the seven of us hunched over a tiny photo album that I couldn’t really make out from here. There were fuzzy polaroids of us as children, looking nothing like we did now. Connor and I at six, soaked from romping in a sprinkler. Zoe and Connor sharing a chocolate icecream cone, their faces covered in the brown spatter.

“You were all so small,” Mrs. Murphy crowed with a choked voice, covering half her face with her hand in a faux attempt to eclipse the emotion. “Oh, I miss it. You kids used to spend so much time together! Now we only get together for break, and Zoe is so busy there’s hardly enough time for her to spend quality time with her sweet brother.”

Zoe snorted loudly, earning a glare from Mr. Murphy I was positive I wasn’t supposed to see. I snuck a glance at Connor, whose face betrayed no emotion, just staring blankly ahead in the direction of the album. From his position, I was positive he couldn’t see more than the chipped leather cover of the book. Even if he leaned forward, he wouldn’t have been able to see much.

My mother and Mrs. Murphy went out in loud voices in a seamless attempt to pretend the seemingly secret interaction had taken place, so, while the focus was shifted, I turned my attention to Connor.

He didn’t cock an eyebrow this time when he caught me staring, instead just furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me, as if he expected me to speak.

“Can you see?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the book.

“I’m fine,” he said immediately–vaguely irritating, I’d admit, but nonetheless understandable. I was sure Cynthia Murphy had spent most of her life making sure Connor was comfortable at all times. Still, this was my olive branch, in an attempt to make this trip a little more tolerable, and Zoe seemed less than likely to console her brother at this point.

“We can change seats, I’m not really looking,” I promised, sitting forward more in my seat to show that I was ready to make the change.

“I’m fi–”

Connor was cut off by a squeal from his mother, who had tossed the book into our laps. It had taken a great deal of squinting, letting my heartbeat slow before I realized she’d been showing us something and not trying to kill some giant bug between us.

The polaroid was grainy, an ivory hue that whitewashed the photo and the years of existence made the picture hard to decipher at first, especially when we were so tired. The time stamp was from the late nineties, glowing yellow in the corner of the frame. I recognized the gilded tub from upstairs that dominated half the bathroom, big enough for three adults easily.

Connor threw to book onto my lap first, like it had scalded him. I should’ve done the same, but it took me a moment. To see, to adjust, to read and understand what was so socially condemning about the photo.

It was Connor, I realized first, small and tanned with bony ribs and chunky fingers and the apples of his cheeks straining against his baby skin. His hair was cropped so short, it looked almost silly. Beside him was me, my hair wild and tangled, curled as if my mother had teased it for dinner. My wide eyes were blazing, much too big for my face, and I was grinning with wet lips at the camera.

We were in the tub, surrounded by big pink bubbles.

We were very, very naked.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal–not really, unless you counted the fact that if this had been printed, our parents would be arrested for child porn. I was mostly covered, sitting beside Connor, my shoulders hunched forward. But Connor was standing, meaning the camera got a very decent view of–

“What the fuck, Mom!” He screaming, standing and ripping the book off my lap. Cynthia’s tittering died immediately, the hands covering her laughed instead covered her horrified face.

This was how it started, I realized.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he growled, tossing the book across the room, banging against the wooden wall with a heavy whomp.  

“That’s enough, Connor,” Larry Murphy growled low in his throat. Cynthia’s head was downcast, her eyes wide and wet. I recognized the emotion immediately–she shut down with conflict the same way Connor did.

“You don’t get to laugh at me for shits and giggles this whole trip,” Connor said, already lunging up the stairs, his hands shaking. “If I wanted to feel shitty, I’d have a conversation with you.”

So much for having a quiet trip.
——
Zoe wasn’t quiet in her gossip about Connor–his door was fashioned shut, I saw, and I doubt he’d come out for the rest of the night. I was positive he could hear his sister’s loud comments from our room.

“Sorry, he’s such an ass,” Zoe groaned, stretching on the bed, her little lilac nightgown shifting across her thighs. “I think his high is wearing off or something–don’t let it bug you. You don’t have to be nice to him, by the way. I’m not gonna let him hurt you.”

I shrugged, noncommittal. “We were friends once. I’m not gonna be mean, he’s never done anything to me.”

Zoe snorted. “You didn’t just see that? He’s a monster, and it gets worse.”

“He just has a temper. Everyone gets like that sometimes.”

I wasn’t sure why I was defending Connor–half because I didn’t want Zoe to tell Connor I disliked him, then he’d actively terrorize me–half because I had no idea why Connor Murphy was so pissed off. It was just a picture. Yeah, embarrassing, I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled about eighteen year old Connor Murphy seeing my nipples, and I’ll admit he definitely had the worst end of the stick.

“He loses his shit like that all the time,” Zoe said. “It’s not just a temper.”

“He’s your brother, Zoe,” I reminded gently, brushing out my hair in the bathroom mirror. “Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“He’s no brother of mine,” she whispered, rolling over on the bed and clicking off the light.

——

The next few days passed as the usually did–the adults going places without us, albeit romantic and boring, and leaving the three of us to wander about the town below the mountain crests. It was Zoe’s turn to pick the day’s activity, and she’d chosen the mall.

The place was all dark oak, and hadn’t been remodeled since the late seventies at the earliest. Zoe was chipper, balancing a bag of organic soap and bath bombs on her lap that she’d bought at a local shop, pouring over the cheese fries between us on a plastic red tray.

Connor had also been well-behaved since his outburst several days ago, albeit quiet. He’d separated from us the second we’d arrived, holed out in some record store. Zoe was thrilled to be rid of him, and very vocal about it. I was bored out of my mind.

“Don’t look now,” Zoe said brightly, despite her face suddenly shifting into a mask of disinterest. She bit down on her lip, covered in a pink glitter lipgloss she’d applied much too liberally, and pulled on her pretty auburn braid. “There’s some boys two tables behind us checking you out.”

I felt my face get hot. “You’re lying.”

“Nuh-uh,” Zoe said, leaning into take a sip of her milkshake, biting down on the straw–the look on her face told me she’d got their attention.

“How old are they?” I hissed. The last thing we needed were some creeps following us around the mall–this was how sex trafficking started. Surely Zoe knew that this was a huge red flag.

It was clear from her overzealous wave she didn’t.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair before I saw them–to Zoe’s credit, they were pretty. Both in thick denim blue jeans, both in letterman jackets over white tee-shirts. One was tall, skinny, with pretty dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. The other was a little thicker, pale and short, in badly need from a shave. They were smiling brightly at the two of us in a way that was less awestruck and more closely resembled a triumphant conquest.

“Hello, ladies,” the shorter man greeted, grinning like a shark between Zoe and I. His hair was dark, curling around his temples–handsome, maybe my age, maybe ten years older. It was impossible to tell. There were lines around his eyes that either indicated he smiled too much or was simply older. “What are two cute girls like you doing inside on a day like this–the ski lift is just a walk down the road.”

“We’re here shopping with our brother,” I said immediately, giving a grin. The taller boy quirked his eyebrows at me–his eyes, I noticed, were dark with tawny flecks hidden in them.

“That’s cool,” he said to me, switching places so that the other boy could be closer to Zoe. They both pulled chairs up to our table, facing us. My stomach pinched uncomfortably. “Where’s he at?”

“Nike,” I lied, seeing the sign from the distance and knowing very well that Hot Topic, while probably true, didn’t exactly invoke fear.

“Ah,” he said with a grin, his eyes glancing down at my bare arm with a grin. With two slim fingers, he reached forward to pluck at my woven bracelet Zoe had made me a few nights ago, my name in block letter strung across the twine. His hands were uncomfortably hot, and I drew my arm back into my lap. “Aren’t you cold?” He nodded to my bare arms. I’d left my flannel with Connor, who was sitting on a bench at the time–I hoped he remembered to grab it. I was just wearing a striped cotton tee right now, and my arm had broken out in a case of goosebumps, though I wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

“I’m fine,” I said, careful not to meet his gaze. He was pretty, and if I wasn’t careful, I might end up going somewhere with this guy.

“You know,” he began, and I could hear his grin turn predatory. “You’re very pretty.”

A jolt shot down my spine–I wasn’t pretty, not really, which terrified me. I could hear what the other boy was whispering to Zoe, but I could tell that all the stars were gone from her eyes. She looked pale, panicked. These weren’t the kind of boys we needed to hanging around with.

“I know,” I said quickly. “We really need to call our brother–”

“I think he can wait long enough for me to get your number, right?”

Across the table Zoe laughed, too loudly, pushing back and standing from her chair. She was grinning at the dark haired boy, beckoning her to follow with a jerk of her chin.

“Zoe–”

“We’re gonna run to get some coffee, okay? Connor should be back soon, don’t wait up.”

She didn’t meet my heavy glare for long, and didn’t turn around when I yelled her name. I watched in silent horror as the boy put his hand flush with her lower back.

I was alone.

The panic crept onto the back of my neck long before his thin fingers did. He smelled like cinnamon, strongly, like he’d done one too many sprays with his cologne that morning. When I turned to face him, his tawny eyes were asking.

“Is this the part where you say you’ve got a boyfriend?” He grinned, his teeth blindingly bright in his tan face. He was so close I could see the threads on the collar of his letterman jacket–it looked soft.

There was a possibility, I realized, that they weren’t dangerous. That I was just being paranoid–Zoe wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t go off with a strange boy unless she was sure it was safe. Still, they were definitely in college.

And boy, were they pretty.

“I do have a boyfriend, actually,” I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze so he wouldn’t think I was lying. There was a small voice in the back of my head, screaming, raised on her tip toes that I should just take this plunge–let him hold my hand or kiss him or whatever he wanted to do, because this was a shitty trip and I deserved to be as reckless as the Murphy kids were allowed. I didn’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.

Besides, you know, the obvious.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend?” He asked, biting back a smirk. I felt the voice in the back of my head get sucker punched by my ego. So, he didn’t think I was pretty after all. Which meant he was dangerous.

Which meant Zoe was in trouble.

“Yes,” I growled, standing, yelping a bit when his hand snaked up to grab at my wrist, nearly breaking my bracelet and keeping me bent over the table.

“Let go,” I hissed–the food court was nearly deserted, and the family in the corner was carefully avoiding my eyes. I wasn’t sure I had the voice to scream.

“I don’t believe you have a boyfriend.”

“Let go, or I’ll scream,” I warned, yanking on my arm. He let go immediately, holding his hand high above his head, which I knew was meant as a gesture of calm, but instead looked an awful lot like he intended to strike me.

“Where’s your boyfriend, then?” He taunted loudly, thrilled to see no one in the court coming to my aid. I felt sick, the panic rising in my chest. Where was Zoe? She was in trouble. I was in trouble. I was going to have to scream–

“He’s right here.”

My arm flailed, immediately cocking back in an attempt to elbow in the stomach whoever had wrapped their arm around my neck, their other spidery hand snaking just slightly under the hem of my t-shirt to splay across my hip, finger tips barely brushing my skin above my jeans. The arms were strong, vice like, pressing me against a hard body, and suddenly I felt limp, panic leaving me as I realized whose familiar smell I was enveloped in.

Hair grazed across my cheekbone, and I could make out the dark locks if I looked out the corner of my eye, and I nearly yelped when I felt lips press chastely against my temple.

I couldn’t make out much of the boy anymore, my eyes level with Connor’s adams apple from where he was pressing me against him.

“Babe,” Connor said cooly, calmly, making my knees knock against his. “Who’s this?”

“H-he’s leaving,” I managed to stutter out, barely a whisper, my voice hoarse. I sounded terrified. No wonder this ass in the letterman jacket hadn’t be intimated by me, I sounded about as frightening as a kitten. Connor pressed his fingers against the nape of my neck, tilting my head against his jugular so that I couldn’t see anything but the pale column of his throat and his dark hair. It was getting difficult to breathe–I felt sick. He moved his hand to wrap around my waist, yanking me tightly to him.

“You heard her,” Connor said, again stoic–half of me wished I could see his face, but the other half knew it would be terrifying. Connor’s temper was legendary and destructive–to see him so angry wouldn’t make the fist in my gut unclench. “Go. Take your friend with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. I couldn’t hear much but my own shaky breathing, warm and wet against Connor’s neck, his hair making the space much too hot. I wasn’t aware I had knotted my fingers into his shirt until he started walking, dragging my stumbling form forward with him. He was going fast, too fast for me to keep up, and my chest could only rise so far before deflating painfully.

“You gotta breathe,” he grunted, one of his arms still around me. His face felt hot against me.

“Z-zoe!” I choked out, realizing I had no idea where she was. She could still be with that boy, be in danger–

“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed bitterly, letting go and beginning to trudge forward. I was terrified briefly, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact I didn’t know where I was. There was a Game Stop, and a Victoria’s secret, the neon lighting combined with the screaming toddlers and the kissing teens and Connor was leaving

An arm swept up from behind me, leading me just as quickly, mumbling something I couldn’t make out into my ear.

“Zoe!” I grinned, immediately feeling safer, feeling my fear melt away just smidgen in my gut.

“I’m so so sorry I left,” she sobbed. “I went looking for a cop, but I found Connor first and I told him you were in trouble–”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately, surprised that my voice was no longer wet. “Thanks, Zoe.”

I was calm, or, at least calmer by the time we reached the van. Connor was waiting by the passenger side door, which was opened, leaning against a scratch in the silver paint. He wasn’t looking at us, instead appearing to observe the silver snowflakes as they fell.

My reflection in the side mirror revealed my face was red and blotchy, not just from the cold wind. I felt gross–guilty for the fact I hadn’t been able to defend myself and Zoe, guilty for the fact Connor Murphy was the one who had to come to my rescue, and guilty for the fact I’d cried all over him. His zipped up hoodie seemed to have escaped the mess, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel awful. 

He stepped out of the way when I made it close, gesturing for me to get in the passenger side door while glaring at the ground. I was only vaguely surprised, and followed along immediately. Zoe and I almost always rode together in the back. I let Connor shut the door, ignoring the disgusted look Zoe gave as she got into the back.

Connor hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, surprising me with a costume change, reappearing in only a forest green tee. He held out his hoodie to me, balled up in one of his fists without looking at me, before just tossing it into my lap.

“I–”

“I left your flannel in the back. Put that on or you’ll freeze.”

He licked his lips, staring coldly out the front window, before starting the car. I swallowed. Yeah, he definitely hated me.

“Okay.”

——

“You’re sure you’re alright, honey?” My mother asked for the third time. Her hair was tied up, her pink bathrobe covering little of her cleavage and bare legs. She was cradling a wine bottle in her hands, looking at me in faux concern.

I gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine,” I lied. I’d calmed considerately. Connor and Zoe had both agreed I needed to shower to wash off the panicked look on my face–I’d asked them to keep the days happenings a secret. They’d reluctantly agreed.

She gave me a clipped smile. “Maybe you should go to bed early, yeah? That’s what I plan to do.”

I nodded, scratching at my bare leg. I’d taken advantage of Zoe’s absense and changed into boxer shorts and an oversized tee with a kitten on the front–she and Cynthia had headed into town for the night, spending the night at a spa and would be gone for a few days, and my father had taken his annual ‘me time’ and booked a hotel downtown to do his own thing. I think Mr. Murphy went with him, but regardless, he was out of the house. It was just me and my mother.

And Connor. I tried not to think about it. I planned on offering him the big bed tonight, in way of thanking him for today, but we hadn’t spoken much since the incident and I felt…odd. Unsure how to thank him. Unsure why he helped.

I supposed the Murphy men were just gentlemen, even under all that teen angst.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m probably gonna sit out on the balcony and then head to bed.”

She grinned. “Don’t stay out too late, it’s almost down to single digits, dear.”

I just nodded, sliding off the countertop, and slinking upstairs. I was surprised to see Connor sitting on the bed. I grinned.

He looked different, to say the least. He was still without his jacket, wearing only his tee and jeans, and little pair of socks with stars on them, which did seem a little out of character, but I assumed Cynthia bought them. His head perked when he saw me, simply craning his neck, keeping his shoulders bowed forward over his body.

He looked small, I realized. He didn’t look like a boy who punched holes in walls or scared off very big very scary men in shopping mall food courts. He looked like a vogue model with a little too much innocence.

He gave me a grin with no teeth, and it didn’t quite meet his eyes, but I gave him a sheepish smile back.

“Hey,” I greeted, tugging on my top to cover my shorts a little better–Connor Murphy didn’t have any interest in seeing my thighs. Despite all the panic, I’d been playing over and over in my head the comment the boy in the mall had made, incredulous that I had a boyfriend. It was silly to let it sting me, considering he probably wanted to stuff me in a van, but it crippled me nonetheless.

“Hey,” he greeted back, not rising from the bed.  I waited for him to speak again, and when he said nothing, I continued.

“I, uh, meant to say, since Zoe’s gone, you can have the big bed like good old times.”

He frowned. “I don’t need the bed.”

“I don’t either,” I promised, leaning against the banister. “Plus,” I sighed, scratching at the back of my head. “I’m not entirely sure how to thank you for today. I’d probably be selling for a low ball price on the dark web right now, if it wasn’t for you. So, thanks.”

Connor was still frowning. “You’ve had a really rough day. You should take the bed.”

“No,” I insisted, beginning to get frustrated. “I’m really okay, I promise. I can’t give you anything else, take the bed.”

His dark eyebrows knit together quickly, licking his lips again nervously. “I don’t–”

“Plus,” I cut him off again with a curt laugh. “I owe you for your Oscar performance. That was crazy, you know. I can’t believe you fooled him into thinking a guy like you would be with a girl like me.”

His head snapped up. “A guy like me?” He reiterated coldly. I felt my face grow hot.

“You know,” I said quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you’re cool,” I muttered. “And nice looking. And I’m not.”

I was thankful for the warm lighting in the room, concealing my red face. It was already dark out, the blinds drawn tightly. Connor’s fists clenched in the white lace comforter on the bed. I didn’t want him to feel bad for me, and I sort of regretted saying it. Connor had already seen me blubbering today and he didn’t need my shitty teen angst to deal with.

He bit down on his lower lip, staring coldly at the ground before murmuring, “I need a shower. Take the bed.”

I shook my head. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He just nodded, rising from the bed. “Don’t get too far. It’s cold out.”

Connor shut the bathroom door behind him, and I was left feeling like a total idiot. I could hear the shower running before I left, snagging Connor’s grey jacket from my bed post and sliding it on. I went down the stairs, sliding out the first door to the outside, stepping out onto the first floor balcony. I made a mental note to the shut the blinds later, before walking around to the front of the cabin.

I should’ve been thrilled to be alive, I realized, snorting at how melodramatic that sounded. Still, as I burrowed deeper into Connor’s jacket, watching my thighs turn red from the cold, I realized that I was shrouded in a veil of melancholy I wouldn’t be able to shake off.

I missed Connor. I missed being his friend. I missed him coming over for play dates when we were kids, gauzy fairy wings strapped to our backs, jumping on a trampoline when Zoe was still to young to participate. I missed writing him letters, like a pen pal, despite the fact he only lived on the opposite side of town. Going to different schools hadn’t deterred us, for a while, at least. We had sleepovers every birthday, and Zoe told the best scary stories. I remembered hiding under Connor’s bed with him, a hand clasped over my mouth so Zoe wouldn’t hear our breathing.

I remembered kissing him when we were in kindergarten, ridiculously late at night, a quick smack on the lips during a game of pretend. I’d kissed Zoe, too, when we were probably much too old for it, but thinking of Connor tugged on my chest.

It stopped as we turned twelve, I realized. I never saw him–he was still playing little league, and I stopped coming to his games to pick dandelions with Zoe. He was beginning to get teased. My parents insisted the slumber parties should stop, we were too old. Every time Connor and I were together at birthdays or Christmas parties, adults would joke about when we’d fall in love, how soon would it be before we got married. We avoided each other like the plague, unless we knew we could be alone. And we were never alone.

Connor hid inside himself. Zoe made fun of him at parties, loudly. I kept quiet.

He stopped calling during the summer months. He never rode his bike by my house. The only time I saw Connor Murphy was the annual ski trip.

I missed him. He’d been a childhood friend, and I’d let him go without a second thought to save myself some shred of dignity, like it wouldn’t be ripped away from me regardless.

Connor Murphy was nothing to be ashamed of.

And now it was too late to be his friend.

It had started to snow again, so I wiped my face and rose, walking the opposite way I had come, skirting the stairs–they led to the upstairs, but only to Connor’s room, and I didn’t plan to barge in uninvited, especially if he was still in the shower, two rooms blocked me from getting to the king bed, so I’d have to walk all the way around the house.

The lights were out, I saw, but again no one had bothered to close the blinds. The television might have been on, a dim blue glow resounding onto the leather couch–

I froze.

As it turned out, my mother hadn’t gone to bed. The television was on, showing some late show with some old white man making cracks about some politician I didn’t care for, casting the blue haze onto the coffee table, revealing the wine bottle my mother had been cradling. Two empty glasses sat on the table–my mother’s bathrobe crinkled on the floor.

I was disgusted in a comedic way, just for a moment, to see my mother in her nightgown kissing my father, who my brain had filled in under the assumption he’d arrived back.

I’d begun backing up to the stairs, Connor Murphy’s naked body be damned, when I realized my father’s car had never pulled up, and I’d been on the front porch the whole time.

A better look in the window revealed a man a little older, a little more gray and a little more handsome than my father.

I was sprinting by the time Larry Murphy had begun to peel his shirt off his back.

I didn’t knock by the time I’d made it to Connor’s room, just threw open the door, struggling to get my breathing under control. I stumbled to the pull out couch, dragging the sheets up around my freezing legs. I was in shock, I knew, and I needed to calm down before Connor came in–the bathroom door was shut, but I couldn’t hear the shower anymore, despite the steady trickle of steam coming through the cracks. I was trapped in this room until Connor came out.

My mother was cheating on my father Larry Murphy. Larry Murphy was cheating on his wife with my mother. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe it, I had to have made it up, this had to be a dream–

“What are you doing in here?”

It was an exclamation, alarmed, grasping a towel tight with thin white knuckles.

Connor. Connor in a towel. Connor wet with slick hair and chest hair and navel and hip bones. Connor Murphy, son of Larry Murphy, who had his tongue down my mom’s throat–

“Hey, breathe, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

By the time my eyes snapped back into focus, Connor was struggling to pull on grey basketball shorts without dropping his towel, and I dropped my gaze back to my shaking hands, almost startlingly red from the temperature change and what was most likely shock. I was hyperventilating, struggling to smother the sobs. I knew this deep in the house, they probably wouldn’t hear me–they were most definitely preoccupied anyway. 

The bed dipped, and Connor’s bare side brushed my thigh. I didn’t mean to jerk back, but I did, clinging to the arm of the couch and staring horrified–Connor looked almost hurt, but mostly panicked. I tried to calm down, for his sake.

“S-sorry!” I sobbed. “Sorry! I-I-I didn’t mean–I didn’t mean–I didn’t–I–”

“Hey, stop, breathe. You gotta breathe. Go slow, okay? Stop tryna talk,” he commanded, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t gonna hurt me, readjusting so that he sat up on his knees, leaning  over me to take my hands, rubbing them between his own despite the claminess.

I avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the dip of his collar bone, surprised to see thin lines of chest hair, wet and plastered to his chest. He was skinny, and I could see his ribs despite the tiny stomach roll from where he folded in the middle. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles across the backs of my hands, and for a moment, I didn’t think. I could’ve forgotten everything and fallen asleep right here with him.

He pulled my hands against his chest, cradling mine in his own, pulling me forward, asking with his slate eyes if it was alright.

I pretended we were friends.

“You wanna talk about that?” He asked very softly, looking down at where our hands were clasped against him–he was warm, his skin pink and hot from the shower. He’d combed his hair back out of his face, and it was almost cute like that. “If it’s about today, I promise you’re safe, alright? I wasn’t gonna let that guy hurt you.”

My heart sunk in my chest, nearly restarting my panic attack. I shook my head.

Connor deserved to know.

I was scared, briefly, that it would set him off. He might yell at me, throw things, kick me out of the room. He might hit me.

I didn’t care. He had a right to know.

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “N-no.”

“Did something happen on your walk? Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“What? Trouble back home–your boyfriend break up with you or something?”

“My mom–” I started, voice breaking, feeling fresh tears of shock on my cheeks.

His eyebrows furrowed, tightening his grip on my hands. “Is she okay? She–”

I saw it in slow motion–his jaw unclenched, eyebrows relaxing from their set, pouted mouth turning down. It was calm. It was knowing.

“You saw them,” he said very softly, letting my hands fall back into his lap. I was too shocked to move them away from his thighs.

“You knew,” I spat–an accusation. I hadn’t meant to make it one.

Connor scrubbed at his eyes roughly, flopping onto his back against the bed. Frustrated.

“I was tired of my dad reading my fucking emails, so I hacked into his–I only saw a few. I didn’t want to see anymore.”

I paled, feeling nauseous. “So it’s happened before?” I choked.

He swallowed. “That was two summers ago.”

“Fuck,” I hissed uncharacteristically, surprised to find Connor stretching out an arm to me. I took his hand with a firm grip. “How long before then.”

He shrugged. “Maybe our whole lives. Maybe before. I’m not sure, angel.”

I nodded, secretly pleased that he was so calm. It kept me level, grounded, watching where our hands were linked.

“What do we do?” I choked. “I have to tell my dad. He deserves to know.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Everything would change. He’d tell my mom.”

I bit down on my lip, folding down onto my back to lay down beside Connor. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Connor sighed, scratching at my hand tenderly with his black painted nails. “I’m not sure that my mom and Zoe could handle the news–it’s not like they’d turn to me. They’d be alone. Zoe might even take my dad’s side.”

I groaned, stealing my hands to scrub at my eyes. My wet hair was beginning to dry in a tangled mess.

“This is too much,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side to face Connor, staring at his bare, freckled shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. If I can do anything.”

I jumped a foot out of my skin when he placed a hand at the corner of my jaw, brushing the tangled hair back out of my face. “You don’t have to think about it right now. You’ve had a really long fucking day. You should sleep.”

I didn’t want to sleep–I didn’t want Connor to leave. I didn’t know how to say that.

I couldn’t believe that everyone had tried to desperately to convince me Connor Murphy was a bad boy–fuck them, Connor Murphy was good. He was better than everyone in this cabin combined.

He cared about me.

I caught his wrist, which froze in my grasp, but I just took his bony hand and cradled it between my hands the same way he’d done mine, tracing the lines across his palm. He sucked  in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” I said, and he smiled, moving away. I let go of his hand.

“I just have to turn off the light. Get comfy.”

His retreating footsteps filled my stomach with dread, but nevertheless I unzipped his jacket and draped it on top of the blanket so that it would at least keep my feet warm. Pulling the pillow tight behind my head, I was pleased to find it sort of smelled like Connor’s shampoo as the light clicked off. It left me feeling a little more safe. Ironic, I realized. I was in the middle of a wilderness, I’d almost been abducted, my mother was downstairs ruining our family, and all I could find myself to be worried about was if Connor would be okay.

The bed dipped behind me, shocking me into stillness, surprising me even more when someone lifted the sheet and slid in behind me, a bony hand resting on my hip.

“This okay?” He asked, and I dared to open my eyes to meet his. They were unsure, nervous. He was scared I’d reject him. I nodded, scooting closer.

“It really will be okay, you know,” he assured. “Whatever you choose, I’m gonna be with you.”

“You’re amazing,” I said without thinking, but being entirely sincere. Even in the dark, I saw his eyes go wide and his cheeks tinge a deep magenta in his pale face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I assured with a laugh, reaching across the divide to poke at his side, slightly surprised to still find him shirtless. He’d withdrawn his hand almost immediately, keeping respectfully to his side of the bed. “I’d be dead without you. And you’ve supported me this whole way.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, freeing one of his arms to pick at the wrinkled sheets between us. “I just, fuck, I knew you’d hear some shit, but I was hoping you’d be able to come out here and we could start over again, like before? Zoe started her smear campaign almost immediately. I just, fuck, nevermind.”

I watched him withdraw, turning over with his back to me, the pale plains of his back bared to me.

“Con,” I said very softly. “I don’t care what they say–fuck them,” I laughed, watching Connor’s shoulders shake. “I think you’re good, Connor, and I miss being your friend.”

I watched with bated breath as his back rose and fell with his steady breath in the cold room, his skin radiating heat. I shifted closer, crossing the divide between us. He didn’t respond.

I didn’t sleep.

——

I was alerted late in the day by a noise–it was daylight, I noted, the clock on the bedside table reading it was almost noon. I was groggy, still in the state between sleep and consciousness. The room was shrouded in a bright grey hue from the winter wonderland outside–it had snowed a significant amount, apparently, and the white fluff stuck hopelessly to the window.

At the foot of the bed, Connor was on his knees, pulling a navy sweater over his head. It was tight, with a stretched collar and holes at the hem, but he looked good in it. His hair was frizzed at the temples, and his eyes were wide when we saw me.

“You’re awake.”

I just nodded, a little embarrassed. Part of me hoped Connor would just let last night drop, and we could continue our indifference toward each other, but most of me felt as if we had an unfinished conversation to attend to.

“Is anyone back yet?” I asked, surprised as Connor came to sit in front of me, legs crossed kindergarten style. He shook his head.

“No, actually. No one came back from their trip, and the lovebirds have miraculously vanished for a ski day. It’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Connor seemed unsure for a moment, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I’m sorry, um, about last night? I should’ve asked first if it was okay to sleep next to you, I just–I know you said you missed being friends, so I thought–”

“It was nice,” I cut him off with a smile that was nearly all false bravado. “Warm. I really do miss hanging out with you.”

He pursed his lips in way of a smile. “Me too. Miss having friends, period, but you’re kinda great, so–I’ll shut up.”

Stretching, I groaned with the sensation and smiled widely at him. “We can be friends again, don’t you think?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When my vision cleared, he was sitting by my feet, eyes downcast.

“It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?” He asked, sending ice down my spine.

“What, I’m not cool enough for you?” I teased half heartedly, despite feeling slightly sick. If Connor left now, I’d be marooned on this island I’d made for myself, and it wasn’t ideal knowing I no longer had any allies.

“No! That’s not what I–no, fuck, I just meant. Don’t you like Zoe better?”

I shook my head. “I like Zoe–but I liked you first.”

“Yeah, I liked the Teletubbies first, doesn’t mean I prefer them to Death Cab for Cutie.”

I snorted. “Okay, I like you best. You’re both really similar, you know, but you’re kinder.”

He shot me a glare, which I supposed I’d earned. “Liar.”

“Can’t lie,” I protested. “And I like you better. Get used to it.”

He swallowed, shifting on the bed and looking at me again as if grappling to say something. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle, making him look slightly worried, small. I watched the way his mouth bowed as he opened and closed it, my eyes tracing over his soft lips.

He was pretty, I realized, in a way I wouldn’t have considered before.

“What about when you leave?” He asked softly, scratching his arm absently.

I frowned. “What about it?”

“We won’t see each other again.”

I smiled. “Connor, you just live on the other side of town. I do own a car.”

He frowned. “You’d come to see me?”

“If you wanted me to,” I answered honestly. “Or we could go do stuff. It doesn’t make me any difference–whatever you want, I’m game for.”

His eyebrows took a sharp hike into his hairline. “Whatever I want, huh?”

My stomach clenched nervously–decidedly a good kind of nervous. I didn’t realize it till he placed his hand on my ankle, grinning up at me with crooked teeth and pretty eyes, that I might’ve begun to develop a small crush on him.

Which wasn’t okay.

——

“This is such bullshit.”

I cackled as Connor continued to strap on his snow boots, repeatedly tripping and losing his balance in the snow.

“C'mon, it’s fun!” I protested, pulling my sock toboggan down tighter over my ears, trudging another few slow steps through the slush. Connor was frustrated, I could tell, seeing his pink nose and ears, his breaths coming out in angry puffs of smoke.

“No,” he grunted, dragging himself up the trail a few more steps. “Video games are fun. Cartoons are fun. Cheap Internet porn is fun. Dragging my frozen ass up a mountain covered in snow for ten miles is not my idea of fun, dude.”

“It’s not ten miles,” I protested, taking a seat on a mostly clean looking rock, patting the seat beside me in condolence to Connor, giving him a much needed break. He’d agreed to go outside with me at least once to take a hike, since the Murphy kids never ever wanted to do anything that didn’t involve fried food or touristy tie dye t-shirts. We’d been going for a few hours now, and the last bench had easily been miles ago. I wanted to see where the trail ended.

Part of me was scared he’d only agreed because he thought I would break. I’d surprised myself with how calm I’d been after, well, what a nightmare this trip had been. I supposed I’d be worse once my dad got back–but he wasn’t yet, so I was content to have my last moments with Connor.

“We’ve been out here for hours, man, don’t you think we should head back before it gets dark?” He whined, leaning forward on his elbows and rubbed his hands together–he had on mittens, which was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Say what you want about Connor Murphy, his aesthetic was absolutely demolished once you put him in a fire engine red puffer coat.

I sighed, glancing wistfully up the trail. I’d like to finish, but Connor was right–it was getting dark, too dangerous out for us to be out here alone. He’d humored me enough for today.

Time to go back and face reality.

I just nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets and rising from the rock, giving a decent stretch before moving forward back down the path, Connor scurrying along beside me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said again, nudging him with my shoulder. He stumbled gracefully, grinning with a subdued force that warmed me a little, before checking me back with his shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But it wasn’t totally awful.”

I snorted. “I won’t let anyone know Connor Murphy can feel fun.”

Biting back a smile, he nudged me again. “God, please don’t. Then they might bring me back here and I’ll have to spend another two weeks with you.”

“I’m sure I’m just killing you inside,” I teased. “How dare your parents give you unfiltered access to a teenage girl.”

“Who never wears pants around the house,” he added sagely.

“And sleeps in your bed!” I choked with laughter, the bird walking along the snow path in front of us clearing the way. “God, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry, I was probably awful. Did I snore?”

His mouth twisted, as if trying to look indifferent but instead just failed at smothering a smile, both corners of his lips turning in a different direction.

“Not awful,” he offered, earning an embarrassed groan from me. “No! It’s cute, like a kid, I promise. You kicked the shit out of me, though.”

“You’re kidding me,” I groaned. “I’m so so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might be some bruises,” he grinned, to my further mortification. “Hey, nah, I’m kidding. Any damage will heal. It’s kinda funny.”

I cocked an eyebrow from where I was hiding my face behind my gloves. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” he said, reaching out to take my wrist, pulling one of my hands away from my face. He didn’t realize it, just held it, swinging stiffly between us as we walked. He held his breath for a moment before continuing, “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t like it.”

“Kinky,” I said upon reflex, earning a lazy kick to my ankle.

“You’re hilarious. I just meant you’re warm, maybe the bruises are worth it.”

I felt my face get hot, words forming in my belly, escaping before I could choke them back. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll kiss them better tonight, if Zoe isn’t back.”

He let go of my wrist like I’d burned him.

“Sor–”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, beginning to walk quickly ahead of me.

“What?” I screeched, frustrated.

“Don’t fake flirt with me. It’s not funny,” he spat, continuing walking too fast on his ridiculously long legs.

“Who said it was fake?” I grumbled. “I’m not making fun of you, Connor.”

There was a beat of silence, pulling at my heart with sharp claws, the dull ache starting in my chest and spreading. I’d messed up everything.

“It’s getting dark,” he growled. “And we don’t have a flashlight. Try and keep up.”

——

The panic set in at twilight.

We were running.

He was holding my hand again, dragging me roughly down the mountain, hoping desperately to see some kind of light pollution as the sun set, but there was nothing.

“We should see lights by now,” I told him. “We can see the lights from our cabin, we should see the lights now.”

“We went down the wrong side of the mountain,” he gasped, already out of breathe. I knew his lungs weren’t the best, and we’d been running for awhile now.

“There has to be something at the bottom,” I whispered hopelessly.

“There is,” he growled. “It’s called a gorge, then you climb the other mountain, and there’s the next state. Fuck, how did we get so turned around?”

“Doesn’t matter, Con,” I said hopelessly. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”

His dark eyes widened. “You aren’t sincerely suggesting we try to find shelter. In the middle of a national park.”

“I’ve got a flare gun and a flint,” I told him. “But we have to get back up out of the trees.”

“You want us to climb the mountain again?” He hissed, holding both my hands now. “Are you positive you don’t have signal?”

I nodded. “I’m really sorry, Connor.”

“Don’t be sorry. Start walking.”

——

It was an accident.

It was dark.

I had an analog watch, letting me know it was nearly nine pm. We’d found shelter just as it had started to snow–the  ground here was wet, quickly freezing into ice, and we kept slipping up on the trail. I’d set off the flare an hour ago, and, so far, nothing. The snow had begun to pick up, and we’d found a alcove between two adjacent rocks–not big, about the size of a walk in closet, but enough space for us, our bags, and a pile of wood that refused to light. It kept the snow and wind off of us, and the alcove was high enough I felt safe, with a small mouth that made me feel as if at any instant we could be trapped.

It was an accident.

“The fire won’t light,” I said again, hopelessly, watching my now bloody fingers go numb from trying desperately to get the flint to do its job. I couldn’t feel them without my gloves on.

Connor, huddled in a corner, viciously rubbed his arms in an attempt to get warm. I knew the  temperature would only drop from here. If someone hadn’t seen the flare….

“There’s no dry wood. I checked.”

“Nothing?”

“No, okay? Nothing. That’s it.”

I knew he was right–and searching now would only prove to be counter productive and dangerous. I moved our bags and the pile of firewood to the entrance, sealing us in.

“It’s gonna be pitch black soon,” I warned, watching Connor tap angrily at his phone. “You should probably save your battery. I don’t have a flashlight.”

He snorted. “You’ll bring sleeping bags and a flint, but not a flashlight?”

“It’s the emergency bag! I didn’t pack it, Connor. Make fun of it all you want, but it’s keeping us alive!”

There was a beat of silence, before he clicked his phone off, leaving us in darkness. “M sorry.”

I dragged out the single sleeping bag, stretching it out to him. “Don’t be sorry.” I felt guilty–it was my fault we were in this mess to begin with. “Wanna granola bar?”

“Save it,” he said in a clipped tone, unsure what to make of it since we were veiled in darkness. “We might need it later.” Then, softer: “What’s the plan?”

I heard him stand, and walk across the slick ice of the alcove, coming to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

“Well,” I said very slowly, feeling my throat get thick. “Survive the night, stay awake, and once dawn hits we head back to the other side of the mountain, if no one comes.”

“If no one comes,” he echoed, voice oddly hollow. I choked.

“It, erm, is very possible they think we just wandered off, you know? We’re teenagers,” I reminded gently. I left out the part the police would be less than willing to look–Connor had a history of running away after a bad binge.

“Fuck,” he growled.

It was an accident. It was quick, in the dark, we couldn’t see.

He reached our for me, his open palm colliding with the back of my head, yanking me tightly again his chest, my nose buried in his nylon puffer coat. I felt his other hand, too forcefully, at the small of my back, and I nearly screamed, terrified this was an episode I couldn’t control–

“We’re gonna make it outta here,” he breathed against my ear, his breath warm and humid against my freezing ears. It set off a light bulb in my brain. “We’re gonna go back home and–fucking shit, I’m gonna be a goddamn good friend to you and we’re gonna–fuck,” he hissed, his clipped voice breaking off. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I let myself break open, collapsing against him, openly sobbing with regret. He stiffened, but just tightened his arms around me despite our bulky clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not,” he hissed, shaking me a little. “We had no way of knowing this would happen. The trail looked safe.”

I just nodded, knowing that arguing would tire me out. I felt the lethargy begin to creep in my bones–Connor was warm, and it was late, and we were tired. Falling asleep meant dying.

“Get out the sleeping bag,” he said, extracting himself from me, and I heard his hands scrape along the hard rock looking for the entrance. “And I’ll look for some more blankets in the bag, see if we can’t insulate–fuck!

“What is it?” I screeched, turning, grabbing his hand to only find that my own was suddenly wet, almost sticky, and Connor pulled away with a howl. I smelled the metallic sting before I realized.

“Something cut my hand!”

“Stay away from the wall,” I warned. “Take your undershirt off, I’ll rip it up.” I felt around desperately for Connor’s phone, immediately illuminating our little cave with a blinding blue light.

The amount of blood smeared across the wall was nauseating. There was a sharp spot Connor must’ve grabbed too quickly.

He was crying, trying desperately to unzip his coat with one hand, the other dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck, I hope something doesn’t smell that,” I whispered, laying down the light and running to help him get undressed, careful of the open cut across his palm.

“I knew I was gonna get naked tonight,” he said with an unsure laugh, “I just didn’t realize it would be like this.”

My face flushed. “What, you thought I’d suck you off because we’re about to die?”

He shivered, accentuated by me ripping his white shirt down the front, exposing his blue, goosebumped skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and I was unsure if it was from the cold, the pain, or my foul language.

“Hope this is clean,” I muttered, wrapping a strip of his white shirt across his palm in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. It was a good way to get an infection, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“I didn’t–I wouldn’t ask you to–”

“I’m not sucking you off!”

“Fuck, I just meant–hypothermia, skin to skin, I saw it in a movie–”

The phone light clicked off. I sighed, tying off the cotton bandage.

“You wanna get naked in the sleeping bag,” I finished.

“I don’t want to!” He howled. “And not naked–just, enough to stay alive, shit. It’s gonna be negative ten out here soon, I just wanna stay alive.”

“We should hurry,” I said, surprising myself by reaching out to urge him to rub at his bare chest, earning a gasp from him. “You’re gonna freeze soon. Get your pants off.”

I handed him the sleeping bag, my breath catching as I heard his belt clink to the floor, trying very hard not to think about the implications of this. How far did he expect me to undress? And, if we did get in here, it would be ridiculously tight, we might fall asleep–

“Hurry up, this bag is an icicle with one person.”

Straightening out my bra and panties (even if we were going to die, Connor Murphy did not get to cop a feel) I felt my way to the sleeping bag.

My hand on his chest, he guided my legs one at time–one by his side, one between his knees–and gently folded me down against him, uncomfortably tight as his shaking fingers zipped the sleeping bag up.

He was breathing hard against my temple, and I immediately began to sweat–between the nylon bag and the fact I felt all of Connor Murphy pressed against my chest and stomach–it was nerve wracking.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he reminded in a hoarse voice, shaking a little. I couldn’t quite figure out where his hands were.

“Don’t get a boner,” I begged, earning a beat of silence before:

“I, uh, am–I’m really trying not to,” he groaned, and I could feel how hot his face was against my temple.

“If it helps,” I said, slightly disgusted. “You can imagine our parents kissing. That really kills my fire.”

“Ew,” he said. “Please don’t.”

I grinned. “What? You don’t want me to be your hot step sister?”

Stop it,” he begged, making me laugh, pressing my face against the soft cushion of his hair, nosing at the column of his throat. He groaned a little, and I felt his fingers twitch beside my hips.

“I can’t believe their secret is going to die with us,” I sighed. “No one is ever going to know.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying on top of me in your spiderman panties, but that’s also happening, so you’d better believe it,” he sighed, hands twitching again.

“You can touch me, you know,” I breathed, a little embarrassed against his ear. “We’re gonna die anyway, might as well die comfy.”

“We won’t die,” he promised, his hands clasping over the small of my back regardless.  “Hey,” he crooned, in a soft voice I hadn’t heard before. Encouraging. “Remember sharing a sleeping bag when we were kids?”

I laughed half heartedly, remembering fully. “The thing was always full of pixie stick wrappers.”

“It was an addiction, and I have quit,” he said sagely, earning another laugh from me. I almost joked about the pot, but part of me knew it wasn’t a funny joke. It didn’t have anything to do with him. He sighed, one finger trailing up my spine. “God, I was so in love with you.”

I froze against him, my body a live wire. His hand pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said tha–”

“Were you really?” I asked. I felt him smile, before leaning in to kiss my cheek, slowly, his dry lips lingering.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he groaned. “Zoe had me convinced you were just humoring me because you knew I’d do anything for you.”

I pulled up, as far as I could (which wasn’t much) squinting to make out his face in the dark. “That wasn’t true. You were my best friend.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. God, that time when you kissed me….I’m so sorry we stopped talking. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that.”

“Connor,” I said very softly, reaching up to tangle my hands lightly in his hair. “If we’re gonna die…can I just….”

He surged up before I could, the nylon around us snapping taunt, squeaking in protest. Up on his elbows, his bony hands found their purchase on my bare hips, and I felt the wetness through one of the bandages–his hand was still bleeding, the idiot.

His lips were dry, and he kissed much too roughly for someone who wasn’t holding my head in place, our teeth clinking together in a way that I knew was an accident, sending my skull ringing. His eyes were squeezed shut in the darkness.

I can’t believe it took us to the brink of death for him to admit this.

God, he’s an idiot.

I reached up, pulling at his hair, holding his head to mine, his tongue licking roughly up into my mouth before breaking away–

“Boner,” he warned in a squeak, earning a loud laugh from me, collapsing against his chest.

“Not even in death, Murphy, am I sucking you off on a first or last date,” I giggled against his neck, giving him a chaste kiss there, listening to him groan. His hips canted a little, scaring me, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“First date, huh?” I felt him grin, followed by a yawn.

“Stay awake, Connor,” I urged, smacking him hard. “Or I’m gonna twist your nipple.”

“Kinky,” he sighed lethargically. Shit, he was gonna sleep.

“Connor–”

“Promise me this,” he sighed, nuzzling lightly against the side of my face. “If we survive the night by some miracle, and we don’t freeze to death or get eaten by bears or bleed out–you wanna kiss me again? With more clothes on? As my girlfriend?”

I leaned into his touch, tilting my head up to give him access to suck a hickey into my neck, groaning.

“Murphy, if we live, I will suck you off.”

That was the last thing I remembered.

——-

Three days later, it’s still cold. I’m not wearing much–a blue gown with shitty pink flowers, it’s made of some kind of plasticy cotton material. There’s blood under my fingernails and bruises on my neck that are almost embarrassing when I remembered how I got them. My clothes were gone.

Connor was gone.

My mother and father were leaning over my bed, the Murphy's  (minus Cynthia) are behind them. No Connor.

They explained it slowly, eyes wide. They found Connor and I nearly frozen, unconscious. Connor lost a lot of blood, they said, and he wasn’t do so well but he’d woken up several days before me.

He wouldn’t eat until they let him see me.

I’d nearly ripped out my IV to get to him.

He was wearing the same shitty hospital gown, his hair pulled back. He’s got hickies I don’t remember giving him across his collarbone that are ridiculously visible. There were purple bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“They said you were still too sick to get out of bed,” he grinned, opening his arm, and I immediately stumbled over to the thin mattress, pressing myself tightly against him. His hand is thickly wrapped in cotton, a few tubes full of a yellow brown liquid in them. He was combing my hair–which I’m sure was a rats nest–out with his free hand.

“They said the same about you.”

“We’re really lucky, you know,” I said softly, tapping at his chest. “I almost lost you.”

“Almost lost you,” he choked out, pulling away to scan my face, before grinning. “Which would’ve sucked, because you’re my only friend right now.”

“Friend?” I said, trying hard not to sound disappointed. I supposed I shouldn’t have been–what we’d done in the heat of a moment hadn’t meant anything then. It had been a lie for my humor.

It wasn’t fair.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You, um–do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

I frowned. “I mean, only if you want me to.”

He grinned, the smile splitting across his face. “It’ll suck–your parents will hate me.”

“Right now, I kind of hate my parents, so.”

“I do a lot of pot.”

“We can do something else instead,” I grinned, nudging him, having the nerve to blush.

He licked his lips, looking down at where he’d intertwined our hands. “You–you can’t fix me, you know? I’m still gonna be, you know.”

I nodded, bring his hand up to kiss across the bloody knuckles of his good hand. “I know. I promised I’d be your girlfriend, though. A promise is a promise.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you say that–because you did promise something else.”

I shook my head, rising from the bed. “The kiss is for when we have clothes on, remember.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kiss.”

Connor Murphy!

One Direction Asks
  • What Makes You Beautiful: Name three things you love about yourself.
  • Gotta Be You: Talk about your crush!
  • One Thing: What's one thing your dream girl/boy HAS to have?
  • More Than This: What's the bravest thing you ever did?
  • Up All Night: Talk about the craziest night of your life.
  • I Wish: What's your biggest dream?
  • Tell Me A Lie: What was your most recent lie?
  • Taken: Talk about your last relationship.
  • I Want: Name three things you want in life
  • Everything About You: Who's your biggest celebrity crush?
  • Same Mistakes: What's your most common mistake?
  • Save You Tonight: Which three things would you save if there was a fire?
  • Stole My Heart: Have you ever fallen for someone you shouldn't have fallen for?
  • Stand Up: What's your favourite sport?
  • Moments: Talk about something good that recently happened to you.
  • Another World: Which fictional world would you want to live in if you could?
  • Na Na Na: What's one thing you can never say no to?
  • I Should Have Kissed You: Is there something you regret?
  • Live While We're Young: Talk about a childhood memory.
  • Kiss You: Tell the story of your first kiss.
  • Little Things: Name five things you find attractive in others.
  • C'Mon, C'Mon: What's your dream destination for a good vacation?
  • Last First Kiss: Do you want to get married? If so, talk about your dream wedding.
  • Heart Attack: Are you jealous?
  • Rock Me: List your ten favourite bands.
  • Change My Mind: Are you good at making final decisions or do you easily change your mind?
  • I Would: Name three guilty pleasures of yours.
  • Over Again: Talk about your first love.
  • Back For You: Talk about your best friend.
  • They Don't Know About Us: Share a secret!
  • Summer Love: Talk about a summer memory.
  • She's Not Afraid: What's your favourite horror film?
  • Loved You First: Are you a possessive person?
  • Nobody Compares: Who's your idol?
  • Still The One: What's one thing you can't seem to get over?
  • Best Song Ever: List your ten favourite songs.
  • Story Of My Life: List five things you can't live without.
  • Diana: What would you name your children?
  • Midnight Memories: Talk about a dream you recently had.
  • You & I: Talk about your OTP.
  • Don't Forget Where You Belong: Where do you feel home?
  • Strong: What are your three best qualities?
  • Happily: Name three things that make you happy.
  • Right Now: Do you miss someone at the moment?
  • Little Black Dress: How would you describe your style?
  • Through The Dark: What helps you when you're feeling down?
  • Something Great: Where do you see yourself in ten years?
  • Little White Lies: Talk about your #1 sexual fantasy.
  • Better Than Words: Do you read fanfiction? If so, what's your favourite fanfiction?
  • Why Don't We Go There?: Which big cities have you been to?
  • Does He Know?: Would you be up for a threesome?
  • Alive: What's one thing you'd never tell your "real life" friends?
  • Half A Heart: What's your favourite lovestory? ( Book, film, etc. )
  • Steal My Girl: Did you ever steal anything?
  • Ready To Run: If you could have one super power, which would you choose?
  • Where Do Broken Hearts Go?: Talk about the best concert you ever attented.
  • 18: Do you wish you were younger or older?
  • Girl Almighty: What makes you sexy?
  • Fool's Gold: Do you fall for people quickly?
  • Night Changes: What's one thing you don't ever want to change?
  • No Control: Can you control your temper ?
  • Fireproof: What scares you?
  • Spaces: Did you ever let someone go for good?
  • Stockholm Syndrome: Name five kinks of yours.
  • Clouds: What's your star sign? Does your personality match it?
  • Change Your Ticket: What would you do with a million dollars?
  • Illusion: Do you believe in higher powers?
  • Once In A Lifetime: What's three things you want to do before you die?
  • Act My Age: Do you consider yourself mature?
  • Just Can't Let Her Go: Name five turn ons.
My 11 year old brother reacts to Hamilton (act 2)
  • What'd I Miss: "is Thomas Jefferson gay? (Me: no, but Laurens gay and Hamilton is bi)"
  • Cabinet Battle #1: "MORE ROASTING!"
  • Take A Break: "I wanna learn how to play piano and speak French.."
  • Say No To This: "WHOOP! THERE GOES MY INNOCENCE! STRAIGHT OUT THE WINDOW!"
  • The Room Where It Happens: "I don't like Burr anymore, he sounds like a jealous 5 year old"
  • Schuyler Defeated: "and Hamilton sounds like a mad 5 year old"
  • One Last Time: "Bye bye!"
  • I Know Him: "oh hey! GAY KING IS BACK! (Me: not everyone is gay...)"
  • The Adams Administration: "why are you letting me listen to a musical about a raging 5 year old?"
  • We Know: "ooh snap! Hamiltons busted!"
  • Hurricane: "Damn, he's got it rough!"
  • The Reynolds Pamphlet: "goodbye Eliza and Hamiltons love life, hello Lams! (Me: YESSSSSSS)"
  • Burn: "did Eliza burn their house down too?"
  • Blow Us All Away: "since when is Philip 19?"
  • Stay Alive (reprise): "sorry, who died, I stopped Listening."
  • It's Quiet Uptown: ooooohh, Philip is dead. R.I.P"
  • The Election of 1800: "Philip just died, and now everyone's happy??"
  • Your Obedient Servant: "the mad 5 year olds are back."
  • Best of Wives and Best of Women: "go back to sleep!"
  • The World Was Wide Enough: "yep, Burr is definitely mad and jealous.."
  • Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story: "it's over??"
Matchmaker - Cody Christian AU Imagine

Warnings:SMUT,swearing,daddy kink,jealous Cody,ass slapping,hand tying,m+f oral,fake tweet,fluff.

A/N: Enjoy xx and Happy Valentines Day or as I like to call it “Another thing to remind me i’m Single AF” 

y/n; your name

y/u/n; your username

MASTERLIST


Lisa: Hi guys were back on Clevver Tv’s Valentines day special with the cast of Teen Wolf * Lisa smiled*

Lisa: So Cody our sources yell us you’re off the market and have been for some time now, is that true?

Keep reading

Love for the Signs
  • Aries: You try so hard to show your bulletproof vest to the world, but why is it every time they shoot, you bleed? Sweet Aries, you keep tying yourself to the train tracks without telling anyone, but whenever that train comes, your noble heart is crushed under insecurities' wheels. You'd rather watch yourself bleed out than ask from a giving hand. Your heart is too pure and your intentions are too raw to hide from others. Dear Aries, you are worthy of vulnerability. Exposing yourself to others does not and will not make you weak. It can only give you power.
  • Taurus: My sweet, dear Taurus, you are radiant in your glow and the person who ever told you otherwise is a damned liar. You pick their words off of sunflowers and dress yourself in their pedals, but Taurus you must let yourself see the flower as a whole. You sew the vibrant pieces to your heart without realizing that half the flower is already dead and now you are attached to something that no longer has life. You thrive in the grandeur of nature and having death fastened to your insides drains your once fluorescent glow. Something you once thought was so right, is now wrong. Admitting your faults will only let your heart breathe.
  • Gemini: Oh, the vivacity of life you hold within you my exuberant Gemini. You live two lives at once, you're a stimulated bolt of youth while simultaneously being a fallen heart always one finger away from an anxiety attack. Sometimes my dear, we can't see you with your forged facade. Do you even know which face you may wear today? It's an unconscious action, you feel both sides so you are able to be both sides at once and the others call your blasphemies. My dear, stop trying to suppress half of yourself in order to accommodate to their needs. Love both sides, then you may feel whole.
  • Cancer: My darling Cancer, are you still in bed holding your chest waiting for them by your window? You stand at the corner of their hearts holding a sign for hire "needed to be needed, loved to be loved" but didn't anyone ever tell you no one will ever love you as much as you do? If you move your hand from your chest, i promise you darling your heart will not fall, it can only grow. Your empty spots are not fatalistic, they are opportunities to be filled with the daises you picked from your garden. So let go sweet Cancer, let go and let in the fresh air of your beautiful aspirations.
  • Leo: I love to watch you paint as you delicately carve your love into trees you wish to lay under. You dream of peace but only seem to land on a pile of stressful need. Your heart is too big for them my sweet Leo, your heart is too pure and genuine that it often consumes you. They call you prideful but don't they know its because you already gave your heart to them and watched them squeeze its evergreen beauty? Your pride is not bad nor is it rotten or grim, it is an example of your standards. They broke your heart once and you'd be a fool to let them break it twice. Hold your head up high dear Leo, but remember to look down every now and then.
  • Virgo: You order ORDER itself and when it doesn't listen to you, you deteriorate into shambles. All you ever wanted was to help the ones you love, to give guidance for those who can't see past their eyes. Your detailed eye does not go unseen and your hidden heart will not go unfelt. You are the face of sacrifice, genuine in your quest for perfection but you must realize that you do not have to suffer. My sweet Virgo, you've come to know many lovers but have yet to know yourself. The ocean may seem infinite but you are far from the bottom, you may use your thoughts to drown yourself or you may use them to float. Your Mondays handwork with a heart full of integritY, but please my beautiful Virgo, let yourself breathe and enjoy the release of a Friday afternoon.
  • Libra: Dressed in black and red stained lips, you are lady lust herself playing both sides through stolen sips of wine. You hand out pieces of your heart in perfume masked gift baskets and then at night you hold yourself and wonder why you feel so empty. You have an exquisite soul my dear Libra, but you must stop walking around in the graveyards at night, trying to bury your feelings won't keep them from coming back alive. You fell in love with love itself and now the queen of the equilibrium can no longer keep balance. Sweet Libra, you are worthy of a voice but you must first speak to be heard. Stop using others affection for you as a measure of your worthiness, you must sit in silence and wait for what you cannot change.
  • Scorpio: Oh my dear Scorpio, how long has it been since you felt secure? Your jealous rampages are the result of your fractured loyalties and now when you do hold trust they often crush it in your hand and you're left to watch it fall through your fingers. You cannot manipulate another to love you. You are not tongue tied, you are delicately planned words with secret intentions hunting the truth you never wanted to know. My beautiful Scorpio, you must realize when to let yourself be. You haunt yourself with the action of others, but what they did to you does not define you, and it will no longer control you. The clever mind of a Scorpio shall not be wasted on the weak willed.
  • Sagittarius: The adventurous Sagittarius, which walks of life have you danced with today? You sing with the stories of tomorrow and live with the spontaneity of today, but you must realize that life is painted many different tones; it's wingspread freedom, but it's also storms of serious. Honesty is a virtue that we all thank you for, but my dear Sagittarius the integrity of others is not a joke you can recklessly play with. You are the embodiment of optimism cloaked in yesterdays ambition and tomorrows hope, you are beautiful in your wisdom. But life must be taken from all sights, you are the king of experiences, so dearest Sag, let yourself experience your emotions.
  • Capricorn: My dear Capricorn, you are grand in your restless hunger for the mountains peak. Rushing up the mountain side, trying to make it in time for the sunrise where you wish to lay in the hands of another sipping victorious wine. And although that sunrise will be magnificent in it's symbolic accomplishment, you must realize that missing it isn't a catalyst to your defeat. Although achieving hard works ambition is glorious, your hands are now ice and your heart isolated. This fight to the top may be easier alone, but who will hold you at the end? Remember, with every sunrise there is a sunset, both are qual in their beauty.
  • Aquarius: You are a blessing to tiresome routines while dressed in fortified independence. They can call you bundles of hand me down labels, making you a character to fit into their games but you will rebel to the noise and continue your crafts. But you see my sweet Aquarius, being a voice for the good, your beautiful detachment to judgement is also your biggest hamartia. Others are attracted to the impressions you plant and grow attachments while you disengage when you feel restricted. You must realize others do not break from their emotions so easily, your actions often leave scars. Let yourself be sedated by others, having emotions run deep is fatal but my dear Aquarius, you will never feel more alive.
  • Pisces: An extravagant castle, you are the magic that lives in all of us. The purity of your heart whispers divine compassion, constantly giving love to passing creatures. You live with not only your emotions, but you hold the hurt of everyone around you, you feel their tales of travesties. And my dear Pisces, when all you can do is feel floods of yours and others hurricanes, you escape back to your castle with locked gates. But my sweet Pisces, you must understand that you cannot live in that castle, you cannot wash away ruthless pain with sun dried whiskey and vindictive vodka. Your creative soul is magnificent, so never stop drawing your castle, never stop exploring the depths of your imagination, never stop having empathy, but you can't stop living.
Why Some People Don't Support Your Writing Goals

One of the weird things about writing is that to many outsiders, you look like you are doing nothing. Often, people don’t see the results until months after the work has been completed. That, coupled with the fact that most of the population doesn’t actually understand how complex and difficult it is to write fiction, let alone be successful at it, can lead to some negative encounters. Most people don’t know how to value storytelling. So much of their experience of it is based on feeling and subconscious thoughts.

And of course, there is the tendency to measure things by income, and to some people, skills and work only have value if they can bring in the money. There is a realm for this kind of thinking, but it’s not for everyone and every skill at every level. D. Todd Christofferson once taught, “All true work is sacred.” Even those who have made a beautiful income off their writing were writing without it for a long time.

I remember back when I graduated high school, people were, of course, interested in knowing where I wanted to go from there. When I told them I wanted to be a writer, I was surprised how people felt about it. No one said it straight out, but I could tell from their tone, body language, and what they did say that they thought it was stupid. I clearly remember one person (a graduate from a different high school) sticking her nose up at me and then going off about all the super, amazing, world-changing things she was going to do–all before the age of 19, apparently. She emanated arrogance.

By the time I graduated college with an English degree, I got less flack from people, but I still clearly remember the day of commencement, standing outside a college building in my gown, and one person’s disbelief in me when I said I wanted pursue a career in fiction writing.

Look, I understand where this disbelief comes from. And for you, it might be helpful to know where it might be coming from too:

  • Statistics–the actual stats of how many people want to work in the writing industry vs. how many people actually do. The stats of how many people want to write a book vs. how many people actually do. The stats of how many people want to get published vs. those that do.
  • Money–our world often measures worth based on income. I’ve met people who make all their decisions based on income. I’m not going to say they are wrong. If their dream is to have a great income, good for them for pursuing it. Hats off! But sometimes people forget that not everyone measures life that way. Another point of problem may be that they think you are spending too much money pursuing your writing goals, in one form or another.
  • Time–some people won’t support your writing because of the time it requires you to work on it. They do not view it as a good use of time or that the rewards will be worth the time. I’ve met some people who think choosing to do anything that requires real effort outside of work and other high-priority areas is dumb and wasted energy. If the person is close to you, they may not like how time is taking you away from them or how it affects other areas of your life.
  • Ignorance–As I mentioned, the majority of the world’s population doesn’t understand storytelling or its worth in society. Most people are clueless that there is more to writing than punctuation and grammar, and most people have no idea that you can actually learn how to write better stories. They don’t know it’s a skill that people can actually develop. They think it’s something someone is simply born with, regardless of effort, or something someone just sits down and does in a night.
  • Self-projection–When people hear what others want and are doing, one of the first things they are wired to do is to project themselves into it. I’m pretty sure this is human nature, and if we want to move beyond it, we have to recognize it and retrain ourselves. But it makes sense, because we are trying to relate to whatever people are saying. Because people can’t personally see themselves doing a writing career, they can’t see you doing one. They’ve projected themselves into it, instead of you. This one goes deeper though, beyond career. It also goes into lifestyle.

    People don’t think you have the self-discipline to write a book because they don’t have it.

    People think you don’t have the self-discipline to work from home because they don’t.

    People think you can’t make it as a writer because they can’t.

    and it goes on …

      • Jealousy–Some people won’t support you in your writing because they are jealous.  

        Jealousy (real)–Remember how I brought up stats at the beginning of this list? All those people who wanted to work in the writing industry but didn’t, all those people who want to write a book, but haven’t, all those people who want to be published but aren’t, are out there. Now, many of these people aren’t jerks, and frankly it’s okay they haven’t done these things, or haven’t done them yet. But if they aren’t okay with it, then that might be manifested in jealousy–that you are pursuing what they want to pursue. This might result in them being jerks or unsupportive of you.

        Jealousy (perceived)–Other people who care less about fiction writing can get jealous, but it’s a perceived jealousy. Remember how I said most of the population doesn’t have a clue about how fiction writing works? Some of these people have misconceptions about it. They may be jealous because they think you are sitting at home all day, and you have it so easy. They think fiction writing is easy. They don’t appreciate or understand the process. They’re jealous you don’t have to slave away all day. Or they’re jealous you are following your dreams, when maybe they aren’t. They’re jealous you have a job you enjoy (even if it’s a love/hate relationship).

          All of these are reasons people may not want to support your writing endeavors. Often when people start writing, they don’t have a lot of people rooting for them.

          But guess what? If you want to get real, the only support you absolutely need to write is your own.

          You need to give yourself permission to love writing and to write.

          Now, this doesn’t mean you need to give everything else up and that you should quit your job. But if you want to write. Write. Write on your lunch break. Wake up early and write before anyone is up. Write in secret. Who has to know? If you don’t have time to write, consider how you can make time now or eventually down the road.

          This is your life. Life is short but it is also long. Do you want to miss out on doing what you love? Do you really want to spend all these decades not doing it?

          As I often like to acknowledge though, there are things that happen in life that might hamper your ability to do this or might keep you from being able to do it at all. Life hits, and sometimes there are bigger priorities. That’s okay. Life is also long. And it’s unlikely it will be how it is right now for all of it.

          But even when you give yourself permission to write, you’re still going to have to deal with unsupportive people. I’m very lucky in that my family has always supported me, my boss supports me, most all my friends support me. But not everyone has that.

          In some cases, if you really want to pursue writing, and you keep having to deal with people tearing you down about it day after day, it might be best to cut that person out of your day-to-day or even month-to-month life. Maybe “cut” is too harsh, but maybe you can sort of fade-out.

          But again, not everyone has this option. What about when you are married to that person? What about when that person works next to you at your job? Since I don’t have personal experience with these, I asked another writer to talk about how to deal and interact with people who don’t support your writing goals. That post will be up next week.

          Did I miss any other reasons people don’t support writing? Feel free to add them.

          Liam Dunbar Imagine- You Still Love Him, Don't You?

          Masterlist

          Authors Note- Warning, this is a story of heartbreak as opposed to my usual writing.

          There are things that happen in life, some things are just unavoidable and you get hurt. But nothing hurts more than watching the person you love fall for someone else. They always tell you it’s the chances in life you don’t take that your regret, but your biggest regret was letting yourself fall slowly in love with Liam Dunbar. You told yourself you weren’t going to fall in love, but he made you feel less cynical and you’d always be grateful for that. What you wouldn’t be grateful for is the state that you’re in now, the broken pieces of your heart that sill managed to find a way to love him. And yet behind all of the pain you managed to put on a brave face and act as if you’re happy for him. It’s selfish but you weren’t, you didn’t want to see him hurt as much as you but seeing him thrive with her, was much worse.

          You placed your empty coffee mug on the counter top and picked up your bag as soon as you heard a car pull into your drive. You slipped on your white converse and headed out for another long monotonous day, which is your life. You climbed into the passenger seat in silence and clipped in your seatbelt. “Y/n…” he sighed, as he did every morning. “Brett, please spare me the lecture I’ve had a rough night okay” you shrugged, refusing to look up. “What did we agree on?” he patronised. “I need to at least try to move on” you whined sadly. He noticed by the twinge in your voice, let alone the chemo signals you were giving off that you were in so much emotional pain and it killed him to know there was nothing he could do to help someone, who doesn’t want to be helped. It sounds stupid when you say it out loud; that scrolling through Liam’s and Hayden’s Instagram pictures was enough to get yourself crying to sleep. Seeing them happy didn’t make you angry or bitter, it made you feel immense melancholy. Brett somehow managed to fill some of that void, he was your best friend and you couldn’t help but feel like shit for the way you treated him. When you first started dating Liam it was fun and exciting to watch Liam get jealous and overprotective when you hung out with his natural enemy but you didn’t think of how it was hurting him, being apart of a stupid game you enjoyed with love-struck eyes. “You don’t understand what it feels like” you muttered, knowing he could hear you behind all of your sadness. “You’re right I don’t, but I’ve watched my best friend go through it for the past six months. Not only that, I’ve watched her wallow in her own self piety” he said truthfully. “That’s not fair and you know it!” you snapped, in shock of his honesty. You knew it yourself but you didn’t want to admit it or hear someone else tell you what a complete loser you were being. “Y/n, you need to let him go because you’re not the only person you’re hurting by being like this” he shook his head. “How selfish of me, I feel so much better now, thank you for that beacon of hope” you rolled your eyes. “There you go again, taking it out on the people around you. Me and your other friends have been nothing but supportive of you. God, sometimes you make it so hard to be around you” he said involuntary, followed by a sigh after realising what he said really hurt you. “Pull up here, I’ll walk” you said, already taking off your seatbelt. “Don’t be stupid” he said with a faint laugh. “I’m not joking, fucking pull up” you shouted. He shook his head again and pulled up and within a second you were out of the car and you had begun walking down the street. Brett opened the window and began to apologise and call your name, but you simply ignored him and began to dial someone who was bound to give better advice.

          “Come in” Lydia smiled. You were surprised she was actually at her house for once on a Saturday afternoon. You missed hanging out with her and the pack but things got too hard and complicated after you and Liam broke up, especially after he started dating Hayden. You missed them. You followed behind her into her bedroom, she was like an unbiological sister you just seemed to click with each other. “Malia and Kira will be here soon, we miss having you around” she said with a pout. You didn’t even open your mouth before she spoke again, “Somethings wrong, you’re still struggling to cope with the breakup” she judged accurately. You were going to deny it, but what was the point? You couldn’t cope, there was no point attempting to block it out all of the time. You also couldn’t help but think about what Brett said, he was right, you let the whole situation fuck you up so badly that you didn't appreciate the people trying to help you. You had just about enough time to catch Lydia up on everything that had been going on before the other two arrived. “Y/n!” Kira beamed as she ran in and hugged you. You returned the smile and hug. Malia walked in with a huge grin, which soon dropped after she smelt how upset you were. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly as she pulled you into a hug, it was her own way of showing concern. “You still love him, don’t you?” she asked uncharacteristically sympathetically. You simply dropped your head and nod. “I’m sick and tired of feeling like this” you claimed, your voice shaky and cracked. “I know it feels like the end of the world now, but trust me you’ll move on. But first you need to learn to have fun again” Lydia said, placing her hand on your shoulder. “I don’t need to have fun, I need to forget about Liam” you retort. “You should speak to him” Malia suggested, causing you and Lydia to stare blankly at her. “Absolutely not” you shook your head. “You should, maybe you need closure after how it all ended. Maybe after than you can finally move on” Kira agreed. “Not in a million years” you retaliated and Lydia agreed.

          “I cant do this” you mumbled pacing back and forth. “You can and you’re going to” Malia stated. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Scott asked. You couldn’t answer, you wanted to but had no idea how to fabricate the thoughts in your mind. You couldn’t even answer Scott, how the hell was you supposed to handle Liam? “I feel sick” you wined. “Its now or never” Stiles agreed. Stiles was like a supportive big brother, he wasn’t fond of you and Liam dating in the first place and he just wished you’d get over it, so things could go back to how they used to be between you all. You couldn’t help but feel like you were the sole cause of the drift between you all, your stupid teenage hormones and mixed feelings had to ruin everything. “Here goes nothing” you breathed out, before heading off. “Where is she going?” Lydia asked as she joined with the others. “To find Liam” Kira answered. “You’re kidding!” Lydia raised her voice unintentionally. “We all agreed it was the best thing for her to do” Stiles tried to diffuse. “If she gets hurt, it’s on all of you” she exclaimed, before slamming her books on the table and sitting down with a sulk.

          You turned the corner, between the two school busses, the place Liam first asked you out on a date. He was all sweaty from his Lacrosse game and you were starry eyed from watching him play with the rest of the pack. That sentimental place was now where Liam and Hayden make out between classes and to no surprise, there the two of them were, shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. It took Liam no more than a second to smell your familiar smell and hear your heart beating at an unnatural speed in your chest. When they pulled apart, Hayden had that giddy smile on her face but Liam’s was firm and regretful. Her smile dropped when she realised you standing there, with an awkward look and sad eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later” he mumbled. “Are you sure?” she asked, as if it was the most traumatic thing for him. You didn’t mean to roll your eyes or for her to see you do it. “I’ll catch up” he repeated, after smelling the anger radiate from her. She reluctantly trailed off, after giving you a disapproving look. Hayden wasn’t a bad person, you two just put the barriers up for each other, before giving friendship a chance. You weren’t jealous of her, you just felt stupid for introducing her to Liam, for them to drop you and start dating each other. You walked over nervously, while he stood there biting his lip and not looking at you. “Hey” you said, attempting to break the ice. He gave a small nod, the guilt cutting his vocal cords. You had been waiting for this moment and the time had finally come, and the first thing you chose to say was hey? How pathetic. “I’m not here to beg for an apology or because I’m clinging on to the last shred of hope that we will get back together. In fact, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here. I guess I just need closure for everything that happened” you admitted, which felt so good to say. “Uhm sure, what did you want to know?” he rubbed the back of his neck, he had never been good in awkward situations, but he owed it to you to at least try more than that. “Why did you leave me?” you leant your back against the school bus because your legs suddenly felt weak. “Y/n, come on” he mumbled, he had been avoiding that question for months. “Just tell me, you know yourself you cant cause me anymore emotional pain than you are right now” you said, which sounded more careless than you felt. “I’m not doing this” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in defeat before beginning to walk away. “That’s it Liam, do what you always do and walk away. Its all you’re ever good at” you shouted after him bitterly. He paused for a second, before turning back around to face you for the first time. “I left because I didn’t love you anymore” he shouted without thinking. He winced after hearing your heart break, it sounded like your ribs had snapped in two, but on the surface you looked like any other heart broken teenager. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it-” he began saying, feeling like a complete asshole. “You did mean it, behind every angry outbreak there’s truth. I cant believe I feel like this, for loosing someone who was never really mine” salty tears were already pouring down your face, which you could taste after every word you said. He stared at you blankly, he had no idea he could have done this to someone he had sworn to love and protect forever. “The truth is I should never of cared. But I did care. I cared a lot. And I still fucking care” you wiped the tears with your sleeve, no longer trying to scan his features for signs of remorse. To move on, you needed to put yourself first and stop wishing he would care as much for you as you did for him. “I am so sorry Y/n” he said, tears even welling in his eyes. You used to be best friends before all of this and now look at the pair of you. “Talking to you, brings back so many memories I’ve been trying to forget and I realise now. I realise that I cant let go of them- but I can take that and move on. There’s no point pretending I’m not hurt because I am but maybe that’s what I need” you rambled. “I don’t understand-” he said, confused by your sudden thought. “Someday this pain will be useful and Brett’s right, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. The truth is, I came here hoping to leave with a friendship because I cant let you go and maybe one day we will have that, but for now all I’m going to say is- goodbye Liam” it killed you, but it was liberating getting that off your chest. “What do you mean goodbye?” he asked, he too feared loosing you even though he didn’t show it. You slowly exhaled and cracked a genuine smile for the first time in months. You gave him a sincere pat on the chest before walking away. You weren’t saying goodbye to him, but the memory of what it was. By no means did you get the closer you wanted, but you now knew what you needed to do.

          Two Months Later

          Moving on, the newest chapter in your life. There’s no point in pretending that life is now suddenly filled with rainbows and sunshine, it was hard but as time goes on your heart slowly mends itself. There were some nights were you cried and screamed so hard your body ached and you had to cover your mouth to stop anyone from hearing and there were some were you were happy, for yourself and for Liam. You still thought about him, but in a different way. You missed him but you no longer craved his attention. He taught you why storms were named after people, for the way they can destroy you so easily but also for the beauty of letting them in. You no longer woke up with a dry throat from crying or with a never ending headache but with a smile on your face. You survived heartbreak, one of the deadliest feelings someone can experience and you were proud of that. It may not seem like much to some people but you were beginning to conquer something you never thought you could.

          You picked up your coffee and slipped on your shoes as you exited the house for school. You climbed into the car with a radiating happiness. “Someone’s in a good mood” Brett laughed as he pulled off your drive. “Who wouldn’t be happy on a Monday morning at 8am?” you joked. “I’m glad you’re back, as in the real you and not the total antisocial loser you were being” he claimed, while taking a sneaky sip of your drink while you were looking out of the window. “You don’t even miss her, even a little bit?” you asked. “Not even remotely” he said, not long after he arrived outside of your school. You thanked him, as you did every morning and stepped out of the car. “When are you getting your own licence?” he said, pretending to look at his watch. “You’ll totally miss me when I get my own licence” you retort. “I will” he admitted. “See you later” you smiled, which he returned. You walked over and joined Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia and Stiles at your usual bench in the morning. “I love your top, so cute” Lydia exclaimed, examining your outfit. “Thank you, cute dress” you returned as she stood up to give you a twirl of her outfit. You looked up to see Liam and Hayden walking hand in hand from across the pitch. You smiled and gave a small wave, which shocked Hayden but she returned genuinely, soon after. Liam gave you the look, to show his gratitude for how you were choosing to be. It wasn’t forced, it was natural. You were coming to terms with everything and you were looking forward for what was going to come next or who. Life felt so much better without the negativity you were clouding your vision with, You had the love and support of your friends and with that you could do anything.

          Different to what I usually write, but did you guys like it? Let me know. Requests are closed for the meantime x

          Best Friends Don't Use A Couple Hashtag

          For Day One of NurseyDex Week - Getting Together/Mutual Pining

          Nursey/Dex Week: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7

          (Read on AO3)

          It started the summer between sophomore and junior year. Dex was trying to spend the summer ignoring the fact that he had to start sharing a room with Nursey and ignoring Nursey all together. He was doing a pretty good job of it until he began noticing a guy pop up in Nurse’s social media more and more. His name was Huntington and Dex hated him on principle because of that name.

          Every time he opened up Snapchat it was filled with Nursey and Hunt’s faces using the latest filter. If he tried to open Instagram there would be photos of the latest meal Hunt and Nursey were eating with the tag #Nursington. And forget Facebook. There Dex had to hide posts from Hunt all together because he tagged Nursey in everything. Clearly Nursey had a boyfriend and hadn’t mentioned it to the group or his to be roommate and d-man. Best friends don’t use a couple hashtag after all.

          He found it odd too that none of the guys were asking him about it. Usually fledgling romances were like a drop of blood in the water that sent Holster and Ransom into a frenzy. But somehow the chat was silent and the comments left on posts were innocuous.

          One afternoon Dex opened his phone and was greeted with the sight of Nurse and Hunt at NYC Pride and threw his phone down with a huff.

          “What’s wrong?” his sister asked.

          “Nothing Erin,” he mumbled, looking at the ceiling.

          Swiping her brother phone Erin opened it and looked at the photo of the two men on screen. “See you’re still pining over your friend,” she smirked.

          “I am not pining. I do not like Derek Nurse for the last time.”

          “You do. You know you do. I know because you argue with him a lot. Which means you can’t figure out how to process feelings like a real person and find really weird things to get angry about like that jaywalking story.”

          “He wouldn’t on the grass because it would wet his loafers wet Erin! Who does that!” he exclaimed looking frazzled.

          “Yeah and you weirdly like that about him,” she teased.

          “I hate you.”

          ***

          Keep reading

          anonymous asked:

          Would you be up for Bughead angst? Like maybe the two of them get into a fight over something huge, like he gets jealous of another boy who likes her or Betty feels like they're growing apart because they don't hang out as much/he's not very affectionate anymore and she confronts him about it only for him to argue? That's only if you're up for it! If you are, thank you!

          I’m always down to write anything, I have to warn you though, usually all of my stories end in happy endings. I’m a sucker for a good fairytale ending!

          *****

          People moved on, it happened, it was a natural way of life.

          Betty just never thought jughead would move on, from her.

          It was obvious what was happening, he had fallen out of love with her. He was distant. Cancelling dates, pulling away when she tried to kiss him in public, and almost never returning her texts.

          She racked her brain for hours last night , trying to figure out where it all went wrong. She knew she was difficult, and she could be selfish, lord knows her temper wasn’t as it should be, but jughead always understood, whenever they had a problem, they talked about it.

          The last four weeks had been horrible, school had been getting in the way, jughead had been working on rebuilding his relationship with his father , while Betty’s relationship with her parents was falling apart in front of her eyes.

          She was tired.

          Jughead deserved the world, and if she couldn’t be that for him, it was time to move on.

          She still loved him, god she still loved him, no matter how bad he had been treating her this past month, and because she loved him so much she had to let him go.

          He would find someone else.

          Someone with less baggage, someone who could make him happy.

          Weighing the red and grey flannel in her hands she watched as a tear fell on the familiar shirt.

          He had given her this flannel after he caught her shivering at the drive in. He had walked all the way home in just a black tshirt. She wore that flannel to bed every night.

          One day he caught her all cuddled up in his flannel and smiled

          “That’s my favorite shirt”

          She had tried to give it back, but he shook his head

          “Looks better on you”

          She would give it back today, kind of a sign of closure.

          She had texted jughead and told him to meet her at Riverdale park, it was an emergency.

          Sitting on the cold bench, the sun setting in front of her she couldn’t believe what a beautiful night it was.

          She almost wished for rain, something more fitting.

          Suddenly the beanie wearing boy came into her vision, his frown now a permanent feature on his face.

          “Betty, what’s the matter, what’s the emergency?”

          She patted the seat next to her and smiled sadly

          “Sit down, we have to talk.”

          Taking a hesitant seat, Jughead glanced down at the shirt folded in her hands

          “That’s my shirt, what’s going on?”

          Taking a deep breath, Betty began

          “I’m sorry I can’t make you happy anymore, I’m sorry you’re so angry all the time, and I know it’s partially my fault. I wish that I could make this better but I can’t.”

          Jughead went to interrupt her, his eyes wide

          “Let me finish, what we had was amazing, I’m never going to forget this. I love you. So much. And I know you’re gonna find some gorgeous girl out there, who was meant for you and who makes you happy all the time. I want you to have that, you deserve that. So I’m letting you off the hook.” She placed the folded up shirt in his lap and smiled softly

          “Goodbye Jughead.”

          Suddenly he was standing directly in front of her the shirt wrinkling under his clenched fists.

          “You’re breaking up with me.”

          She took a shaky breathe, she couldn’t remember the last time they were this close

          “It’s for the best, for both of us, you need someone who can make you happy, and I need someone who loves me.”

          He was angry now, she wasn’t sure at what though. Her? Himself? The situation?

          “You think I don’t love you?” He said in a raspy whisper

          She stepped back one step, but he stepped forward keeping her close

          “Jughead…”

          “I love you more than anything in this world. You think I’m not happy? You’re the only thing that makes me happy. Im not losing you. ”

          Betty was taken back by the intensity in his eyes for a second, before she got angry.

          “No. no, you don’t get to act like this, you haven’t been around in a month jughead, I’ve been on my own, you have your own life I get that, but I thought that maybe I was part of that life.”

          His eyes widened at her sharp voice before he exclaimed

          “You are! I’ve been so busy trying to fix everything, trying to make things okay, trying to be better”

          “That you forgot about me” she interrupted
          “I never asked you to fix anything, I love you just the way you are.”

          “You don’t get it Betty! I don’t want to be some loser, gang members son, you deserve more than that for a boyfriend!” He was yelling now

          And she was crying, tears streaming down her face

          “I never asked for more! if the person that you’ve been this last month, is you being “more” I don’t even want it!“

          “It doesn’t matter, I have to change, for you, for my family. It’s my responsibility to be the man you deserve. That’s just how it is.”

          “I DONT WANT THE MAN YOU THINK I DESERVE, I WANT MY BOYFRIEND BACK” Betty screamed into the quiet park silencing jughead instantly.

          Taking a watery breathe, Betty wiped at her tears

          “If this, new person, is who you want to be, then be him. But, the jughead I fell in love with was never afraid to tell me he loved me, or lay around all day watching movies and eating popcorn. Your dad will love that jughead just as much as I do, you don’t have to change who you are, for anyone.”

          Jughead looked at her, taking in her shaking hands and her red rimmed eyes.

          “I ruined this didn’t I?”

          Betty looked up at him, connecting their eyes

          “I don’t know jughead, it can’t go on like this.”

          “It won’t.” He assured her “I’ll fix this.”

          She looked at him as he held out the flannel to her

          She took a deep breathe, weighing her options

          “Please” jughead said softly, his eyes pleading

          She finally reached out and grabbed the flannel, their fingers brushing, she silently thanked what ever god was up there for the fact that the spark was still there.

          Apparently jughead had felt it too because before she knew it she was flat against his chest, the flannel squished between the two.

          She allowed herself to relax in the familiarity of her boyfriends body

          “This is gonna take work”

          She felt jughead nod from above her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

          “I know.”

          "I want to be a popular Tumblr Blog"

          Listen, we ALL want to be a popular Tumblr Blog. I see these amazing artists with 1,000+ notes on even their silly doodles and have astounding characters, stories, and art skills. It makes you feel pretty jealous and you feel like you aren’t good enough, yeah? Well, I know that feel and i’m actually that kind of person myself. I see people’s art like @catyuffie, @nekophy, @bluechocowitz, @angexci, @blogthegreatrouge, and even @loverofpiggies and I can’t help but get a little jealous. But I keep these things in mind and I feel a lot better

          1- Never compare yourself to another artist
          You see your friends who have amazing art abilities and get lots of love from the people around them and you’re over there with 3 notes AT MOST (oh hey that rhymes) and you doubt yourself. “Why can’t I draw that good?” “I wish I could draw that well, but I never will…” Don’t say it! You are your own person and every person has their own signature art style, just like we all have our own fingerprints, it’s what makes us all different and unique! You make what you are able to make, and there will always be some people out there that will like the way your looks, and they’ll give you tips on how to improve!

          2- Practice! Practice! Practice!
          You notice that your friends draw the same thing over and over and over again and it keeps getting better and better and better? It’s because they’re practicing! Practicing can help you improve your art and make you more proud of your own work. You can use a reference and use tricks you know. Also, when you practice things, try posting them and asking for constructive criticism, that way people can see how it looks and give you helpful tips to make it better!

          3- Never underestimate yourself
          You look at your art and you think it’s absolutely terrible, and you have a bunch of people who tell you it isn’t but you don’t believe them at all! Listen, in your years of drawing you can faintly remember there would always be that one kid that would look at what you’re drawing and say “Wow! That’s really cool!” or there would be that one person commenting “That’s amazing!!!”. They aren’t lying. No matter how terrible you think your art is, there will always be that person who thinks you’re fantastic at what you do. There will be some people that even look up to you as an artist! I didn’t think I was that good, but then I saw how many people said they looked up to me and how they commented on my art saying it looked amazing, and I realized that people liked my creations. There will always always always be that person that supports your art and you as a person

          Don’t tell yourself you aren’t good at art, because you’re amazing. Yeah sure some people will say your art isn’t good, but that’s life and the assholes just being assholes. Never compare yourself to someone else, believe in yourself, and keep practicing. Stay amazing and keep trying, don’t give up! ❤❤❤

          JSD’s Rom-Com Challenge

          Hi! This week I hit 4k followers (thank you, thank you!) so here goes nothing! I wanted to celebrate cheesy love stories, so I’m hosting a writing challenge! A list of rules and prompts can be found under the cut. Don’t be afraid to put your writing out there, this is just for fun!

          Keep reading

          Dresden Files Books Rated By The Opening Line
          • Storm Front: "I heard the mailman approach my office door, half an hour earlier than usual. He didn't sound right. His footsteps fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my office door, then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed."
          • Easily one of the weakest in the series. 3/10.
          • Fool Moon: "I never used to keep close track of the phases of the moon. So I didn't know that it was one night shy of being full when a young woman sat down across from me in McAnally's pub and asked me to tell her all about something that could get her killed."
          • Nicely ominous. Thanks to this book, I also keep track of the phases of the moon. Helped me catch a local werewombat. You have no idea how hard it is to put one of them down. 8/10.
          • Grave Peril: "There are reasons I hate to drive fast. For one, the Blue Beetle, the mismatched Volkswagen bug that I putter around in, rattles and groans dangerously at anything above sixty miles an hour. For another, I don't get along so well with technology. Anything manufactured after about World War II seems to be susceptible to abrupt malfunction when I get close to it. As a rule, when I drive, I drive very carefully and sensibly. // Tonight was an exception to the rule."
          • Not bad, per se, but not all that good. It takes too long to get to its point, which makes it not as good of a hook. 6/10.
          • Summer Knight: "It rained toads the day the White Council came to town."
          • This one makes me giggle. 8/10. Good job.
          • Death Masks: "Some things just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water. Orange juice and toothpaste. // Wizards and television."
          • Very relatable. I, too, am no fan of toothpaste in my orange juice. I used to put toothpaste in my orange juice all the time and had no clue why my orange juice tasted so bad. I mean, who knew? 9/10.
          • Blood Rites: "The building was on fire, and it wasn't my fault."
          • There is no need to explain perfection. 15/10.
          • Dead Beat: "On the whole, we're a murderous race. According to Genesis, it took as few as four people to make the planet too crowded to stand, and the first murder was a fratricide. Genesis says that in a fit of jealous rage, the very first child born to mortal parents, Cain, snapped and popped the first metaphorical cap in another human being. The attack was a bloody, brutal, violent, reprehensible killing. Cain's brother Abel probably never saw it coming. // As I opened the door to my apartment, I was filled with a sense of empathic sympathy and intuitive understanding. // For freaking Cain."
          • One of the all time greats of this series. Lovely illustration of how Dresden feels and catches people up on his relationship with his brother really quick. 10/10.
          • Proven Guilty: "Blood leaves no stain on a Warden's grey cloak. I didn't know that until the day I watched Morgan, second in command of the White Council's Wardens, lift his sword over the kneeling form of a young man guilty of the practice of black magic. The boy, sixteen years old at the most, screamed and ranted in Korean underneath his black hood, his mouth spilling hatred and rage, convinced by his youth and power of his own immortality. He never knew it when the blade came down."
          • Dark. Really sets the tone for the book. Also, I'm, like, totally jealous. Blood stains are the worst. 8/10.
          • White Night: "Many things are not as they seem: The worst things in life never are."
          • I know, right? It's, like, I thought this guy who came into work would be just a normal customer and get his stuff and leave, but, instead, he rants about conspiracy theories and shit when I can't tell him to fuck off. 9/10. Good job.
          • Small Favor: "Winter came early that year; it should have been a tip-off."
          • Not bad, but kinda weak. I mean, did he even consider that maybe winter came early because Global Warming is actually a hoax? I mean, it isn't, but couldn't he at least consider the possibility? 6/10.
          • Turn Coat: "The summer sun was busy broiling the asphalt from Chicago 's streets, the agony in my head had kept me horizontal for half a day, and some idiot was pounding on my apartment door. // I answered it and Morgan, half his face covered in blood, gasped, 'The Wardens are coming. Hide me. Please.'"
          • It's just, like, whaaaaaat? Why's Morgan here? How'd he get all bloody? And, like, he even snuck in some nice foreshadowing with the headache. Really well done. 8/10.
          • Changes: "I answered the phone, and Susan Rodriguez said, 'They've taken our daughter.'"
          • Nice and shocking, making you want to read more, but the last book did a similar shocking opening better. 5/10.
          • Ghost Story: "Life is hard. // Dying's easy."
          • Totally relatable. I, like many others, wish for death because life is too hard. Thanks for making me feel better, Harry. 8/10.
          • Cold Days: "Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, monarch of the Winter Court of the Sidhe, has unique ideas regarding physical therapy."
          • One would imagine. I mean, did you hear her TED talk on it? Fascinating stuff. She's an innovator in the field. 7/10.
          • Skin Game: "There was a ticking time bomb inside my head and the one person I trusted to go in and get it out hadn't shown up or spoken to me for more than a year."
          • Don't you just hate it when you have a time bomb in your head? I know I do. But not all of us know bomb defusal experts. We're not all as lucky as you are, Dresden. I had to defuse my time bomb myself. Dick. 4/10.
          Don't we all long for that glorious moment when you show people from your past that they were wrong?

          Back in high school I had a HUGE crush on the “mysterious” guy in the class above me. Let’s call him Tom. He was waaaaaaaaaay out of my league so by some screwed logic I figured I had nothing to lose and started talking to him one day. Lo and behold, we became friends and I started hanging out with his group of friends most days after school. Since I came from a small town almost 10 miles away it was great to have new friends to spend time with, or so I thought.

          As stated I had a huge crush on this guy and it was blood obvious to anyone involved - Tom included. He had already made it clear to me and others that he did not look for a relationship with anyone and this was confirmed by his friends, some of the girls told me that he just had a couple of short relationships during high school and that the girls had been the driving forces behind getting into said relations. Somehow I managed to push my feelings aside far enough to spend time with him as a friend, (God knows how a 17-yearold girl managed that) but I had my angsty, upset and jealous moments for sure…

          And then, somehow, we started to spend more and more time together and on a friends Halloween party he actually asked me if I wanted to date him - as boyfriend/girlfriend. I was on cloud nine for sure and as happily in love as only a teenage girl can be. Until our group of friends found out. Their reaction was to “blame” me, saying I made Tom agree to date me, that it would never last more than a few months at best and then he would get bored with me as he had with the other girls and even so far as to once telling me to break up with him and move back home. I realized later that several of them must have had a crush on him at some point or another and then I showed up… Teenage girls can be brutal.

          Anyway, most of those friendships crumbled as they tend to do, especially reinforced by the dislike from several members of the group. I got on with my life, school ended and I went through a couple of jobs before ending up as a manager at a local restaurant. I was working an evening shift when two of my old high school friends who had been very vocal about my unpopular relationship with Tom (lets call them Maddy and Ellie) walked in and seated themselves at one of my tables. It must have been at least 5 years since I last met them and even longer since we used to hang out together. I took their orders but they kept on looking at me, trying to figure out if and why I was familiar so I decided to help them out.

          “Yeah, you know me. We used to hang out after school.”
          Both of them shines up and smiles at me, that way you do when you meet people you have not seen in years or even thought about at all but still want to be pleasant to as to find out what they are up to now and if its interesting. And then Ellie goes
          “Yes! That’s it! You’re Meenite! We used to be in the park all the time! And you used to date Tom!”
          Oh, that glory, that wonderful glowing sensation of victory that you usually only find in the daydreams of a teenage mind - to have the privilege to be able to experience it for real.
          “No, honey. I am still dating Tom.”

          Petty Revenge: Internet`s best petty revenge stories are here. | credit

          Guy Friends | Daniel Seavey

          “Babe, let’s go hiking later,” Daniel suggests as you both get out of bed.

          “I can’t,” you frown, “I already told Jonah I’d help him with something.”

          Daniel scoffs, “Of course you did.”

          You raise your eyebrows and stare at him. He never gave you very much sass, and it wasn’t starting today. You cross your arms, “Excuse me? Would you like to explain yourself?”

          “Yeah, I would,” he puts his hands on his hips, “You hang out with other guys too much.”

          You shake your head, “Oh, please.”

          “All week I’ve been trying to make plans, but there’s always another guy you promised to hang out with. You’re not single, y/n, I’m your boyfriend.”

          You begin to change into a casual outfit of black jeans and a red hoodie. Tossing Daniels shirt you slept in at him.

          “You can’t leave!” he yells, throwing the shirt on the ground.

          “You can’t tell me what to do,” you storm out of his room, slamming the door. As you walk out you say a quick bye to the rest of the boys, who could see you were angry with Daniel, who didn’t bother to come after you.

          You got into your car and started driving. You don’t know where you’re going, as long as it’s not the Why Don’t We house. Thinking about Daniel the whole drive, you go to Christina’s, praying she was home. Luckily, she was.

          She listened as you spilled what happened this morning. How he was acting completely ridiculous, or so you thought.

          “Well, I don’t think he’s completely wrong,” Christina began, “You do have a lot of guys friends, which is fine, but you hang out with them a ton. Daniel isn’t one to get mad over nothing, so it must really bother him. I think you should just talk about it, and really listen to his side of the story.”

          You sigh, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have left. I should have talked it out with him. Thanks, girl. You’re the best.”

          “No problem. Now go fix things with your man.”

          “Daniel?” you call out once you arrive back at his house.

          “He’s in his room. He told us to leave him alone,” Jack explained.

          You nod and walk to his room. You slowly open the door, surprised he didn’t lock it. Daniel sat on the bed, playing the guitar. He glanced up at you, then went back to playing.

          “Let’s talk about it,” you sit about two feet from him.

          “Where were you? With one of your guy friends?” he huffed.

          You stand up and take the guitar and set it away from him, “Listen, I get that you have a point. I do have a lot of guy friends, but you could talk about this in a better way instead of attacking me. That’s not how communication works.”

          “You ran out this morning, I didn’t think you wanted to talk.”

          “I do now, so could you please listen? I didn’t know it bothered you. You know all the guys I’ve hung out with, you’re friends with them. I mean, Jonah is like your brother. Are you seriously jealous of him?”

          “I’m not jealous of anyone, I just feel under appreciated. I don’t like you going around other guys and barely hanging out with me. Makes me feel like I’m just another guy to you.”

          “Daniel, you have girls cry over you all the time. Girls with social media accounts dedicated to you, and I’m not bothered by it. You kiss your fans on the cheek, and I encourage it. But I can’t have guy friends?”

          “I love my fans to death, but you know it’s not the same kinda love I have for you. You hang out with guys one on one. Guys who are just waiting for you to dump me so they can swoop in and steal you.”

          “That’s not going to happen,” you sit next to him and rest your hand on his back, “I only love you. And that’s not going to change. I promise I’ll make more time for you.”

          He smiles, “Thank you, I would like that very much. I love you, too.”

          “How about we go on that hike later. I can cancel with Jonah, I’m sure he will be fine without me.”

          Daniel hugs onto you and rests his head on yours, “No, you should help him. But I want you all weekend to myself.”

          “Sounds like a good plan,” you grin into his chest.

          anonymous asked:

          hi arc can i ask a question that seems a bit silly even as i write it? how do you keep being so brave about your fanwork? i used to post a lot of fic when i was younger before all the like holier than thou purity politics stuff happened. but the purity politics stuff sort of... made me scared to interact with fandom? like i want to write and post the fics i have ideas for but i'm SCARED and i don't really know how to?? stop being scared i guess? idk i can't really get my thoughts down now sorry

          (scared anon) i just guess i was wondering if you had any advice on like pushing past that fear and just doing fanwork without being scared of how people might react?

          Oh, honey.

          Christ, lemme think about it….

          1. I flat out do not follow any “main” tags. In RT, I never followed #ragehappy. In Borderlands, I never followed #rhack or anything. In HS, I don’t follow any ship tag. So I literally do not see most negativity. This is helpful because people like being dicks in tags and to put their shitty vagueblogging in there, but are often too fucking cowardly to come at you personally.

          90% of the time, my awareness that people resent me for having “””impure””” popular fics comes from friends giving me a heads up that someone is talking shit. And when they do, I block that person.

          2. Relevant to the above: It took me a long time to understand that people resent my fics being popular, not their actual subject matter. It’s a jealousy thing. I have written some filth that never got really popular, and no one gave a shit. It’s only when I start getting a lot of comments and kudos that suddenly I’m the Great Satan. Keeping in mind that bitches be jealous super helps.

          Most recent example: people didn’t start to talk shit about ASAFAF until I started to see fanart based on the story. C’mon.

          3. I genuinely believe in the diversity of stories we tell. Like, gushing gold is a great example of a fic I deeply enjoyed writing and sharing, but that I also knew was not for everyone. But it was for some people.

          When you are writing a subject matter that you are passionate about, understand that other people are going to be passionate about it too. There are people who need difficult or uncomfortable stories told to affirm they aren’t alone, to help work through rare subject matter, to just enjoy in a world that doesn’t offer them much media.

          No story is for everyone, but every story is for someone. Take pride in that.

          4. No, really. Block people. Block anyone who makes you uncomfortable, and never look back.

          I know it’s apparently a Thing, to block someone, then check in on them? I don’t do this. Once someone is blocked, they no longer exist in my universe.

          5. Avoid younger fans. This obviously applies to older fen like me, but broadly speaking, this purity politics culture comes from younger fans attacking older fans, and a lack of understanding that Fandom is a place for a wide group of people with disparate experiences and interests.

          Not all young fans are part of that, obviously, but… if someone young enjoys my stuff, I’m glad. I hope they like it. But I avoid deep discussion and interaction and attempts to befriend me, because I am 27 years old and write porn on the internet and shouldn’t be talking to young folks. If anyone doesn’t understand the logic of that, for my protection and for theirs, that is genuinely not my problem and I’m sure they’ll figure it out later.

          Boundaries: they are important for adults as much as kids. Enforce them.

          6. …

          A lot of it is that I’ve been in fandom for over half my life now. I’ve seen a lot of shit. I’ve been through a lot of shit. (Anyone remember that pissant who tried to report me to the government because I told them to stop harassing me after +6 months of bullshit? lol) I’ve had great fandom experiences and I’ve had ones I would love to hit Undo on.

          There are amazing people in fandom and there are fucking hilariously awful shitheads in fandom. The majority of people are decent, and they enjoy what I do, and if you start making content and sharing it, you will find people who enjoy what you do. There are people who follow me who shoot me out of the blue supportive Asks on bad days, who read my fic even when they don’t know the source material, who encouraged me to write my book and then bought the damn thing.

          The purity police are scary, abusive fuckers. But they are not the majority, and the less you interact with them, the less they can affect you. They want an opponent, they want someone to fight so they can play victim, they want to be the Valiant Warrior Of Purity.

          Ignore ‘em. Make them take their boring pedantic morality play elsewhere.

          ETA: 7. Don’t fight the purity police and don’t try to convince them or win them over. It literally never works. These are people who are in a bad place and you cannot move them from that place. Only they can, when they grow the fuck up. Don’t do it. You will not win, you will expend energy on people who gobble it up to fuel their shitstirring and vagueblogging, and they will just know they can successfully antagonize you.

          Take that annoyance and frustration. Channel it into writing more rad shit. 

          .

          I hope this helps at all, anon. Remember, also, that the AO3 is your friend, and you can keep your tumblr and your AO3 a little bit separated. That can help.

          z-hard  asked:

          Hello! I actually don't have anything specific that I want because I basically pretty content with anything you write! But maybe anything about my precious son Takao? Either Midorima's evil twin/7284's PoV of what made him interested in him (thought I presume it would be little disturbing) OR the more light-hearted one like Kageyama's PoV of his newly friendship with Takao. But ultimately, anything with Takao would be fine ^o^ Thank you so much!

          When Takao Kazunari pulls him into a game of “volley-basketball,” Kageyama doesn’t really think too much about it. He’s still reeling a little by what happened at the Special Diet, and he’s not entirely sure how he should be acting around the Aoba Johsai team. He knows he owes Oikawa big for this one, and there’s certainly some…mixed feelings there… but he’s not entirely sure how he should act around Kindaichi and Kunimi, who also came to show their support.

          He really, really doesn’t want to feel like he owes them anything.

          “Heads up!” Takao shouts, tossing the ball at Kageyama, who immediately sets it on instinct.

          Takao laughs, “Oh man, did you do that as a reflex? You were totally zoning out a minute ago!”

          “Were you trying to hit me in the head?” Kageyama asks suspiciously.

          “Of course not,” Takao says, whistling innocently.

          *

          “So what’s with you and turnip head?” Takao asks after their current round comes to an end. “You keep glaring at each other.”

          Kageyama shrugs, not wanting to get into it with someone he just met. “We went to middle school together.” He scowls. “Middle school kind of sucked.”

          “Oh man, tell me about it,” Takao says. “Middle school is the worst.” He doesn’t ask anymore questions, and Kageyama appreciates that.

          *

          They exchange numbers by the end of the day at Takao’s insistence, and Kageyama isn’t expecting to ever talk to this guy again. Takao laughs a lot, and Kageyama has never known what to do with good natured people. But somehow it doesn’t surprise him as much as it otherwise might have when Takao does end up texting him, and emailing him, and suddenly he has a penpal in Tokyo and life is very strange.

          *

          “Green’s boyfriend?” Hinata asks, once he notices Kageyama texting. Kageyama just stares at him blankly. “Midorima,” Hinata clarifies.

          “Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

          Hinata scrunches his nose up in thought. He’s clearly confused, instead of jealous (like someone else might be, when finding out their boyfriend had prolonged email exchanges with some other guy). “What do you guys even talk about?”

          Kageyama just shrugs. “Our games, mostly.” The only thing they really have in common is the fact that they’re both dating Miracles. But even that experience is so vastly different it’s not like they could even compare. Kageyama’s not even sure how they talk so often, but they do.

          “Weird,” Hinata says, and then shrugs the whole issue aside.

          It is weird, Kageyama agrees silently.

          *

          When Midorima and a few of the other Miracles visit Hinata, Kageyama tries to leave them alone. He figures, some things can really only be shared between them—the ones who were in Teiko together, and it’s really best to let have their privacy.

          Takao must agree, because he drags Kageyama away and demands they go sightseeing. Which is all well and good, up until they run into Kindaichi and Kunimi, who are out shopping. The three Kitagawa Daiichi alumni all stare awkwardly at each other, and if Kageyama was by himself, he’d probably pretend he didn’t see the other guys and the other guys would have probably gone along with it.

          “Takao Kazunari,” Takao introduces himself. He’s wearing his Shutoku uniform, so it’s obvious he doesn’t go to Karasuno, which explains Kunimi’s question, “How do you know Kageyama?

          “We dated in middle school,” Takao says brightly, before Kageyama can respond.

          “You—you did not!” Kindiachi says hotly. “You didn’t go to Kitagawa Daiichi!”

          “Nope, it was a long distance thing,” Takao says.

          “Kageyama was not dating anyone then,” Kunimi says.

          “You didn’t tell them about your adorable boyfriend?” Takao says good-naturedly outraged, “He was so shy back then! And such an adorable stud, I really should have locked this one in when I could.” Takao then launches into such a convincing narrative about their long-distance middle school romance Kageyama almost forgets for a second that it never happened.

          *

          “What was the point of that?” Kageyama asks. Kunimi and Kindaichi had walked away scowling, and that was pretty satisfying, but he’s not sure why Takao did it.

          Takao shrugs. “I told you I had a rough time during middle school. There was a time when it was easy to pretend I had a long-distance boyfriend, just so people—well, just so some people knew I’d moved on and they couldn’t get to me, I guess. I just thought maybe you’d benefit from having an imaginary ex-boyfriend too.”

          Kageyama thinks about this, and it occurs to him that having an imaginary boyfriend might have actually been a good coping mechanism back then, had it occurred to him at the time. “Thanks,” he says, a little awkwardly.

          “Anytime. Ooh! I’m totally going to tell Shin-chan and Hinata we used to date, that would be amazing!”

          Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Hinata would never believe you.”



          A/N: Thanks friend!! I’m so glad you submitted a prompt =D I wanted to write something lighthearted so I chose your second prompt (since anon-friend also wanted to see this story, it helped tip things in favor of this one, so thanks anon-friend!!) and yet somehow it ended up slightly angsty anyway. I once came up with an idea for a story I didn’t end up writing (and most likely never will) where Kageyama and Takao had faked-dated each other in middle school, so this was a slight homage to that story I never wrote. Thank you both!!! =D

          batkray  asked:

          I love yuuram so much😍😍😍. I want more canon about yuuram if you don't mind . And the novel end or still released ?

          Hello fellow yuuram fan!

          I’m glad you’re enjoying my yuuram posts ^^

          In regards to yuuram in the novels, I’ve only done till novel 14 ( 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13|14| ) there’s some more goodies in 15; but 16 and 17 have very few yuuram, mainly because the two are in different places.

          There are nonetheless many wonderful side stories, like misepan 2, do you want an exorcism, and many other yuuram stories for you to read in the same place where you can find the novels. My suggestion is read them all.

          All the main novels have been translated (there’s one gaiden that’s missing).
          The novels have not ended yet, but have been on hiatus for 7 years. We’re always waiting for a new one to be released. There’s not much one can do but support the series and keep waiting.

          There’s some more information in regards to the interpretation of the novels here, and here. Yuuri and Wolfram’s daily routine, here.

          But if we’re talking about general aspects of the yuuram relationship, there are five main points that are very important to me:

          1. Novel 9, chapter 9. When Yuuri believes Wolfram is dead and reacts in a way he has never done before or since (let’s recap: Gunter, Conrad, and Josak all ‘died’ in front of him at some point). With Wolf, he loses it. He turns into the maou. He swears vengeance. And then, even though Wolfram is okay and Yuuri knows this; Yuuri acts permanently scarred by this situation (all the way to novel 17 where he mentions it again and how much Wolfram ‘dying’ troubled him to that very day). 

          2. Novel 9, chapter 9: There’s a scene that can be interpreted as them kissing. But the way the scene is narrated makes it impossible to tell if they did or not. I analyzed this scene here.

          3. Novel 14 chapter 7: The bed scene. Since the scene where Yuuri is ‘honest about his feelings’ , ‘because he doesn’t have the strength to pretend anymore’ is cut short, we don’t know what happened next.  In ‘From Shin Makoku with love” he will complain to Conrad about Wolfram not sleeping with him in the boat (this is because of what Gunter did to him in that room ). So after the bed scene (and we see this again in CD71, which continues the novel canon) Yuuri wants Wolfram in his bed, and complains if he’s not there. We do know that much.

          4. Misepan 2 (post novel 17) : In Misepan 2, Yuuri wanted to cover Wolfram’s chest and didn’t want anyone to see it acting very jealous. (He couldn’t even understand himself why he was so jealous). After that he says one of the most wonderful lines ever (some lines for context)

          (Wolfram) “If I was in trouble, and I was missing something important. And you had one that was exactly the same ….“ 

          (Yuuri) “I’d lend it to you, of course”

          I thought about this, literally with my hands on his chest. In fact, with my hand, that was pressed against his chest, I could feel that the speed of my partner’s and my heartbeat was the same. Anyone would get blood rushing to their brains when they’re seriously thinking about something. When I could calm down a little, I let out a small sigh.

          (Yuuri) “Or rather, when it comes to things that I can give you, I would give you anything, Wolf.”

          So in Misepan 2, he promises to give Wolfram anything he wants AND says that he and Wolfram feel the same for each other. Aight.

          5. Do you want an exorcism? (post novel 17): Overall, this is a wonderful story that foreshadows how Yuuri’s soul/memory problem will be fixed. But there’s one line here that makes all the difference in the world.

          I remember that right before I read this story, there was a conyuu fan claiming that Yuuri didn’t say that Wolfram was beautiful because he liked him, but simply because he was stating Wolfram was good looking…. 

          And lo and behold! Takabayashi-sensei seemed to be aware of this interpretation and wanted to destroy it, which is why she wrote yet another wonderful line for Yuuri, this time, it’s an inner monologue (in italic):

          And because of that rich VARIETY in the configuration, mazoku is more an ethnicity than a race.

          You have from kotsuhizoku, kotsuchizoku, and bone fish who are living creatures, even though they are just bones, to the seasonal migrating tribe of half-humanoid, half-fish maidmer princesses. As for the humanoid ones, there are regular looking ones like me or Conrad, but there are also some who are super beautiful like Günter or Wolfram…………. as for the last one, this is just a little bit of my own personal bias, but it makes no difference if he’s beautiful or not.

          So finally he said it! Wolfram is beautiful, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if he’s beautiful or not, he likes him all the same. That phrase is really important, because he has spent LONG LONG paragraphs in the novels describing Wolfram and his beauty in poetic ways… saying things like  ‘after all this time, I should be used to it, but omg! He’s so gorgeous I wanna die!’ (I’m paraphrasing XD) and now, bam! ‘Yeah, he’s super hot, but it doesn’t matter.’

          This is one of my favorite phrases, Yuuri saying he doesn’t care what Wolfie looks like. 

          So there! My top 5 Yuuram moments/stories!


          anonymous asked:

          Have you ever considered doing more OOTP~HBP hinny fics? I just love the cute pining and everything (not to mention just that Hogwarts setting) hahaha I don't mind slight au, ofc. Also if you have any recs for something like that, I'm all ears :D

          I have!  I’ve never really gotten a solid idea for something though, so I haven’t written it.  Maybe something about the sunlit days :} or pining HBP Harry…I just need a head canon first, but I’ll mull this over.  Maybe I can make one of my recent prompts fit it.

          As for fics I’ve read, I can’t think of many but I found this rec and this one from @read-a-hinny-fic, plus went through some of my favorites and found these:

          Fluffy Firsts: Tales of H&G’s first kiss by MrIntel

          Summary: A collection of short, fluffy, sometimes angsty stories that chronicle various ways in which Harry and Ginny could kiss. These were written for those who have  read any stories lacking in a good snog. So if you feel bereft, come here to get yo

          Untitled by bigquidditchhero

          Prompt: Ginny and Harry early relationship adorableness?

          Untitled by sunlitfirewhiskey

          Prompt: hbp hinny would be great(there’s never enough of those)

          “Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, laughing with her, walking back from practice with her…”

          Untitled by ladyknightley

          Prompt: Can you write some about harry and Ginny during HBP during the time after ginny and dean broke up but before harry and Ginny kiss in the common room

          Twenty-Two Days by mardy-bummm

          Summary: “While he bumbles about, making a beautiful fool of himself, Ginny feels sick all the time. She catches him with a faraway look in his eye one dismal afternoon in the common room, and her stomach twists itself so tightly she can scarcely move, because she knows who he is thinking of, day dreaming of, and it is not her.” One missing moment for each sunlit day together.

          Green Eyed Monster (aka Ginny is Tired) by somethingvaguetodo

          Prompt: anon requested Dean/Cho/Romilda’s reactions to Harry and Ginny during HBP, and I wrote all three as drabbles connected by something that vaguely resembles a plot. I don’t really see Dean and Cho as jealous here, more as contemplative on the differences in their own relationships. Enjoy!

          Untitled by ginnydear

          Prompt: Can you write a Drabble about half blood prince hinny

          As always, if anyone has suggestions, please message me and I’ll share them!