they just float away

i’m just imagining that, after the ballon squad and Even make up again, Elias comes up to his mum and tells her “the boys are going to come over tonight,” and then he hesitates a moment, a shy smirk darting over his face, “and can you maybe cook shishbarak?” and his mother wonders why, because usually the boys aren’t /that/ keen on it and she hasn’t cooked it in ages, and then Elias looks up at her, the smile still darting over his face, “it’s the 6 of us.” and Elias’s mother just /knows/

and when Even is finally over, she pulls him into a tight hug and Even feels all the tension, all the hurt he harboured all the time float away and he’ll just smile at her and nod and then Elias takes him by the hand and they’ll all listen to music and they’re laughing and catching up on each other

and when it’s dinner time, and Even sits down-on his place, the place he always had when he was over at the Bakkoush’s place- mamma Bakkoush places a plate of shishbarak in front of Even and whispers a “welcome back” and Even has his second home back, he has it back.

2

“We both look around us. I don’t think we’re in space; I can breathe just fine. And I don’t feel like floating away—though I am teetering on the edge of hysterical. So much power. So many stars. My mouth tastes like smoke. “Are you holding back at all?” I ask him.

“Not consciously,” Snow says. “Is it too much?”

“No. It’s like you completed the circuit,” I say, gripping his other hand. “I feel kind of drunk, though.”

“Drunk on power?” he asks. ― Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

Crash

@talortut​ asked:  Hi! I love your blog <3 If you’re still taking requests, I would love to see some sick/hurt/exhausted/whatever Lance with the line “You’re gonna crash" from the starters. :)

((Thank you for the prompt SOMEHOW THIS TURNED INTO A 2400K LANGST/ KLANCE FIC BUT LMAO))

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I am up for headcanon with short Keith but at same time being heavy due garlan genetic. Like Lance is super tall but at same time light. (I took this from scene when paladings were together bathing, and when drying came, Lance had to hold Hunk, while Keith was just standing there while poor Pidge floated away due strong fanning)

Keith: Honestly a normal height, all of his friends are just Tall Assholes. However, he is a stubborn and unyielding as a mountain.

Lance: One of the Tall Assholes, obviously a solid young man but he’s more like “Hey I will dodge every problem by bending like The Matrix lmao.” Will offer some resistance, but also allows self to be pushed back a lil just so he can regroup.

From this I can conclude that Klance is literally ‘an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.’

anonymous asked:

Klance hand holding scene> kallura in space scene

Keith and Lance held hands despite not really needing to and smiled at each other fondly, whereas Keith and Allura held hands out of necessity so she wouldn’t float away and their faces were just like “okay this is awkward and uncomfortable but kinda necessary so oh well” LMAO.

A Far Away Infinity

This fic idea was just floating around in my head for a while and I finally wrote it. It will probably be around four or five parts. Let me know what you think!


Part 1 // Maybe it’s You and Me? //

The museum was busy for a weekday, Claire thought. She would know as she visited the museum at least once a month one her days off from the hospital. People bustled around her in hushed whispers around the gallery, gazing at the art hanging on the walls.

Claire stood back from the cluster of people, readjusting her sunglasses on the top of her head and squinting as the small text box next to the painting instructed to do. Art was one of her favorite things, though she had no creative ability whatsoever. Science was more her style, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t spend her days admiring others’ labor of love.

Museums were quiet and evoked a sort of peace in her, she had found. In contrast to the hectic ER, the museum juxtaposed the energy in her professional life. She would get lost in a gallery, tracing the footsteps of others and observing the other guests as much as the art on display.

Having been through all galleries three times, she decided it was time for coffee. Black and strong. It was a treat she always looked forward to at the end of her visit. A nice place in the museum café, looking out at the streets with a book for the next few hours.

She walked down the corridor leading to the main lobby of the museum, pulling out her phone and glancing at the lock screen.

Frank Randall

Just landed. Talk to you tonight. 

She typed out a quick response and pocketed the phone again. Frank was on a trip to London for the weekend. He usually came along to museums with her, though he preferred the historical museums more than the modern. 

They had been dating for the past three years, and a little part of Claire loathed to admit that she preferred going to the museum without him.

She loved Frank. She really did. He took care of her and loved her, but Claire couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Or was she being unrealistic? They had a solid love, a comfortable partnership. Dependable. Frank had mentioned marriage more than once, he being eight years older than her 28 years. He was ready, but she wasn’t. 

Why?

Sighing, she glanced around the small café at the seats available and sighed again when there was a man in a beanie sitting in her usual spot. She shrugged her jacket tight around her in frustration and moved to grab her coffee, all the while glaring at the face hidden in their laptop.

 Grumbling to herself, she sat her purse on the table behind her usual, hoping the man would leave soon so she could snag it.  Her spot had the perfect natural lighting for reading and the one she currently sat at was uncomfortably close to the rubbish bin. 

Cracking open her book, she began to lose herself once more in “Wuthering Heights” and sipped her hot coffee.

Immersed in the world of Catherine and Heathcliff, she neglected to notice her phone buzzing until it rang for probably the third time.

JAMIE FRASER flashed on her screen with the photo of them together on the estate of his family’s home. She loved that picture. Faces pressed together, smiles on their faces from the crazy wind whipping their hair around, and the green valley in the background.

Quickly, she tapped the screen and held the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” 

“I was beginning to think ye were ignoring me.”

The sound of his voice made a ridiculous smile spread on her face and her toes curl.

“No, not ignoring you. I was reading and didn’t hear the phone,” she laughed. “What’s up?” 

“Can’t a guy call his best friend?” 

“Oh, I’m your best friend? I thought that was Ian?”

He laughed. She missed his laugh. “Ian’s my brother-in-law. It doesn’t count.” He paused for a moment, “What are you doing?”

She glanced up and noticed the the man had left and her table was vacant. Scrambling, she put the phone into the crook of her neck and gathering her purse, coffee and book. “Just reading a little. Boring, you know me.”

Triumphantly, she deposited her stuff on the table and sighed as she sat down, settling in for another long haul. “What, are you coming home from the gym?” 

He liked to call her on his way home after a work out to pass the time and chat. Though, it was usually a lot earlier where he was. Time differences were a bitch.

“No. I’m rather annoyed though,” despite the statement, she could hear him smiling.

“Oh, about what?” She inquired, taking a sip of her now cold coffee.

“This girl just stole my table,” he said with a huff.

She almost dropped her cup. Without being obvious, she tried to scan the room. He’s not here, you’re being ridiculous, she thought to herself, but still, her eyes searched.

“Well, go steal it back,” she said, a little breathless. She hoped he didn’t hear it.

“Alright,” he laughed and simultaneously, she felt two hands clamp onto her shoulders. The familiar feel of them meant she didn’t need to check, so she turned and threw herself into his arms. 

“Jamie!”

He hummed into her hair, “Well, hello there,” he chucked, wrapping his arms around her tight. She remembered how they felt when he held her against his chest and when he carried her in his arms, and when he pinned her down to the be– 

“Happy to see me?” He interrupted her memories while stepping back to look at her.

“Of course, but why aren’t you in America?” 

She took a step back from his embrace with regret. His denim jacket smelled like heaven and she wanted to breath in the scent all day until she got drunk off it.

“I just came for a visit. I’m heading to Lallybroch in a few days, but I wanted to see you.”

An ear-to-ear smile spread on her face and she felt it flush. He smirked and wrapped an arm around her, grabbing her stuff off the table and leading her towards the exit.

 “Let’s go,” he said, his nose accidentally grazing her temple. 

Gathering her thoughts, she made a few inches of space between their bodies, shrugging out of his arm. Don’t get close, her brain warned. Not again. You won’t recover a second time. 

~Five Years Earlier~ 

Tonight, the sky was lit with a smattering of stars that illuminated the walk to the pub. The inside glowed like a snow globe, a little bubble from the harsh Scottish weather. It would be cozy inside with multiple fires burning and some good company.

It was Jamie’s 23rd birthday tonight and she was here was to help him ring in the new year of life, along with a few other close friends from uni. It was also a premature goodbye party as graduation was approaching fast and soon they would go their separate ways into the real world.

As she walked in, rubbing her gloved hands together and sighing from the sudden embrace of warmth, she immediately felt eyes on her. She didn’t need to look around from hanging her scarf and coat up to know that it was Jamie’s eyes looking at her. She always knew what his gaze felt like. A spark of adrenaline, warmth and awareness was the recipe and she found it intoxicating.  

They had met as freshman and were close ever since. There had been an attraction since the beginning, but nothing ever happened between them. He was her best friend and vise versa, but he had had a high school sweetheart, Laoghaire, and he had dated her the first two years of uni. When they broke up ­–which everyone saw coming– Claire had already been dating André, a transfer student from Spain. Their relationship was rocky at best and lasted the better part of last year, but quickly ended after he moved back to Spain. 

 But now, since the first time they had met, they were both single. Though, Claire felt sure that friends was all they were destined to be.

“Ah, there she is! And late, who would have thought?”

Smiling, she shook her head and butted her shoulder against Jamie as she took the vacant stool next to him. “You’re lucky I came at all, bastard. I do have an exam in two days.” 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, which made her heart skip, and wrapped an arm tight around her. He poured her a beer from the pitcher the table had been sharing and raised a glass towards her. “Now, WE DRINK!”

“Ayes” were exclaimed around the table, from Rupert, who had already looked drunk to Gellis, who looked more than annoyed with him, to Angus, Willie and a few other faces ready to get pissed as Rupert was putting it. 

“Cheers, birthday boy,” she clicked her glass against his.

“Cheers,” he murmured, not taking his piercing blue eyes off hers as he took a sip.

 Warmth pooled in her belly, but she fought it away with a gulp of cold beer and enjoyed the rest of the night without any feelings complicating things.


“SHE WANTED ME, MAN! BERDAAAAA! COME TO ME!” Rupert stumbled drunkenly while Jamie and Angus tried to shuffle his huge body into a cab.

“She didna want ye, Rup,” Jamie struggle to say under his weight. “She just wanted ye to leave her be. Yer drunk, man. You’re going home.”

Rupert glared at him while Angus got in the cab and pulled on him with all his might. Between Jamie’s shoving and Angus’ pulling, Rupert finally managed to get himself in.

Right before Jamie shut the door, Rupert pulled on his collar while looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and whispered something to Jamie that made him turn bright red. 

Glancing away nervously, she pulled out her phone and pretended to type something out while the door closed and started to drive away.

“Do ye want me to call you one, Sassenach?”

“Um,” she glanced up at him as he looked down at her. Damn that poker face. She could never tell what he was thinking, but she hoped that he couldn’t see through her glass face at that moment. 

The wind whipped around them, chilly for May. She didn’t want the night to end, to not see him again until next week after finals were over. And then what? Where would they be?

Time seemed to be slipping away too fast for her to catch it and it made her palms sweaty and her heart race.

“Hm?”

He moved a step closer to her to block the wind while she decided what to do next. She wasn’t drunk enough to say anything rash, but maybe had just enough buzz to do something daring. 

He rubbed a hand down her sweater to warm her. A friendly gesture. Did he only see her as a friend? 

Well, if he rejected her, she could just joke it off as her having to much to drink tomorrow. Or she felt bad he had no one to kiss on his birthday.

“Claire, do you want me to –”

She cut off his question with her lips.

He jumped slightly as if the feel of her kiss was the last thing he ever expected, ever imagined in that moment. He was motionless underneath her hands. Still as a statue. 

Gently, she released his top lip with the upmost reluctance, stepping down and looking at his unreadable face.

She knew he could read her own face in that moment. Her eyes were wide and lips parted still. She licked her bottom lip and his eyes watched the motion like a hawk.

Taking a step back even further, she pushed the hair from her face and looked down at her feet.

“You don’t have to say anything, Jamie. I’m sorry,” she stuttered and fumbled for her phone in her pocket while he still gawked at her.

 “I’ll just,” she motioned back to the bar. “I’ll call a cab.” 

She turned sharply and wondered if she should stumble to make it seem like she was drunk for her alibi tomorrow. 

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, watching it form a cloud in front of her. Caught up in her own humiliation, she didn’t hear his footsteps until she felt his touch.

 Before she realized what had happened, she found herself against the cold brick of the bar, out of sight, in the dark with Jamie’s lips pressed urgently against hers. 

Gasping into his mouth, she did nothing as one arm snaked around her waist to pull her body tight against his. She felt his other hand weave into her hair, pushing her beanie off and gripped her hard. Her own hands dangled at her side as his lips and tongue urged her mouth open to him.

He pulled back to look at her, gasping for breath as if he had just run a marathon. His lips were red and swollen from her kisses, a curl of red dangled in front of his face and his eyes were heartbreakingly blue. The earlier mask was gone and all she saw was urgent hope. She had never seen him more beautiful. 

“Are you drunk?” He asked, looking carefully into her eyes. 

“No, are you?” 

“No,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, then cupping her cheek in his palm.

They starred at each other for a long beat, both unaware of what to do next.

It’s time to be brave, Beauchamp.

She licked her lips again and took a deep breath. “Maybe you can call that cab?” 

He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes flickered away from her as he shuffled his feet.

“Ok,” he cleared his throat and patted his pocket for his phone, eyebrows drawn together in either confusion or disappointment. Maybe both.

She smiled a little and snagged a finger into one of his belt loops, pulling him back against her. He jerked in surprise and look at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t find the missing piece to. 

“But how about it only goes to your place?”

Continue here

phil lester sits criss-cross applesauce atop a world of his own creation and smiles. he stands in scuffed shoes and cares steady, holds consideration in gentle palms and offers it like the worst kept secret. jokes, delicate and airy, translucent flower petals and lavender blush and making the world a bit brighter. well meaning words settle whisper quiet into hearts, moulding them into something better, something softer. the rosy brightness of adoration blooms steady behind his eyes and glows for something good.

phil lester sits on his old bedroom floor and tells a camera about his day. ten years later he performs his last show on a worldwide tour, best friend by his side and tucks memories laced in silver and gold in his back pocket for safekeeping. he stumbles and a million hands reach out to balance and propel him forward. happy screams and photos and tweets and art and unadulterated love put down roots in his chest. vines creep across his ribcage and beat in a rhythm only he can hear, safecomfortablewarm. he locks it there, vivid and precious.

phil lester smiles, sunlit and breathtaking, the turn of his lips smeared on and dripping joy like a fingerpainting. he inhales colour and light and sound and exhales creativity, his fingers itch for something just out of his reach. mind floating away, barely there clouds dancing and wispy, and lying back among them and dreams about flying. determination is sharp in his veins and laces through his lungs like string tugging him along, do this make that write this down plan this out. add another rung and climb higher. he twists lovely things with clumsy fingers and adds another line to the autobiography titled how to make the stars appear dim next to this.

phil lester looks at the sky, twinkles wistfully and wonders if he could be up there. he doesn’t realise he’s been flying for years.

She calls herself Wild and no body can figure out if shes trying to keep herself safe or get herself taken. She calls herself wild and covers herself in iron. When it rains she dances in an iron circle, wet dress clinging to decorations. She’s open and friendly, and as time goes by she trades iron for silver and silver for gold. She is followed by an invisible wind, and it seems like at any point she could just float away. She still wears iron on her wrists  and around her waist, and she smiles like a golden beam of sunlight as she’s lead away by a giggling group of sprites.

[x]

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 23

Simon

We’re not supposed to have food in our rooms.  It’s one of Watford’s most ignored rules.  It’s never enforced, and if the rooms themselves have anything to say about it, they tend to keep their mouths shut.

           Nearly everyone I’ve talked to has some sort of stash in their wardrobe or under their bed.  Agatha loves her sherbet lemons, and Penny has a seemingly endless supply of licorice hidden in a locked cupboard.  Only she knows the whereabouts of the key, assuming she’s telling the truth and there is a key at all.  As for me, I keep at least two mint Aero bars tucked away at all times, though it seems no matter where I hide them, Baz always manages to find them.  Further evidence of vampiric senses, if you ask me.

           Baz is more of a bring-food-from-the-dining-hall-into-the-room kind of person than a secret stash person, at least I’ve never seen any evidence of a stash.  I have to wonder what sort of things Baz would keep hidden away.  Rats maybe, still alive to keep their blood warm for when he gets peckish.  But then again, I would probably have noticed something like that.

           I don’t know how he always manages to get food up to the room unnoticed, but I also know he’s on a first-name basis with Cook Pritchard, so maybe he gets special privileges.

           When he appears in the door this evening, tall and silent as ever, he’s holding a steaming mug of tea.  I don’t say anything about it, I know better at this point. He’ll just snap at me.

           He crosses the room and sets the mug down on his nightstand, dropping down to his bed and uncurling to his back.  I raise an eyebrow at him, stretched out like a cat. “What’s with you?” I muse.

           He throws a glance my way.  “What?”

           “I dunno, you’re just being… weird.”

           “Thank you for your opinion, Snow, it’s entirely uncalled for as usual.”

           I roll my eyes.  “Forget I said anything.”

           “I already have.”

           I turn back to my textbook with a scowl.  Serves me right for trying to start casual conversation, though maybe I was a bit rude about it.  At least I can say I tried.

           Baz lays there on his bed for another moment or so, staring up at the ceiling, breathing slowly and deeply like this is the first time he’s properly filled his lungs in weeks.  I glance at my watch.  I’m supposed to meet Penny in the library to study in half an hour, I don’t need to go just yet.

           When Baz stands, he takes a detour on his way to the bathroom to reach over and flip my book out of my hands.

           “What the hell is wrong with you?” I call after him, but he responds simply by slamming the door in my face.

           Classic Baz.  Simple, stupid, but effective.  Like a playground bully.

           I wonder if he gets any actual joy out of it.

           The heat of my anger is already fading, but it still frustrates me that he’s been getting away with this kind of abuse all our lives and nothing I do ever seems to deter him.  It’s like he’s a giant and I’m a pissed-off ant, biting and crawling and trying to hurt him, only to be flicked away by a giant indifferent finger.

           His mug on the bedside table catches my eye, steam still curling off the tea.  He hasn’t taken a sip yet, which is surprising.  Usually he drinks the stuff practically straight out of the kettle, like it isn’t scalding his entire throat on the way down.  Maybe it’s not, maybe that’s some obscure vampire thing. Or maybe he’s just a prat that wants to look tough.

           The lightbulb that goes off in my head is almost audible as I watch the steam dance above the mug.

           Grabbing my wand from the sheets beside me, I stand from my bed as quietly as I can and tiptoe across to Baz’s nightstand, wincing with every creak from the floorboards.  The tea is that perfect smooth colour, brown and soft with cream and sugar.  Sparing a fleeting glance at the bathroom door, I dip my wand down so that the tip just barely breaks the surface of the tea, sending ripples floating away from the intrusion.

           Needs more salt,” I murmur in as soft a voice as I can manage, pushing the crackle of magic from the base of my neck down through my wand arm and into the tea.

           “What was that, Snow?” Baz calls from the other side of the door.  There’s a sudden splash of the sink.

           “I didn’t say anything, twat,” I call back, carefully bringing my wand over my mouth and letting the stream of droplets fall onto my tongue.  It’s flowers and cream and… salt.  Definitely salt.

           I smirk as I return to my bed.  Mission accomplished.

           When Baz re-emerges, I pull my textbook closer so he can’t knock it away again.  I try to look appropriately engrossed.  He doesn’t pause at the door, just goes straight back to his bed, and though I can’t see his face in my periphery, it seems as though he doesn’t suspect anything.

           Needs more salt isn’t a proper spell, per say.  More of a charm.  Penny says that spells occur when the words play the biggest role.  They are usually well-known sayings or lyrics, things that carry a little bit of their own magic, which makes them the easiest for beginning mages to master.  Charms are different, harder to control.  The power of a charm doesn’t lie in the words but in the intent.  The magic comes entirely from the mage.  Often charms come out as accidents, when something is said with so much feeling that magic simply slips in.

           Penny is quite good at charms, at putting magic into whichever words she chooses.  She insists that anything can be a charm with enough magic.

           As Baz reaches for his tea, I can’t help but watch.

           I sure hope Penny is right.

           Baz raises the mug to his lips and takes the first sip.

           His features freeze like he isn’t quite sure how to arrange them.

           After a beat he lowers the cup and stares at it like it’s a puzzle, his brow beginning to furrow.

           He takes another thoughtful sip, and this time the tiny curl of his lip betrays a hint of disgust.

           I make sure to be staring back down at my book when he turns his gaze on me.  I feel it burn into the top of my head, and the burn spreads to my cheeks as I try not to crack.

           I can still feel his eyes on me as he takes a long, pointed drink from the mug.

           Prat.

           I glance back at my watch.  It’s still too early, but Penny will probably be in the library already, and I don’t know how long I can handle Baz’s stare.

           I close my book and stuff it in my bag, wearing what I hope is a neutral expression and not a beet-red blush.  I stand from my bed and slip into my shoes. I see him take another sip.  When I look at him, he’s still watching me, and his face is surprisingly clear for someone drinking salted tea out of spite.

           I’m not fully sure which one of us is the winner here.

           I’m halfway out the door when I decide to break the tension.

           “April Fool’s,” I state like it’s a simple good-bye before I shut the door.

           I’m two stairs down as he yells “IT’S NOT EVEN FUCKING APRIL YOU TWAT!”

Struggle of a Long Distance Relationship•Part 1

It’s really hard when you’re in a long distance relationship. You don’t get to meet them face to face, you don’t get to hear their voice all the time because both of you or either one of you have busy schedule. That’s when you tend to miss the person so badly wishing you could see him in real life or through Skype even if it’s just for a few minutes. Because I believe once you get to see them or hear their voice through phone calls or Skype, all your stress and worries and missing him so much just floats away. But still remember maybe you’re not physically together side by side but you’re in each others heart.

One for the Books: Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary:  Dan never expected Phil to seriously notice him. Sure, maybe he’d glance at his sign and laugh, but not even in his wildest dreams did he imagine actually getting called up onstage to do the one thing he’d dreamed of for years. But what happens when a simple kiss unexpectedly turns into something more? Musician!Phil/fanboy!Dan AU

Word Count (for this chapter): 3.1k

Genre: Fluffy smut

Extra tags: Musician AU, concerts, first kiss, getting together, first time

Warnings (for this chapter): Smut (but nothing explicit), swearing

Read on ao3

A/N: Based on a prompt from phanfic:

basically, dan is a total fangirl of phil, who’s a musician. phil does this thing, like halsey does, where he’ll be people’s first kiss at concerts. dan goes to his concert and phil notices dan, they kiss but it turns out to be a total make out session. you decide what happens next…

Yeah. Can you imagine how much I wanted to write this? Well, after nearly 3 long weeks, it’s finally here! I hope you enjoy!!

Keep reading

Trust

request ; Ur fics are so good??!! Like theyre so cute really. Could u do an oak fic bc there’s not enough. Idrc what it’s abt. Thanks!

by anonymous

pairing ; oak x reader

words ; 2320

summary ; he gave her some of him. she broke him. he gave you everything. you fixed him.

warnings ; mentions of cheating; depressed!oak; breakups

note ; ok ok ok i wasn’t sure this made sense at first, so i had to ask jo, and she said it was good, buuuut i’m not positive. lemme know what you guys think!


A broken boy.

That’s who he was. Just out of a relationship that meant the world to him. He still loved that girl, but what she did shattered everything he was. He trusted her, so much so that he gave nearly all he had in himself, and he dated her for two years. But then she turned around and decided that his love wasn’t enough, deciding she needed someone else’s love to satisfy her sadistic needs.

A girl who loved him.

She loved him before he love the girl who broke him. But she stayed in the background, stayed out of his heart. Then, the girl came around, and y/n, the girl in love with the boy, had never felt more alone. After those two years, complete with two good-for-nothing boyfriends and getting through a debuting Broadway show with that boy, she never fell out of love with him. She just couldn’t help herself.

A story to always remember.

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Exhausted

Requested: Could you do an imagine where they’re out and about or she’s with him while he’s doing press or something and she starts feeling and looking physically sick (like maybe her blood pressure drops or something) and Shawn gets all worried that she might pass out and lots of fluff please

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

~~~

You’ve been awake since three this morning. You weren’t supposed to wake up until 7:30, but truthfully the different timezones and jetlag are really getting to you since you’re not used to traveling this much. Shawn’s on a press tour where he’s doing tons of interviews and performances, and he asked you to tag along. You’ve been to 10 different countries in the last two weeks. You just flew from the UK to Australia, so you’re definitely starting to feel the effects of traveling so much.

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