#Tell me if you would like me to go back and add Cynthia tags! I wasn't sure if I should or not

[pokemoncanoncalls]

Hello, I'm a fictive of Volo who was reincarnated as Cynthia! And I'm looking for pretty much anyone who wants to chat, but I would like to meet Rowan and Augustine again, even if you're not the one I knew. I can be found @researcherofmyths if you're interested, thank you!

ㅤ

#pokemonfictive #pokemon fictive #pkmnfictive #pkmn fictive #pokemon legends arceus fictive #plafictive #pla fictive #volo fictive #volofictive #Canon Call #Source Call #Tell me if you would like me to go back and add Cynthia tags! I wasn't sure if I should or not

[alottanothing]

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

[princessniquane]

After Effects

Song is I Miss You by Aaliyah

Chapter 3

A few weeks later ~Its been to long and I'm lost without you

What am I gonna do?

Said I've been needing you, wanting you~

Roman's pov

It’s been three weeks since I last saw her. She was looking so torn with herself and what did I do about? Nothing. Instead I slept with the woman I chose over her. So fucking stupid.

I know I shouldn't but I can’t help myself. I had to make sure she was ok and try to apologize for my mistake. So the past three weeks I tried calling even though there was no chance that she would pick up but I had to at least try.

"Hey Uce you ok?" Jimmy asked Naomi behind him. I was sitting in one of the arena chairs so i could be by myself. I didn’t feel like talking so i came here. I needed space from everybody.

Every time I called her it would go straight to the answering machine. Even though I knew she wouldn't pick up the phone. I could still hear her voice by voice mail. It’s the only way I can sleep now is by her voice.

"Roman?" Naomi put her hand on my shoulder.

"Yea. Sorry I'm just...stuck in my head today. Just wanted to um clear my head for a bit before the show." I tell them, hopefully giving them a reassuring smile. They both give each other glances before looking back at me. 

"We're worried about you Roman. You haven't been yourself for weeks. No, ever since you broke things off with Cynthia. Which may I add was pretty stupid of you to do in the first place."

Jimmy pulls her to the side and gives her a look. She takes a deep breath and turns and leaves Jimmy with Roman. Jimmy walks back up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Look Roman. You know those two are close and she loves you to. Its just a delicate situation for everybody. Especially you." I sit back down with Jimmy right behind. Neither of us say any thing for awhile. "Have you called her?" I nod my head yes.

"I was gonna call again before you guys came and found me."

"Ok well I will leave you to it." He claps me on my shoulder while getting up. "Oh and Roman. Eat something man you not looking so hot. Need to take more care of yourself." He says before he leaves. I get my phone out and call her. It rings forever until I hear her voice. 

‘Hello?...sike! It's just my voicemail. Sorry I'm not able to take your call at the moment. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a blessed day!’

"Hey its Roman...again. I just wanted to see how you are holding up. You haven’t been calling me back and I was getting worried. *nervous chuckle* Please...I need to hear your voice. I need to talk to you...please. Even if its just as friends. Can we talk? Please." I say pleadingly.

~We were close friends Also lovers Did everything For one another Now you're gone and I'm lost without you here now But I know I gotta live and make it somehow Come back...to me Can you...feel me (calling) Hear me...calling (for you) For you...~

I hang up. I didn't know that I was crying til I felt tears on my cheeks. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I look at the people getting the arena ready for the show. There still time before the show starts so I don't need to be ready yet. I look at the picture on my home screen. It was a picture of me and Cynthia at a barbecue we were invited to. I subconsciously go through my photos of us. Each one bringing up the days when I was happy.

~Now I'm sitting here Thinking bout you And the days we use to share Is driving me crazy I don't know what to do I'm just wondering if you still care~

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up when my phone was taken. It was Dolph. I quickly cleared my throat and wiped my face. "Hey Dolph."

"I should really punch in the face. Maybe even more than that. But seeing you here crying...I don't know. I guess seeing you like this makes me pity you. Then again you deserve it. What you're feeling is nothing compared to what she is going through. You know...when she first told me that you two was going out. I didn't like it. I just had a feeling you were going to break her heart. And you did. Maybe I'm being to hard on you but I'm glad you're suffering. I wanted to be sooo...wrong about you for her sake. She's a grown woman she makes her decisions so I trusted her on this and now look at her." He walked away.

I thought about what Dolph said. I let it sink in and started to break down. This is all my fault. All I want to do is make things right. Does she even care anymore?

~Is your heart still mine? I wanna cry sometimes I miss you~

Reblogs are appreciated!! if you want to be tagged, send as ask!

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x oc #angst

[okimargarvez]

TEMPTING

Original title: Tempting.

Prompt: Penelope tries to follow the diet but Luke doesn’t help.

Warning: mention of Italian and Puerto Rican dishes.

Genre: funny, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: part 82 in Garvez canon Life.

Legend: 💏😘.

Song mentioned: none.

GARVEZ STORIES

TEMPTING

 He feels the gaze of his girlfriend on him, but decides not to give her attention and to wait until she explodes on her own. He doesn't have to wait that long, actually. -Shouldn't you always support me?- she asks with disappointed and resentful tone. She still doesn't get any reaction and her nervous grows. -Are you my boyfriend or not?- she asks, knowing that he will be obligated to reply to this.

Luke limits himself, however, to a fleeting glance, certainly not something he does usually. -Of course I am, and I am supporting you.- he continues to do what he is doing, then he gets up, going towards the oven; he opens it and seems satisfied with what he sees.

-Bullshits.- Penelope insists, observing his every move. -You know that for me this diet is important.- the man still gives her his back. So, she doesn't find a better solution to get his attention than to give him a very light nudge. -Luke, are you listening to me?- when he finally turns to her, he notices that the woman has folded arms.

-Yes, I listened to you.- he only limits himself to reply, walking beyond her without even touching her, grabbing and wearing oven gloves, embroidered, of course, with two heads of sparkling pink unicorns.

-So why the hell did you cook the Papas Rellenas?- he notices the certainty with which she guesses all the accents of the dish that his abuela had made her discover, of course, a day that she had told her about the Puerto Rican origins of the Alvez family. -You know I love it, but I have to pass it up, at least in this period.- Penelope's eyes struggle to break away from what is basically nothing other than potato and eggplant croquettes, seasoned with avocado sauce. Amalia hadn’t had any problems when she discovered that her nephew's girlfriend was a vegetarian and that Luke had become it too. In her day meat was certainly not a constant and it was not even so necessary, she had added, increasing the blonde's love for her.

In the present, Luke smiles with a pinch of wicked irony. -Oh, I didn't remember it. Even this?- he opens the refrigerator door to show her two Coconut flans resting in their caramel bed. When he turns again, Penelope's eyes are two flames of fire. -I didn't understand.- he shrugs. -Not bad, I'll just eat it myself.- he serves himself a good portion and moves his hands in front of the steaming plate, pushing the aroma towards her. -Can you smell it?- he continues.

Penelope first looks at her empty and shiny plate, then the one before her boyfriend. -You're a bastard of epic proportions.- she murmurs quietly enough to sound like a growl, but loud enough that Luke can hear it. Luke lifts his eyelids, pretending to be surprised.

-Why? You're the one on a diet.- he points out, starting to eat.

She tries to kick him from below the table. -A stupid diet, that's what you meant, right?- he doesn't answer. -It is easy to talk when you have a nice six-pack.- she adds in a less angry and sadder tone, which has the power to dissolve the mask of coldness of man.

He stands up, kneels at her height and takes her face in his hands. -Penelope. Hey, love, look at me.- she obeys. -You're perfect as you are.- he says in the most convinced, serious and sincere tone he knows. -Not only for me.- he adds. -It's an incontrovertible truth.- he almost snatches a laugh from her.

She sighs, looking away. -I know, but... I would still like...- she gestures without being able to find the right words. -...to get better.- she finally concludes.

-Can you improve perfection?- he asks her, with the precise aim of making her smile.

-Luke, stop it.- she replies weakly. -No one is perfect... not even you.- she points her index finger at his chest. -In addition, perfection is boring.- she says.

-Ouch, that hurts me.- but Penelope doesn't bit. -So are you really sure?- he asks.

-Yes, despite what you think, I'll make it.- she says firmly.

 A few days later

As much as he likes his work, his favorite cases are those that don't force them to move away from Quantico. He keeps the door open for her and watches her go by. -What you think if we go out to dinner tonight?- he asks, reaching her for the usual greeting to Roxy and Sergio.

-And where?- she answers with another question, getting to his feet.

-I was thinking of that place Rossi told us about.- he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. He feels the woman's body tense instantly.

-Italian food?- she exclaims, as if he were talking about poison. -Pasta, lasagna, risotto, eggs...- she lists, -You are trying to sabotage me.- she concludes, turning to face him.

-Me?- he raises his arms like an innocent person wrongly accused. -No, look, the Mediterranean diet is considered among the healthiest in the world.- he points out in Reid style.

-Mmm.- she curls the lips. -And the desserts? I won't be able to eat anything.- she speaks to herself.

-It's a pity, because there is a wide choice: Neapolitan babà, Sicilian cannoli, castagnaccio, baci di dama, tiramisu, cantuccini, Neapolitan pastiera, strudel... do they have very particular names, don't you think?- she frees herself from his grip and pushes him away.

-That's enough! You will not ruin everything! I wouldn’t even drink a coffee, with you.- she adds, resolute.

But he doesn't seem offended. -Perfect, it will mean that I will have to settle for Cynthia.- he says.

Penelope looks at him intently. -You wouldn't do that.- she challenges him, but she falters.

-Do you want to bet?- he replies in the same tone, wearing another jacket.

-Ok, go ahead.- she replies. -I don't care.- she tries to convince herself. -I'm not so jealous.- maybe repeating it aloud will make it real. Luke doesn't answer her. -And do you go out like that?- she asks.

He turns to admire himself better. -Why, don't I look good?- but that's not what she means.

She just gets sad. -No, you're... perfect. Goodnight.- she turns around. -Have fun, say hello to Cyn.- she says, but then she can't do it. -Right you, who are Catholic, you should under-stand the meaning of a small sacrifice.- she adds.

-Yes, to humiliate and feel guilty needlessly.- Luke replies. -You can also call it overthinking.- he approaches. -I'm not a fan of this practice, as well as indulgences and relics.- they look at each other in silence.

-If you grandmother could hear you!- she reaches out to push him away but she get caught.

-So, do you go out with me?- he asks her with a persuasive tone, continuing to hug her.

-And Cynthia?- Luke shrugs. As if they both didn't know he hadn't even called her yet. Penelope chuckles. -You're bad. The Mediterranean diet is really so...- he silences her with a kiss.

-Yes, search on google if you don’t trust me.- he answers a few minutes later. -And if I were wrong, I will give up baseball games...- he hesitates -let's say for a year.- he exhales for the effort.

-This really looks like a small sacrifice!-

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: here the dishes I mention in this ff. I chosen Puerto Rican for Adam’ origins and Italian for my nationality. I don’t know which of these is know in United States and other parts of the words (I mean, the Italian cousine, especially the desserts). The funny part? I never had a good relationship with food, but I’m not a fan of diet (if you don’t consider the fact I’m vegetarian as a diet, for me is more than this). I haven’t try all of these desserts (and not even the Puerto Rican dishes), but I think they are all good at least to see. You eat before with eyes, don’t you?

-Puerto Rican dishes:

Papas Rellenas.

Coconut Flans.

-Italian dishes:

Neapolitan babà.

Sicilian cannoli.

Castagnaccio.

Baci di dama.

Tiramisu.

Tuscan cantuccini.

Neapolitan pastiera.

Trenitino strudel.

TAGS:  @arses21434 @martinab26 @reidskitty13  @thinitta  @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan  @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk​  @inlovewithgarvaz​ @the-ellen-stuff​ @astressedwriter​ @kdramanmore​ @kamieshep​  @sk1l4targ​ @ilovecatswwehp​ @isaurebnnd​ @symphonyashley​ @jess-the-introvert​ @atomicbisexual @perfectly-penelope​ @everythingisanidea​ @blackb-ird​ Tell me if you want to be removed from the tag list ^^

#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #puerto rican dishes #italian dishes #italian dessert

[goldeneyedgirl]

2019 Fic Meme

My end of year fic meme, compiled from some old Livejournal fic memes that I do when I write stuff. I do this for fun, because I like looking back at what I have and haven’t written, and what keeps popping up again.

It’s meant to be silly fun, and if anyone else wants to do it, PLEASE DO. I don’t want to tag anyone and put pressure on you in case you don’t want to/don’t think you have enough fic/hate memes. 

Twilight

12 Days of Fic-Mas (Twilight, WIP) Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, bonus.  Twelve days of fic extracts, previews, and drabbles focusing on Alice Cullen. Encompasses Folie A Deux, The Only Girl in the World, JessaminexAlice, Omens, Asylum, The Long Way Around, The Dark and the Unknown, Hybrid, Runaway, All These Broken Things, & The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon 

Shadow to Light  (WIP) (Alice/Jasper, AU Angst, PG) In 1918, Jasper lures the newborn known as Mary-Alice back to Monterrey. He is lost to her before it even begins.

Total number of completed stories: Lol.

Total word count: 33,304 words were posted. 

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?  Look, I just... 2019 was a wash in so many ways. I played a lot of Fortnite really badly. I would have loved to be able to say Shadow to Light was finished, or that I was posting Hybrid regularly or something, but I can’t. I wish, wish, wish I had posted more but alas. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Outside of Twilight, I dabbled with some reader/Ben in the Umbrella Academy, and I was messing around with some Janet/Wanda in my personal MCU canon. As for Twilight, I think my stuff got a lot darker? Like, we’re down the rabbit hole here, and somehow Alice ended up being the most feared vampire in the Americas? Yeah. 

And there’s the Avengers/Twilight fic that is simultaneously three fics and one fic because I cannot make Executive Decisions and I can’t decide if I like 1. Alice knowing Bucky from Before Jasper; 2. Alice knowing Hawkeye from when he was a kid in the circus and being how Natasha and Clint got out of Budapest, or 3. the Volturi hooking up with Hydra and ... yeah, I think this one is legit the most second-most one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever written. (I’ve been filing today, and boy howdy have I written some actual shit.)

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? That’s like making me pick a favourite child. I’m always so, so proud of Shadow to Light, and I love The Dark and the Unknown ‘verse, and Hybrid is just hanging out there, chilling and ugh. My babies <3 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?  TwilightFicMas was a huge risk! I wasn’t sure anyone cared unless I was posting more Shadow to Light, and people were SO nice and enthusiastic. So I guess the lesson is shut up and share more fic? Get out of your own head and spend time in the community because fandom isn’t meant to be lonely?

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?  I’m starting a graphic design business AND my masters in design in 2020, so I figure fic is going to be my downtime next year. Ideally, I would love to get STL finished, Memento Vivere’s sequel going, and have a few of my shorter pieces posted. I would really love to get some of my original stuff ready for publication, but I’d be happy studying, running my business, and doing the fic thing for 2020.  

My best story of this year: That’s up to the readers, I guess. Everyone seemed obscenely enthusiastic about The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon, though, and I was not expecting that at all - I was actually upset that I left the ‘dud’ fic for the last day of FicMas. 

My most popular story: Shadow to Light. Everyone is so nice and enthusiastic and polite about that one. I’m not used to it! Fandom for me is usually me sitting in a corner, doin’ my obscure thing, and maybe one or two people will read what I’m working on.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:  I think everyone was super enthusiastic and nice about everything I posted this year. Maybe Folie A Deux? But like, that reflects more on me and the excerpts that I chose to post rather than the fic or the audience itself. 

Most fun story to write:  The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon because that Alice is so happy; I have this playlist for it that is super upbeat and funky. 

Hybrid is fun because that Alice likes to torment Jasper. He understands Edward on a molecular level once Alice arrives. 

Most Sexy Story: The Dark and the Unknown is the front-runner for that, because most of the sexy goings-on in Shadow to Light is very much focused on the psychological and emotional aspects rather than the physical.

Story with the single sexiest moment:  The Dark and the Unknown. I am still deeply uncomfortable writing sex scenes, so this may be the only one I ever do. The implication of a blow job in Shadow to Light nearly kill me tbh.

The forest behind the school is silent; just her breathing, and the slight wind. No birds or wildlife, none of the hum of the traffic or of the school.

They don’t undress more than necessary, her skirt slid to her hips, and he takes her roughly against a tree, flakes of bark falling into the dirt. She is hot and slick, and silent as he fucks her, his fingers digging into her hips, a growl rising in his chest. She is every bit his fantasy; the smell of damp flowers, the sweetness of her flesh, her willing supplication. His fingers tear through the lace of her tights as he grips her thighs, and the heels of her shoes must be bending, she’s digging them into the backs of his legs so hard.

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:  The Long Way Around makes Jasper and Alice’s relationship pretty fucked up, and tbh I look back at it and really struggle with how dark it is and how dark Jasper’s character becomes. There’s a reason that Shadow to Light is the ‘official’ version - it’s a better balance, and I actually think Maria is a lot more interesting in Shadow to Light as a villain with complex relationships with both Jasper and Alice to the point where none of them really want to have to kill each other, but there is a lot of hate on both sides. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:  That’s a hard question. Shadow to Light definitely did that because I had to consider what happened when you took Alice out of the picture, and how that changed what happened, and considered the inter-family relationships. So much of canon relies on Alice’s visions that things can’t just happen the same way. 

Hardest story to write: Shadow to Light isn’t easy because I have such a specific idea of how it plays out, how it ‘looks’ in my head, and because Alice is so fundamentally different to canon. More innocent when it comes to normal interactions, and so controlled because it meant life or death - but she’s still got to be Alice in a way that people can recognize. It also has to sound right? If I can’t get the right turn of phrase for one scene, it has to be put aside until I can work it out. 

 All These Broken Things is hard because I started it back in, like, 2014ish and my writing and understanding of the characters and canon has changed so much - plus there are a few sections that came to me quite early in the writing, and now sound really out of place, but are such a strong linchpin for the story that I have to rework them in. It’s a good kind of hard, though, because I’ve improved so much, my ideas and goals are more refined. 

Most disappointing:  Omens is a little bitch, honestly. I started it for a fic contest and kept going to explore Alice’s human life, and it doesn’t quite feel like my writing? It needs reworking, and be a little less obvious because I think the ‘four horsemen of the apocalypse’ is a good theme for a Human!Alice fic. 

Easiest story to write: Depends on my mood; Hybrid is great when I’m in kind of a ‘girls kicking ass’ mood and boot up my action girls playlist.

Biggest surprise:  Hybrid started as a love story that was basically ‘yeah, let’s make this shit super dramatic and overwrought’, and turned into this actual story with a huge focus on family and relationships. I can’t remember why I decided Alice’s father had a husband except that I was thinking about small town ‘otherness’, and LGBT+ people can and are still considered ‘other’ in these spaces. 

Then you add in Alice and Cynthia who are basically in the same boat but have been separated for their entire lives. Alice has knowledge in her corner, whilst having to fight through foster care, abuse, and hospital; whilst Cynthia has lived a very normal but privileged life as the daughter of a mixed-race same-sex couple in a very small town. I went full-hog with this, and added in an extended family, because I really hated how canon went balls-to-the-wall to isolate Bella from everyone, including Charlie. 

Like, this thing is a monster, and whilst I plan to sit down and rewrite the outline (which dates back to 2016, and I hate the ending of), I stopped outlining at 65 freaking chapters. 

Most unintentionally telling story:  I think this question that still confuses me finally gets a decent answer in The Dark and the Unknown - Jasper is seeing most of it from his perspective, and there isn’t a ton of dialogue. I’ve tried to avoid an info-dump, but it’s meant to be quite supernatural in tone, and focusing on vampire senses and gifts enhances that. 

Story I’d like to revise:  All These Broken Things wins that one. Due to the age of the piece, there are some pacing and tone issues in later chapters that are the reason I haven’t formally posted it. 

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear: Oh man, I really want to finish A Thousand Years of Solitude, which is a Tanya fic. I’m really happy with what I’ve got so far, but it sounds smarter and more layered than it really is, so I’m kind of stuck. 

Mad World because Romani!Alice is super sassy and taking 0% of Swan or Cullen bullshit - I think 90% of my fic is just me going, “yeah, that’s not how normal people react.” And I’m a sucker for gothic horror. 

What else? Aww, Against A Wall which is AU Human Jasper coming from the shittiest home, and Alice finding him. It’s meant to be short, and another one I have a really clear idea of how it needs to work. 

And the one where Alice’s gift is a sentient power that pushes her to follow it; that Bad Things happen if she doesn’t; that Renesmee was always Endgame for Something, and Alice was a key piece to get that result. Or the one where Aro takes Alice as a ‘guest’ for a period because of Edward and Bella, and Alice’s gift is basically broken. 

Good times. I have like 5 years of fic on this computer, we could be here for awhile. 

#my fic #twilight fic #meme #my writing

[lady-olive-oil]

Work Out: Chapter 1

The moment you’ve all been waiting for; chapter 1 of Work Out. It took a lot out of me to finally get this out and im glad it’s here. The song in this is My Love For You by Sevyn Streeter, and I’m having it to where Geneva sings a few songs and have written some. Hence why it’s so long and the lyrics are in it, i recommend you listen to it while Geneva sings. So without further ado, here we go! If ya wanna be apart of my Lil Nasties Tag Squad, let me know!

Warning(s): nothing but language and a few heated moments

Word Count: 3,009 [i snapped]

Lil Nasties: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @themyscxiras || @sparklemichele || @designerwriterchic || @honeychicana || @chaneajoyyy || @jojolu || @dc41896 || @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove || @jozigrrl

-3 Weeks Later-

“What in the pink Himalayan salt, is this shit?!”

The year barely started and I was already in deep with issues. With trying to open up my own gym; moving and trying to spend time with my friends, my soon to be ex husband just had to add more things to his side of the divorce settlement.

“Genevieve Leona. Language.” Her father had the chance to look over the new settlement that she has given, checking to see if there were any plausible loopholes.

Placing a gentle kiss on her father's graying cheek, she handed him a glass of water, before sitting across from him at the island.

“Sorry dad. But you of all people should know how difficult this is. You've handled cases harder than this.”

“Sweet pea, I get it. I do, but I need for you to calm down please?”

His hardworking hands were placed on top of my delicate one's, trying to ease my pain. Who knew that going through a divorce was so time consuming and dreadful.

“He just works my nerves. I’m glad I went with the prenup before hand, because he would've gotten half of my building space. Which I’m not having that.”

Opening my own space is a dream of mine, something I've always wanted since I was 12. Whether is was going to become a gym; a skating rink or a combination of both, I was going to have it. Jake knows about it too, but he doesn’t like seeing me succeed more than him.

“We’ll get this all straightened out soon enough. In the meantime, don’t work yourself up over this clown. Like ya mama says ‘he ain’t worth hella beans.’ She’s wise you know. Imma head on home, and we’ll talk more later.” A hearty chuckle escaped him, as he kissed my head before heading to his car, to make it home before the sunset.

“I know, I know. She was right about this one, maybe. Call me when you get home, pops. Ok?” Giving him one more goodbye kiss, I waved at him before making it back inside.

“Operation: Get Jake out of my Life, is a go. All I need is some wine and dancing. I know just who to call.”

Picking up the phone to dial the FaceTime group chat, I was greeted by the other two angels in my life.

“What’s up golden girls. Y’all busy this weekend?”

“Nah not really no. We could go out tonight, I just finished up the schedule for the upcoming comic con in July. Gotta have costumes on deck to win. Ryan and I are good to go, his work thing ain’t till Thursday right?

Destiny never stopped working, even after college she made sure her coin was on point.

“I’m free this weekend too. Yeah him and John have this medical convention Thursday, which I clocked it to be 15 min away, so we all good to tag along as a group. Whatcha have in mind?”

Cynthia, our resident spy, could never be too careful when it came to men she dated. But Johnny never gave her a reason to doubt him.

“Skate night at Roller Jam. I need to get loose for a few hours to some Cool & The Gang. Besides it’ll give y’all a chance to see ya girl get down on some wheels.”

Roller skating has been in my blood since I was in the womb. My parents met at a roller skating rink and they’ve been groovin ever since. I happen to be the captain of my own roller skating team called Roller Queens. Best team to ever roll into Staten Island.

“I can get down with that, be like old times.” Destiny agreed.

“Great times. Oh what about Mr. Tall, blonde and gorgeous? Have you talked to him lately?” Cynthia changed the subject.

“Ha ha. No I haven’t. But he has been blowing up my Instagram like crazy. I have replied a bit though, nothing too drastic. Some chicks  have been messaging me like ‘get away from him’; ‘he doesn’t want a hoe like you’ or ‘you’re not his type. Step off’ These little girls man, I’m telling you.”

It’s not like I don’t want Florian, I mean who doesn’t? Have you seen him lately? All jokes aside, I’m not looking for anything serious right now no way. I’m too busy trying to get my divorce finalized.

“We know you clapped them back. No time for the girls, this is grown woman ish.”

“What Dede said.” Cynthia chuckled a bit, candying is all to join in and I saw her man in the background. So I gave him a wave before looking at the time.

“Speaking of time, it’s getting late. I have to go get Leilani from the recording studio today since Lucas has their car and his game ran late. Plus Donny is on a date so, Older sister to the rescue.”

“We’ll see you at the rink Friday, ok?” Destiny said as she moved around the kitchen only for Ryan to say hi to me as well.

“Yeah. At like 5 ish, it’s late skate so it’s better. See y’all later. Mwha!” Sending then both my love and kisses, we hung up and went on about our business.

As I got ready to head downtown, I got a text from Michael saying he’s still in town for the next few weeks. That could only mean one thing: it was for business. Which also meant that Florian would be with him too. Maybe my week we starting to look up. I texted him what studio I’d be at, kill two birds with one stone.

Walking into the studio, I heard the smooth R&B sounds of Leilani’s voice through the speakers. This is where she’s always in her element, she turns everything out and puts her all into her vocals and practices. I couldn’t be more prouder of my siblings for going for their dreams.

“Good job little bird. Come out real quick would ya?” I smiled happily as she walked out the booth, proceeding to give me a hug in return.

“You really think I’m good? I know I need more practice, but I know I’m getting better day by day. How’s life going for you? Jake still being a little shit?” Leilani arched a brow, sitting in the chair across from me.

“As always. He added more “demands” to our divorce settlement, and I’m pretty sure I can’t meet them at all. So he’s stuck with his shit, and I keep mine.” I shrugged a tad, spinning in my chair and Leilani gave me a look.

“Well I hope he gets what he’s asking for cause all this is too much on me, and I ain’t even the one divorcing him. Let’s get your mind off of it, why don’t you go sing in the booth one time?” She suggested and the look turned into a smile.

“Me? In the booth? I haven’t done that in years Lei.” 6 years to be exact, but who's counting.

“That’s just it. Give it a shot and try it. That one song you were working on for the talent show, back home. What was it called?” She really wanted me to sing for her once. Anything for my sister I guess.

“My Love For You. It’s called My Love For You.”

“See?! Please sis? I want to hear you sang one time. I got Marcus here and we can cut it real fast. Nothing like a side hobby next to skating right? Please!” Leilani held my hands and gave me a puppy dog pout.

“Fine! Fine I’ll do it.” I broke down and earned a squeal from her, as I went into the booth. Putting on the headphones I saw Michael and  Florian walk in just in time.

“Oh snap, cuzzo going in the booth.” Michael received a hug from Leilani, before he introduced her Florian who was a smitten kitten over seen Geneva again.

“Yeah yeah. Mike, don’t distract me please I’m in my zone. And you brought Florian too. Now I gotta show out.” I shook my shoulders a bit, receiving some laughs from the group before getting the signal from Marcus.

“Yes I’m here too. Michael didn’t tell me you could sing. So I am interested even more now.” The smirk that etched his perfect face wasn’t helping the fact that he looked good in his red track suit. Jesus be a fence.

Did it get hot in here? The heat must be on cause my face was feeling warm, when he smirked at me. I can not lose myself over this man.

“I’m ok. Been a while but maybe it’ll all come back to me soon.”

With a slight nod, I opened my phone to the lyrics I had saved in my notes, and just went with the rhythm. I had to think of something that made me happy in order to do the song. At the time it was Jake but, now I just had myself.

The track started off and Leilani was already vibing to the beat. Michael was too, with Florian soon falling in line. Controlling my breathing, getting the hang of it all over again. Hearing the background vocals, I got into the groove.

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you (to you, I)

I'm saving all the love (whoo, oh)

I'm saving all my love for you

Looking straight at Florian, I decided pour all my emotion into the song to practically let him know what i was feeling without being direct.

Ridin' round town in your black Impala

With my baby, yeah, that's my partner

Look the other way when they tryna holler

So unbothered, we're so unbothered

See I got niggas slidin' in my DMs

Stevie Wonderin' if I'ma ever see 'em

But I don't pay that shit no mind

No, I don't give that shit no time, no time

I just curve 'em from the a.m. to the p.m

Oh, baby, you're the reason

That none of these niggas can touch me

Ain't none of these niggas get lucky

No, no, no, no, no

Florian’s POV

“Man, I think she’s singing to you.” Michael lean over towards me, mumbling about something as a smirk appeared on my face.

“Maybe so. Remember the bet I told you about, that we set at the New Years party? I still have to prove myself to her a lot if I want to make this work.” I mentioned while leaning against the wall. Entranced by her voice.

“Yeah yall both told me about it actually. You think you can do it? I mean she’s pretty persistent with whom she dates. Last guy only lasted 3 weeks, on top of her on going divorce cause Jake plays too much.” Michael had informed me about her future ex husband and how much of a moocher he is. The faster he leaves, the better chance I have.

“Better me than him.” I knew i had to make a good impression on her at least, because she hasn’t been treated right in so long from what I’ve been told by her friends. Giving her my undivided attention, I know she felt the sudden shift in change.

Geneva’s POV

Whatever the boys were talking about must’ve been important, by the way there were engaged in the topic. Once Florian looked at me again I got back into the zone, hitting those notes.

Only you, yeah, it's only you that get my attention

Only you, swear it's only you, ain't no competition, no

'Cause baby, you give me everything that I've been missin'

That's why I'm saving all my love for you

yeah yeah, saving all my love

Saving all my love for you

(I'm saving all my love)

Saving, saving all my love, I'm saving all my love for you

It ain't with nobody else, you got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby

And I'ma keep saving all my love for you

Oh oh oh

Saving all my love for you, saving all my love for you

(I, I'm saving all the love I'm saving all my love for you) Yeah

I felt the rhythm all over my body while moving to the beat, imagining what it would be like to be with someone who might actually love me for me.

Yeah, if I had a hundred, I would break you off a fifty

Yeah, I know you'd do the same, I know you'd split it with me

Yeah, on ya team, Micheal Jordan, Scottie Pippin

Long as we got each other, I ain't trippin'

You the one, you the realest, you the realest (I, I)

Only you, yeah, it's only you (only you) that get my attention

Only you, swear it's only you, ain't no competition, no

'Cause baby, you give me everything that I've been missin' (oh)

That's why I'm saving all my love for you

“Oh shit, sis is snappin on the vocals.” I could hear Leilani through the cracked door with one headphone on my right ear. It felt good seeing her vibe to me singing, it was something we do growing up. To get that opportunity again was amazing. Florian kept smirking at me, with a sudden lovey look in his green-gold eyes. He was leaning by Marcus, on the soundboard just in tranced by everything. I gave it my all and even hit a high note in there.

Saving, saving saving all my love

Saving all my love for you

I been saving (saving it for you)

(I'm saving all my love)

Saving all my love, saving all my love for you

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby

And I'ma keep saving all my love (all my) for you, oh (oh yeah)

Saving all my love (my love) for you, saving all my love for you

All (you) my (you) love (you) for you

(You) all (you) of my love saving all my love

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, yeah yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, doin' what you do baby, yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, doin' what you do baby, yeah yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby, doin' what you do, baby, hey

Oh, what you do to me, baby

Oh, what you do to me, baby

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you (for you, I)

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you

Sending a wink in Florian’s direction, the game had started for us both. I had remembered that skate night was this weekend, the perfect opportunity to get this bet started. Coming out the booth feeling giddy about myself, I received a hug from my sister gaining my confidence over tenfold.

“You my dear, have a gift.” Florian took my hand and placed a kiss on top of it, trying to sway my way.

“Thanks. It’s one of my hidden talents, that I let you see without an ulterior motive.” with an arch in my brow, I gained a few laughs in the room. Looking him up and down, he eyed me too.

“You plan on giving me a show with your other talents, love?” He arched his brow as well, biting his bottom lip. Michael and Leilani were eating up the commentary.

Leilani took a picture of me for a split second, along with getting one of Florian with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Now yall both can either kiss already or do the first challenge. Am I right?” Mike reminded us both, setting the whole mood in motion.

“He’s right. Listen, this friday there’s a skate night at my old stomping grounds; Roller Jam in Staten Island. If you can skate to the beat, with some rhythm, I’ll go on a date with you.” crossing my arms across my chest, I felt confident in myself and always up for a challenge.

“Roller skating? You may have to help me out then. I’m tall enough but willing to learn.” Florian nodded in agreement and smiled genuinely at me. He handed me his phone to plug his number in, to set the game in motion and vice versa.

Sending the directions to the skating rink to him, I managed to take a picture of myself for the contact, and he did one for his in my phone. Before I left with my sister I set the tone of the challenge, standing on my tippy toes in my vermillion Nike Air Maxs, and placed a sweet kiss to his cheek. Looking into the reflective mirror on the wall I saw his cheeks turn red. His scent caught my senses, and it was intoxicating. He smelled like a warm fire and cocoa, something I wouldn't mind snuggling up against. Pulling away, I saw him look into my eyes for a split second, drawing me in but I had to be strong.

“Let the games begin, Munteanu.” With a gentle whisper against his ear, I grabbed my things and left him there speechless. Watching him watch me walk away with a sway in my hips.

“Let the games begin indeed, Shaw.” he was biting his plump bottom and giving me a once over one last time.

“You got it bad for my cousin bro. Let’s just hope for your sake, Jake doesn't come around and try to win her back.” I heard my cousin say to Florian as they left as well.

“I’d like to seem him try. I never lose.” the confidence in his voice stirred something in me, awakened the desire in me to finally be happy.

If Jake thinks he can mess up my fun, well he’s got another thing coming.

#florian munteanu x oc #florian munteanu #florian x geneva #florian munteanu fanfic #florian munteanu imagines #geneva shaw #work out #lil nasties #sevyn streeter

[allwaswell16]

11/11/11

Answer the 11 questions, think of 11 of your own, tag 11 people.

I was tagged by @kingsofeverything Thanks, Lauren!

1. How many active WIPs do you have?

Crying. I usually only do one at a time! But I guess I have three-ish?

2. Where do you write?

Usually my living room couch or my kitchen table. Sometimes my bed. Sometimes the many waiting rooms I sit in. I love sitting at my desk in my basement but we got water in the basement and are fixing that right now. sigh. 

3. How do you feel when you finish the first draft, before editing?

I usually edit a lot as I go, so I really don’t have a ton to do when I reread to make changes. Sometimes I’ll add to it, but generally by then I’ve taken out everything that needs to be deleted. So it’s mostly proofreading at that point. So I guess I usually feel pretty damn relieved! lol 

4. What’s your least favorite of all the fics you’ve written?

Ouch. Hmmm. I’ll have to go look. Oh man, Mac’s gonna kill me but probably the email chain canon drabbles I used to write. The only reason I like them at all is because Mac loves them. lol. 

5. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write but haven’t? Why?

Oh man, before I wrote an amnesia fic, I would have said that. Okay, this took me a hot minute to figure out, but I’d love to write a great fantasy story. Sadly, I don’t think I have it in me. I tried to write one, but I’ve been stuck after the first 5k forever. I think it’s not gonna happen. 

6. Do you enjoy writing original characters in your fics?

I do! I don’t use tons of original characters, but the ones I have I generally like quite a lot because they’re based on people I know and love haha. Cynthia in Consequences, Annie in the Dive series, Maggie in Sound Like a Song, Emily in Staring Across the Room. I could definitely go on. haha

7. Do you prefer specific towns/places as your settings? Do you have a favorite?

I definitely do! I like being able to truly picture something and I look up tons of things about the setting usually. I like to feel like I’m really living in that world for a bit. My favorite was probably Antarctica in When the Sun Won’t Let You Sleep, but I’ve written a ton about Chicago and the Midwest haha. 

8. Do you research or do you prefer to just make things up?

See the last question. haha. I research the shit out of things until my beta has to tell me to knock it off. It’s one of my favorite parts of the process though. I need to know all the details even if it never makes it into the fic. 

9. What is your favorite (type of) fic to read when you’re having a bad day?

I like to immerse myself in a painful, angsty fic if I’m trying to escape a bit. If I’m feeling anxious though, I go for a certain brand of short fic as written by @londonfoginacup haha

10. Do you prefer to write from one POV or multiple POVs? If one, do you have a preference as to whose POV you write from?

I don’t really have a huge preference. I definitely don’t feel like I just decide on one or the other or both. I just go with what feels right for the story. If I had to choose, I’d say I enjoy writing from Harry’s pov because I generally infuse the Harry character with my own personality traits. lol. So it’s easy to get in his head in general. 

11. Self promo one of your fics. Link it and talk it up!

Please read my Big Bang fic, Consequences! 

It’s 78k, which is the longest of my fics so far. It’s an amnesia au set in a fictionalized version of my hometown in the Midwest. I love exes to lovers, so it does begin with a prologue of their breakup. The fic is a journey not only of them finding their way back to each other, but Harry’s own of recovery and healing. It’s very angsty with a happy ending, and no spoilers, but everything is not as it seems. 

~*~

My questions:

1. What fic have you written that you wish everyone would read?

2. What’s your favorite character you’ve ever written?

3. What’s your most popular fic and why do you think it’s your most popular?

4. What’s one of your favorite fan fics that you haven’t written?

5. What is your current WIP about?

6. What is a fic that you hope to write someday?

7. Do you read fics from other fandoms? Which ones?

8. What author or book has influenced you as a writer?

9. What’s one of your favorite books from when you were a child?

10. What’s an au/trope that you thought you didn’t like until you read one and loved it?

11. Choose one: angst or fluff?

I’ll tag these eleven people to answer my questions! @taggiecb @becomeawendybird @jaerie @jacaranda-bloom @hi-larrie-ous @londonfoginacup @realitybetterthanfiction @ham-palpert @helloamhere @phd-mama @scrunchyharry

#tag things

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Sorry

here’s some trans albert for y’all

pairing: racetrack higgins/albert dasilva

warnings: mentioned abuse, mild dysphoria, violence, blood, homophobia, transphobia, the f slur (i star it out), a single knife

canon era

albert’s pov

I’ve always known I was different.

I would tell my mom day after day that I was born in the wrong body, that I was really a boy, but she never listened.

She chalked it up to stupid sayings of a child, up until the day she took me seriously.

The day she took me seriously she quite literally threw me out onto the street.

I was left without a home.

I was on the streets for a week, avoiding the police and stealing whatever food I could.

I cut my hair with a shard of glass, not caring that it sliced up my hand.

And then Race found me.

We were 10, and he led me back to the Lodging House.

I insisted on bandaging all of my injuries myself.

No one was going to find out my secret.

No one would know Cynthia, it would just be Albert.

When I was 12 I had to start wrapping my chest. Most of the boys changed out in the open, but there was still a bathroom with separate stalls, and I changed there.

When I was 13 I thought I was dying. I was sure that that could be the only explanation for the endless stream of blood and torrent of pain in my stomach. But no, I snuck out to the Bronx one day and learned that it was just something I had to learn to live with. And learn to live with it I did.

When Race and I were 15, he kissed me for the first time.

I had no clue how to react, what would he say when he found out that I was a fake?

“Al...” Race and I are kissing again, we’re 16 now. His arms are around my waist, mine are running through his blond curls. His hands are slowly moving up, his fingers pushing past the fabric of my shirt, stroking my skin-

I pull away fast, shoving Race’s hands away.

“What’re you-”

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, tucking my shirt back in and replacing my cap on my hat.

“I-”

“I’m sorry, Race. Just-” I don’t know what to tell him, so I exit the conversation by climbing back through the window into the Lodging House.

I’m distracted the next day.

I’m barely paying attention when I get my breakfast of bread and buy my papers.

I sell all of my papers, but I wasn’t into it today and I’m now stuck racing the setting sun back to the Lodging House.

Even now I’m still distracted, so it’s definitely a shock when a hand clamps tightly over my mouth and drags me backwards, my feet scraping against the ground.

I try to kick my way free, but I’ve been on my feet all day with no break for lunch or dinner so it doesn’t do much.

I see the shadowed face of Morris Delancey in front of me, and I assume it must be his brother Oscar holding me.

I try to shout past Oscar’s fingers, but my voice stops short when I see Morris pull a length of rope from his belt.

My ankles are quickly fastened together, and my wrists are pulled in front of me and bound too.

Oscar’s hand is replaced with rough fabric, and I am dropped to the ground.

“Fucking f**.” Morris growls, kicking me in the stomach. “We saw you with Higgins the other day. We know your secret.”

How could they have seen? We’ve been so careful.

And just how much of my secret do they know?

“You’re disgusting.” Oscar adds, kind of a weak insult, but his boot grinding my head against the concrete is far from weak.

Morris pulls me up by my shirt collar, and he punches me directly in the face.

I cough blood into my gag, and he punches me again.

And again.

And again.

My skull feels like it’s been split in two, all I want is an end to the pain.

“You goddamn f*****!” Morris shouts, slamming me against the wall.

My head hits the bricks hard, and my vision blurs.

I’m on the ground again, and I can see through tears and blood a silver glint of light.

One of them has a knife.

I can feel my hair being practically ripped out of my scalp as Morris uses it to keep my face pointing towards Oscar, who is gripping his switchblade so tightly his knuckles are white.

I shut my eyes tight as the knife comes towards my face, and I can feel the sharp sting of the metal as it cuts open my forehead.

Three cuts.

I can’t see what I look like, but I know it must be three letters.

Three simple letters.

More punches, more kicks, but all of them seem meaningless compared to the fire that has consumed my head.

When the brothers finally leave me alone on the floor of the alley, slowly bleeding out, there’s only one thing I can think.

At least they didn’t open my shirt.

I don’t know how long I lay here for, ropes digging into my skin, sobs unable to escape my gag, blood pooling up around me.

All I know is that after what seems like hours later, long after the sun has set fully, I can hear footsteps.

There’s a blurry shape stepping towards me.

“Oh my God, Albert...” It’s Race? Probably.

I feel arms wrap around me and gently lift me off the ground.

Everything hurts.

The next thing I know is that I’m back at the Lodging House, lying on a bed.

I open my mouth to speak, but the fabric is still there.

I lift an arm to remove it, but I’m still tied up.

I look around the room, I’m completely alone.

Did they find out? Is that why no one wants to be in the same room as me?

I scream as loud as my raw throat will allow, I feel so trapped.

“Oh God.” Race is back, and his face is red and flecked with tears.

He starts fiddling with my ropes, his shaking hands trying desperately to free me.

He keeps muttering something, but I still can’t hear very well over the ringing in my ears.

I can see his lips moving though, what is he saying?

My ankles are free now, as well as my wrists.

My gag is gone, and a wave of blood spills from my lips.

Race’s lips are still moving, but I still can’t hear him.

His hands move to my shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, and I scream at him to stop, beg him, but he won’t listen.

“Al, I need to check your ribs.”

Great. I can hear again.

“Please, don’t!” I scream, not even bothering to try and regulate the pitch of my voice, but it’s too late.

“What...?” Race has unearthed the fabric bound tightly around my chest, and he is trying to untie the many knots securing it around me.

Tears are mixing with the blood on my face, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to see Race’s face.

“I’m sorry.” I gasp. “I’m sorry, I-” My voice cracks, and it fails me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Race’s voice is quiet, and I open my eyes a crack.

I can’t speak.

I open my mouth, move my lips, but no sound comes out.

“I could’ve helped you. I could’ve-”

What?

I’m hallucinating, he’s supposed to be angry.

Upset.

“Albert, I-” Race closes his mouth again, he too is at a loss for words. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There will be a conversation later, there’s now way we can continue being what we are without having one, but for now it’s just silence.

Race cleans my cuts and bandages my head in silence, I grit my teeth through the pain in silence.

There will be a conversation tomorrow, more pain tomorrow, and surely more apologies tomorrow, but tonight is silence.

me? editing before posting? it’s less likely than you’d think

let me know if you wanna be on my tag list!

TAG LIST

@booksbroadwayandbagels @somekindaspacecadet @tea-and-theater @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @auspicioustarantula @dancingpenss @suddenly-im-respectable @have-we-got-news-for-you @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @funnyihope

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #morris delancey #oscar delancey #violence #blood #knives #homophobia #transphobia #ralbert #angst

[prettylittlesestras]

they all say that nothing ever changes

“Cannonball!”

The Bellas, who had all been sitting around the pool with their legs in the water, scramble (unsuccessfully) to get out of the way as the splash from Fat Amy’s cannonball drenches them all. Since they’re now soaking wet, they all descend into the pool. Chloe and Stacie claim two of the floats, and Jessica and Ashley grab onto some pool noodles to keep themselves afloat. Beca sits on the steps of the pool and looks out over the pool full of the people she loves the most. Her relationship with her parents had been strained for a long time for different reasons, but with the Bellas, she finally felt like she had found her true family. With them, she was home. She felt a tightness in her chest as she thought about this being their last hoorah before senior year, and that they very well might go their separate ways after graduation in the spring.

She can feel herself fading away from reality, slipping into a headspace of negativity; one that once she enters, it’s hard to pull herself away from. She’s worries about losing the Bellas. She’s never been too big on change, and now to lose the people she values the most, it feels like a kick to the stomach. She also worries about losing Chloe. Chloe is her best friend, and out of all of the Bellas, Chloe’s certainly the person she likes the most. Maybe even loves. Beca dives into the pool, letting the cold water clear her mind and help her refocus on how happy she is to be here with the Bellas. They had come to Jessica’s parents lake house to bond and spend time quality time together before their last year started. Beca tells herself that this is not the time or place to worry about losing her friends or some stupid, unrequited love.

As her head emerges from the water, she hears her friends laughing, and she can’t help but smile and let out a small laugh even though she doesn’t know exactly what it is the other girls are laughing about. Beca swims over to Chloe and Stacie and grabs onto Chloe’s float to keep herself above the water.

“Can you guys believe we start class next week?” Flo asks while splayed out on a unicorn-shaped pool float.

“No way. Organic Chemistry almost kicked my ass last semester, and now I get to tackle Cellular and Molecular Biology. I’ll be looking forward to Bellas cardio workouts just to give my brain a break,” Stacie says while rolling her eyes.

“Yeah no, don’t put me down for cardio,” Fat Amy says without cracking a smile, just as serious as she said it during their freshman year.

Chloe grins and shakes her head as she moves her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose to make eye contact with Amy. “Well, maybe we can find some new Bellas this year who actually take my cardio days seriously.”

Beca cringes. “Ew don’t remind me. Weeding through all the auditions of potential new members is the worst way to kick off senior year. We win a couple national championships and everyone wants to be an a capella singer.” She grimaces as she thinks back on last year’s horrible audition day; they had listened to 58 versions of the same song and disliked them all. They didn’t add a single new Bella to the group.

“I’d rather suffer through three hundred terrible auditions than have the problem that Aubrey and I had the year after she blew chunks all over the first three rows of the crowd at Lincoln center,” Chloe laughs.

“Hey! We all joined that year and we’re the ones who won all those national championships,” Cynthia Rose shouts from across the pool. She tries to sound offended, but the smile on her face says something different.

“Well, we weren’t always the Bellas we are today. We started out as a rag-tag group of strangers, and look at us now. Once we found our sound we were unstoppable,” Chloe says with a huge grin taking over her face, pride seemingly seeping from her pores. If there’s one thing Chloe loves, it’s the Bellas.

A silence sweeps over the girls, and it’s obvious that they’re all having fond flashbacks of the past three years. Beca feels a slight sense of disappointment in herself for dreading the auditions. She thinks that if she wants to savor these last few months with the Bellas, she needs to savor the experience in its entirety, not just the high notes.

They lay in and around the pool, sunbathing in a comfortable quietness until someone suggests riding the jet skis out on the lake. They race down to the edge of the water where the jet skis are tied to a long fishing dock, and they begin their trip around the large lake. They travel through inlets and coves and spot an alligator in a part of the lake that they vow to never revisit (except for Lily who says something about alligator wrestling, but they try to ignore it for everyone’s sake).

The Bellas bank the jet skis on a small beach with a large, flat rock. It’s “the perfect location to get a tan” according to Stacie, so they stop and relax on the big rock. Beca is beyond happy to be off the water; she was lost in thought for most of the ride, and her life still managed to flash before her eyes one too many times while on the back of Amy’s jet ski. At this point, she’d rather ride with anyone (even gator-wrestling Lily) than with Amy.

Ashley, Jessica, and Cynthia Rose skip rocks on the lake while Beca, Chloe, Stacie, and Flo lay out to get a tan. Amy and Lily go missing for a few minutes, but then the girls see them off in the distance having a water gun fight with the water guns that Lily seemed to produce out of thin air.

After about an hour, the girls begin to complain about being hungry, so most of the Bellas start heading down to the lake to return to the edge of the water. Chloe gets up and starts heading down to the beach when she sees Beca still sitting on the ground and looking out over the lake.

“You guys go ahead,” She half-whispers to Stacie, “Just leave us one of the jet skis and we’ll be back in a little while.”

Stacie agrees without saying a word, knowing something had been wrong with Beca all day. Chloe walks back over to Beca and plops down beside her, leaning her head on Beca’s shoulder. They sit in silence for a while, Chloe knowing that Beca would speak when she was ready and not a moment before.

After about ten minutes, they both lay back and look up at the sky. Chloe scoots closer to Beca so that their arms are slightly touching, wanting her to know that she was there and wasn’t going anywhere for as long as her friend needed her. Finally Beca spoke, “So what happens when this is all over? We’re all just going to graduate in nine months and go our separate ways and never see each other again? I don’t know if I can deal with losing the first real family I’ve ever had,” She said, speaking quickly, as if she might never say them if she didn’t get the words out as soon as possible.

Chloe turns over to face Beca and rests her hand on Beca’s arm. “Of course that’s not what happens. First of all, you said it yourself; we’re family. Just because we’re graduating doesn’t mean we don’t love each other and we won’t still be one big family. Even if we aren’t all in the same place, there’s no way that will just go away.”

Feeling slightly reassured and unaware of how close their faces are, Beca turns to face Chloe, and their lips accidentally brush together. Their lips touch by accident, but neither girl breaks the contact. For a split second, Beca contemplates turning away and apologizing, not wanting to ruin her friendship with Chloe over an accidental kiss. She hasn’t been able to work up the courage to kiss Chloe for three years, and she can’t believe it’s about to happen by some strange accident. Beca has always thought that kissing Chloe, or telling her how she feels, or being with her isn’t worth losing her over if she doesn’t feel the same way. But Chloe hasn’t moved away yet, so Beca doesn’t either. They aren’t sure who kissed who, but their lips crash together and move in harmony, like one of the songs Beca produces so well. Neither girl pulls away until they’re both breaking away and gasping for air.

Chloe pushes her sunglasses to rest on top of her head and cups Beca’s face with her hand, guiding her face so that Beca’s eyes lock with her own. “And second of all, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t ever want to be somewhere you’re not.”

Beca smiles and buries her face in Chloe’s chest, not saying anything for a few moments until she mutters a quiet, “me either”. They lay there, Chloe on her back and Beca’s head on Chloe’s chest for a long while until the sun starts to reach the horizon. They get up wordlessly and head for the jet ski. Beca jumps on behind Chloe, and they set off towards the lake house. Beca squeezes Chloe a little tighter and smiles a little bigger during the ride home, feeling more at ease than she has in months.

#bechloe week #bechloe #sorry if youre on mobile and this is really long!! #bechloe week 2018 #bechloeweek #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #pp2 #pp3 #my fics #they all say that nothing ever changes #bechloe fanfiction

[literaryspinster]

Forever Yours, Iris West

For those of you faithfully following Heart In A Cage, I have not forgotten that story and will have an update soon. 

Chapter 3: The First Day Of School

On the first day of senior year, I put on my new green sweater and tweed mini skirt, and I braid my long black hair to the side so it hangs over my shoulder, This is my last first day of school before college, so I need to make it a good one, whether Scott keeps ghosting me or not. I can understand Scott avoiding Linda the last three weeks of summer, but me? I wasn’t the one who broke up with him, yet he hasn’t answered my texts with anything more than vague, one word responses. And of course it’s at the back of my mind that we’re co editors of the student newspaper together, but I’ve never had a problem separating the personal from the professional when it comes to Scott. 

When we’re in the newsroom together our number one focus is always getting the next big scoop.This will be fine, I may not have Linda, I may not even have Scott, but at least I can’t call myself friendless. Me and Cynthia have three classes together this year. Cynthia is Felicity’s cousin through marriage, although I’m not sure who in their families is married to whom.  She said she’d meet me out front so we could walk in together, just in case Felicity tries to corner me again. 

She’s been doing that ever since she started going out with Barry Allen, and I still don’t really get why. I haven’t had those feelings for Barry in years. I’m not even sure why I ever did in the first place except for maybe the fact that he has pretty eyes, and is smarter than most guys at school. But he’s still goofy, and never really says the right thing and is completely oblivious to the fact that Felicity and I aren’t friends until I have to remind him for the 300th time.

Me and Wally pile into the car so I can drive him to his school before I drive myself to mine. It’s Linda’s car, she asked me to take care of it while she’s gone because that’s just the kind of damn good friend she is. I’m reminded of just how much I’m going to miss her yet again as I turn the key in the ignition and hear it roar to life.

“So, do you think Linda’s going to visit for Christmas?” Wally asks faux-casually as we pull out of the driveway and start down the street, the stereo playing some punk band he loves. 

“Oh my God,” I roll my eyes and smile at him. “You aren’t even subtle Wally, you know she’s too old for you right?”

“She’s only six years older, Priyanka Chopra is ten years older than Nick Jonas.”

“Since when are you so into celeb couples?” I ask, and he stays quiet. “Please don’t tell me you Googled that so you could find out if you and Linda have a chance.”

“No,” he says unconvincingly, and I shake my head as he turns up the music.

We pull up to the front of his school, and there is a girl with sandy brown hair and blue eyes standing facing the street while a horde of overexcited tweens rush around behind her. She waves as I pull up and Wally waves back. 

“Who’s that,” I ask, trying not to tease. I’ve gotten enough sisterly teasing out of my system for the morning, although I’m still curious.

“Oh, that’s Jesse,” he says. “She’s just a friend,” he adds quickly as if he’s reading my mind. 

“Have a good first day all right sis, try to meet some people.”

“I have to say I’m feeling a little dragged over here, shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

He smiles and gives me a little goodbye wave. He’s such a twerp, but I wave back.

“I love you,” I say.

“love you, too,” He says before walking off with Jesse. And I’ve always liked that about Wally, no matter how much of a brat he can be sometimes, he’s never embarrassed to say it back. 

I get to school half an hour early. Although I start to wish I would have stopped for coffee first when I realize how packed the front lawn is with students, hugging each other hello after their summers apart, telling vacation stories back and forth, flipping through Instagram photos.

Was it always like this before Linda left?

I start making my way through to the double doors in front. I don’t keep my head down, it isn’t my style, but I hope no one tries to accost me for a summer break recap that I couldn’t possibly make interesting for them. I spent most of it either hanging out with my baby brother or another couple. Deep down I know how sad that is, that Wally’s right and I need to meet people. And I used to love having lots of friends, places to go on Saturdays, but then… 

I don’t know, being little miss social butterfly again feels besides the point. Popularity just isn’t as important as anyone thinks it is. It can’t make you happy when you’re already so sad.

Speak of the Devil, I stop short when I see her there, in front of the double doors like she was planning this. She looks great as usual, her perfectly tousled blonde hair down from its signature ponytail, her horn rimmed glasses sitting on her nose like they’re meant to make her look more approachable, but are doing about as good a job as they did on Rachel Leigh Cook in She’s All That. Jesus Christ I should have went through the back. 

I turn on one heel and try to redirect before she sees me.

“Iris, hey!” she says, and I squeeze my eyes shut and curse under my breath at her fake-cheery voice. She saw me. 

I turn back around and fake a smile, feeling a bit like a hypocrite.“Felicity,” I walk up to her like I have weights in my shoes. “How was your summer?”

“Awesome,” She says, nearly exploding like she’s been holding her breath until she could tell me. “Coding camp in Tokyo was wonderful. You so should have come. I mean I know coding’s not really your thing.”

“It’s not not my thing, just kind of focused on journalism right now.”

“That’s great, and it’s so cool that you’re into old fashioned things but do you really think a newspaper reporter is a solid career path?”

“Gee, I don’t know Felicity, maybe I’ll call you from my cardboard box in ten years and let you know,” 

I start for the entry bar, but I’m told to stop by the only voice I want to hear as little as Felicity’s”

“Iris, Felicity, what’s up?” Barry says cheerfully. He always says my name first when I’m standing next to Felicity and I don’t get why. He’s so weird in every possible way and I wish Cynthia would come rescue me. already.

Barry slinks his arm around Felicity and gives me a friendly nod. “How was your summer?”

The dreaded question, I reply with a simple, noncommittal, “cool”My hand is still on the entry bar of the door.

“Just cool, no details?” Barry says.

“Nope, not a one.”

“There probably just aren’t a lot of summer internship programs or camps for journalism anymore,” Felicity says in such a way that Barry can’t detect how bitchy she’s being. Not like he’d defend me anyway, and honestly, why should he? I’m not his girl.

“That’s ridiculous,” Barry says, like he means it. “I mean, I read your articles all the time there’s no way there’s not something out there for you.”

Why does he always insist on complimenting me in front of her? He must know that it pisses her off, unless he really is that dense. I guess book smarts and emotional intelligence are two entirely different things. But I see the way her face changes, how her eyes narrow a bit. She reaches up to play with the collar of his button-down.

“By the way Iris, I’m really sorry you didn’t get an invite to my laser tag party. If I had known you wanted to go I’m sure I could moved some things around and squeezed you in,” Felicity says.

Goddamnit Barry, I think to myself, of course he told her about our asinine conversation the other day. And right now I’m finding it hard to pick who I want to strangle more.

“I never said I wanted to go, I was busy that day anyway.”

“That’s what I told her,” he says, looking a bit embarrassed. “That’s what I told you,” he quickly repeats over to her.

Felicity shrugs, “Heh, must have misheard. In any case it was a blast.”

I finally push the entry bar, ready to make my escape, when finally, by some annoyingly belated miracle, Cynthia shows up.

“What up uglies?” she says, nodding at them as she hangs an arm around me. 

“Hey cuz,” She says to Felicity. “Good to see you’re feeling better after that bug you caught in Tokyo.”

“Bug?” I say, finally curious about the summer vacation Felicity’s been desperate to lord over me.

“Yeah, didn’t your mom tell my mom that you were basically catatonic with plane flu the entire first week and you had to be separated from the other kids and you never got to finish your app or something?” Cynthia continues.

“No, that- none of that happened, I mean it didn’t happen like that,” Felicity babbles anxiously. It must have happened exactly like that, and I feel suddenly redeemed. Thank you Queen Cynthia.

“Hmm,” Cynthia shrugs, “Must have misheard, anywho, catch ya later.”

She hooks arms with me and we finally slam through the door.

“Not a moment too soon,” I say.

“Ignore her, she’s just pissy because you look amazing. I bet she was hoping you’d show up to the first day with a massive zit or a bad haircut or the herps or something.”

“You have a very odd way of lifting my spirits Cynthia.”

“I do my best.”

I nudge her playfully, feeling better. Maybe I don’t have loads of friends, but it’s nice to have one awesome one, even if I had to survive my ill-fated friendship with Felicity to get it. 

The day goes by glacially. It’s still at the back of my mind that it’s the first day of school, but it feels just like any other day, like the work is too easy and the folks in the halls are too gossipy and everything sucks and I want to go home. By the time last period rolls around, I’m relieved, not only because it’s nearing the end of the day, but because my last period is journalism. The student newspaper is my ultimate safe space, even with things being uncomfortable with Scott. 

As always he’s the first one in class, already jotting down something in a notepad. I sit at the same table to show that we’re still cool, but still two chairs away to give him his space.I take out my notebook too, even though I can’t think of any notes to write down when we haven’t even been assigned our beats for the semester. 

I look over at him, and realize he’s looking at me too.“Hey there,” I say with an uncertain voice.

“Hey yourself.” he says back. It’s quiet and nearly awkward as we both think of what to say next. He wore that checkered shirt today, with the sleeves rolled up, and I really hope one day I can look at him without picturing him laying me down on this table. I’d never go there, I’d never do that to Linda, but I can’t always help where my imagination wanders, even when I’m mad at him.

“Look,” he says before I can slip too far into my mind. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant, it’s just, the whole Linda thing and—

“Its okay, really,” I say, and I realize that it is. Maybe it’s just the thrill of being in journalism again, the smell of pulp and toner cartridges and red pens. But I’m finding it hard to stay mad at Scott, even as he still looks like he’s not sure what’s next

 “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Before I can say anything else, the rest of the students and Mr. Bridge start to pour in. I give Scott one last smile before turning my attention to the front of the room. I can tell there’s still tension in the air, and maybe Scott can too, because next thing he leans over to whisper.

“I missed you,” he says, and I whisper that I missed him too.

 The first day of student newspaper is always a little bit uneventful. Nothing has happened yet so there aren’t any scoops to tackle. Mostly we just get reaquainted with each other and get to know the newbies, pitch potential story ideas, and anxiously await our beat assignments.

Scott’s beat this year is the art and drama departments, not his first choice, but one he’ll happily sink his teeth into. My beat is the math and science departments, because of course it is. Mr. Bridge says that I’m too good a writer to not ever leave my comfort zone, and that important things were happening in those departments this year. But all I can imagine is having to cover Felicity’s stupid IT club. 

And I realize I’m thinking about her again when I really don’t want to be. Why does she have to be such a bitch to me all of the time? She wasn’t always. She was a good friend once, and I know that good friend is still in there somewhere. 

I head out to Linda’s loaner car, thinking that aside from gently starting to get things back to normal with Scott, this is already looking to be the quite the sub standard school year. And when I hear that too familiar voice again behind me, that feeling is instantly multiplied.

“Iris, hey Iris,” Barry calls, and I turn to face him but grab for my keys at the same time.

“I really don’t have a lot of time Barry, I have to pick up my brother.”

“I promise I’ll be quick.” He stops in front of me and I decide to hear him out. But he just stands there, looking at me.

“Well, what?” I say, breaking the pause.

“I just wanted to apologize for this morning. I guess I didn’t realize it in the moment but Felicity was being sort of not cool back there, and I just, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her, I promise.”

“Please don’t” I say, knitting my brow in frustration. “You talking to your girlfriend about me is exactly the problem.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. You just came up and then the party came up. I didn’t know it was going to be a whole thing.”

“It’s not a whole thing. But is it really so much to ask that you two leave me alone? I mean, Felicity obviously has some issue with me, and maybe it’s not exactly one-sided but I think it would be easier for everyone if you’d just, you know, lay off.”

He sighs, and rubs his forehead before looking at me again. “That’s fair,” he says. “And I really am sorry, again. It’s just—

“What? It’s just what?”

“Nothing, nevermind. Okay, we’ll lay off. Promise.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

There’s another long pause before I walk around to the driver’s side of my car and duck in. By the time I drive off he’s still standing there, like the conversation isn’t over.

Next Up: Chapter 4, The Sad Girl

#westallen #iris west allen #barry allen #the flash #felicity smoak #wally west #cynthia reynolds #scott evans

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter four: $80

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3

fun fact i actually finished this like.....tuesday at 4 am cause i died for a bit between like 10-1 and then couldnt sleep. i have edited it since then tho so i promise its not too much of a disaster!

warnings: implied past self harm, discussions of mental health, depression/depressive episodes, some suicidal thoughts. let me know if anything else needs to be tagged

enjoy!

From: Evan To: Connor      Just go t home      Hope things ar eok with yoru family

Connor stares at the texts for a few moments before he falls back onto his bed.

Who knows how his family is.

Actually, he knows. A fucking mess. That’s what his family is.

He can hear Zoe practicing in the room next to him, forgoing headphones and using her amp because she wants to piss him off more. Larry had slunk back to his office, and Connor was sure he did as soon as the opportunity presented itself. His mom is in the kitchen, probably aggressively cleaning dishes like a sparkling plate will fix her shattered family.

Connor stares at the ceiling.

Why did he think he could do any of this?

He lifts his phone and looks at the screen again. Evan is trying. Which is just ridiculous. Evan is trying with this family. What the fuck.

From: Connor To: Evan      cool      they never are but thanks i guess

He tosses his phone to the side and debates doing homework. There’s not really much of a debate — he’s not going to do it — but the fact that he considered it is probably worth something.

It’s not that late yet, which is frustrating. He wants to go to bed, but he’s also too high strung for that. Usually he’d be exhausted but—

Connor studies his ceiling.

He’d been angry. So angry. Burning and explosive. He had been on the edge of his rope and about to break— and then he’d been doused in a shock of cold water. He’d been standing outside the bathroom, insides blistering and turning to ash, and then he’d heard Evan’s unnatural breathing and all of that had just stopped. The fire was gone and he was left with only mild panic that made his mouth taste like metal and an icy chill of not knowing what to do or how to help.

Somehow, sitting on the floor of him and Zoe’s painfully childish bathroom with Evan had been the most real part of the night. It felt the most solid, most tangible. Handing Evan one of those silly cups his mom kept buying, their fingers brushing as Evan took it with shaking hands, that was the most grounded he had felt in days.

Fucking weird.

There’s a knock on his doorframe.

Connor sits up to see Cynthia standing there. “Oh. Hi.”

She smiles, sadly because that’s the only way she smiles nowadays, and takes a step into his room. “Did Evan leave?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s not like he could hide in my closet or anything.” They both look toward the disaster that is Connor’s closet. The doors won’t shut and clothes are piled up on the floor. There was a time where Connor liked things to be neat and orderly. Now he doesn’t have the energy. “He wasn’t feeling great.”

She makes a concerned noise.

“He, uh, gets sick really easily. He’ll probably be fine tomorrow.” Connor curses in his head. Better jot that down so he can tell Evan that Cynthia now thinks that his immune system is shitty. Because she’s probably going to shove all sorts of vitamins and health drinks at him the next time she sees him. If there’s a next time.

God there better not be a next time.

Cynthia sighs. “I’m sorry about tonight, sweetie.”

Connor shrugs and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “It’s not like it was going to be any different than usual.”

The expression on her face is so pained that Connor has to look away. He can’t even be mad at her. He’s pissed at Zoe for her snippy comments. He’s mad at Larry because he’s always mad at Larry. He’s upset with his mom— the most he can be upset with her for is for not trying harder to stop things from getting out of hand. But when has she ever been able to stop it once it started?

Mostly Connor is just mad at himself.

The only reason Evan was here was because he gets paid twenty dollars a week. It’s not like he has any other obligation to be here. Or to hang around Connor. If there was ever a chance that Evan would actually like Connor, that just went out the fucking window.

“Are you hungry?” Cynthia asks, softly. Not as forced as usual. Not as pressing. “You didn’t eat much.”

“I’m fine,” Connor mutters. He tugs off his sweatshirt and throws it on his desk chair. He tries not to notice her eyes going to his arms and then flicking away. “I’ll grab something if I can’t sleep.”

She sighs again. She does that a lot. Sighing. “Okay. Okay, just…” She steps forward and brushes hair away from Connor’s eyes. “Apologize to Evan for us, okay?”

“Why?” Connor asks bitterly. “Because we can be better?”

Cynthia doesn’t say anything. She just stands on her toes and presses a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Sleep well, honey.”

Connor stands in the center of his room after she leaves. He hates not having a door. It’s like his entire life is out in the open for his entire family to see and judge. Which is some bullshit.

He looks around his room, open and exposed, and thinks that he should clean. Or something. He’s living in a dump.

Connor picks up a sweatshirt and stuffs a few books onto an overflowing bookshelf. Under papers from junior year that he just needs to throw out when he gets the chance, he finds a watercolor sketchbook.

He pauses with four old plastic water bottles in arm to flip through the sketchbook. It’s old as hell, he doesn’t even remember the last time he used watercolors. Or did any art that wasn’t just shitty sketches in his notebook when he didn’t feel like paying attention.

He looks over his shoulder at the light in the hallway.

Connor isn’t entirely sure where his watercolors are. Probably somewhere under the trash and clothing covering his floor. He looks from the watercolor sketchbook to his bed.

He dumps the water bottles in the space between his wall and his bed and starts digging. It takes him almost twenty five minutes to find his watercolor palette. It’s old and dusty, the red is cracked and the purple is almost gone because he always really liked using purple for some reason, but it’s usable.

It takes him a little longer to find brushes. He’s definitely missing some, but fuck it, he never actually knew what the different brushes were for. He just used whatever ones he felt like.

He washes out an old mug that was on his desk from god knows when in the bathroom and fills it with clean water, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the hallway closet. Then he pushes the clothes on his floor into a pile against the wall so he can sit on the floor, because there is no way in hell that he’s cleaning off his desk for this. He fishes his earbuds out of his backpack and plugs them into his phone, turning on some random music that he’ll let fade to into background noise and pulls his hair up into a really messy ponytail.  

Connor can’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to art. He doodles a sketch that’s kind of messy but fine enough because it’s not like anyone is going to see this and then just goes for it. He doesn’t exactly remember how to do this, but he’s never been one for doing things the right way. There’s a reason he stopped taking art classes after freshman year. There’s something weirdly calming about the way the water spreads on the page and something familiar in the brushstrokes. Even when he fucks up and uses way too much water and he knows that the paper is going to be wavy and warped.

He puts down the paintbrush to skip a song on his phone. He has another text from Evan.

From: Evan To: Connor      Im sorr y      YOu should nt feel that way abou tyour family

Connor rolls his eyes. Evan really does try.

From: Connor To: Evan      its whatever, im used to it      mom says sorry about tonight. shes embarrassed      but seriously dont worry about it

He skips through the songs until he finds one that feels right, slower and almost more gentle, he really needs to pick up better watercolors because he’s going to need that purple, before putting his phone back down on the floor next to him.

All things considered, this isn’t the worst piece Connor’s ever done. He studies it as he takes a sip from his mug.

He yanks the mug away from his mouth, gagging. He rubs his mouth with a grimace.

That was paint water.

Connor doesn’t really leave his room much over the next two days. He eats because his mom wants him to, he doesn’t talk to Zoe, and he argues with Larry and wishes he had a door to slam.

Then he sits on his floor and fills pages and pages of his sketchbook with shitty watercolor paintings.

He splashes colors across the pages, sometimes not even trying to create a coherent image. He just needs something to do.

He’s almost out of purple.

Connor waits by Evan’s locker Monday morning, folding and unfolding the twenty dollar bill in his pocket. Zoe needed to be early today for some band thing, so that means Connor is early which just sucks.

This school seriously needs a color palette that isn’t drab and depressing. Connor wears almost exclusively black, but fuck, tone down the gray.

“Oh! Hey, you’re…already here.”

Connor looks up from his phone. “Zoe,” he says. “Band shit. Fuck if I know.”

Evan nods slowly and then reaches for his lock.

“Wait.” Connor grabs Evan’s wrist.

Evan freezes, wide eyes darting to Connor. “W-what?”

Connor leans a little closer. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispers. Evan furrows his eyebrows. “My family is the fucking worst, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit.”

“I-it’s fine!” Evan stutters. “I don’t— no this is. This is okay.” He slowly pulls his arm out of Connor’s grip.

Connor clenches his jaw and leans against the next locker. Evan doesn’t say anything as he opens his locker and starts taking out books. An unfairly loud part of Connor’s brain wonders if Evan is only doing this because he’s scared.

It’s not that far fetched.

“B-besides,” Evan adds, “Jared is— he’s already asking too many questions and if we just stopped now—”

Connor frowns. “He is?”

Evan gives him an exasperated look. “He hasn’t texted me about non homework things in forever and he’s just been sending me ‘is it a sex thing’ for a week.”

“Wow I hate him,” Connor says before he can stop himself.

Evan laughs in surprise.

“He’s a douche!”

Evan ducks his head. “He’s not the worst person ever, b-but he can be…himself.”

“And that’s pretty bad,” Connor mutters.  

Evan pauses and then closes his locker. “Do— are you still okay with…with telling him?”

Connor shrugs. “Sounds like we have no choice.”

Evan tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Are you…free today?”

“I literally have no life or friends, Hansen,” Connor reminds him. “I’m always free.”

“Okay, right, okay.” Evan takes a short breath. “Can we— today?”

Connor stuffs his hands in his pockets. He hasn’t gotten harassed by Kleinman about this yet, but if they wait, the chances of that happening increase significantly. And if it’ll get Jared off Evan’s back— “Yeah sure. Where?”

“My place?” Evan asks. Connor pulls open the door to the stairwell. “I-if that works?”

“Sure thing.” Connor’s voice echoes uncomfortably loud for this conversation. “Better than being at home anyway.”

Evan glances back over his shoulder at Connor. “Are things…bad?” He says it slowly, like he’s not sure what word to choose.

“They’ve been worse,” Connor admits. “But it’s not a party.”

Evan stops at the stairs where Connor has to keep going down to get to chorus. “I’ll— I’ll text you? About the time?”

Connor nods. “Sounds good, Hansen. See you then.” He steps forward and hands Evan the twenty that has been floating around in his pocket for too long. “Forgot to pay you back for food last week,” he says when Evan’s eyes dart toward people walking past.

Evan gives him a half smile and takes the bill. “I-I told you it was fine. I can pay sometimes.”

Connor shrugs and turns toward the stairs. “Too late.”

—«·»—

From: Evan To: Connor      Im s o s rry just ignore him or block him he grabbed my phon e      Serious ly blockign him mihgt be the best opti n

From: Connor To: Evan      ??????

Connor probably shouldn’t be texting in class, but the class is astronomy and also when has Connor ever given a fuck. He stares at Evan’s messages, trying to decode them while he waits for the lunch bell.

It turns out he doesn’t have to wait that long to figure out what they mean.

From: [phone] To: nerd, emo      sup fuckers

Connor doesn’t even have to ask who it is, he just tries not to groan and texts Evan.

From: Connor To: Evan      seriously??

From: Evan To: Connor      Im sorry !!!      Hes being a  d ick      Also does like 3 work?

Connor huffs and glances to the clock. That’ll give him about an hour to kill after school before he can show up at Evan’s. Whatever, he’ll figure something out.

From: Connor To: Evan      thats fine      tell kleinman if hes being a dick i will hurt him

Evan’s response is almost immediate.

From: Evan To: Connor      I wouldnt blame you but ma y be dotn hurt the one pe rson whos gonna knw about us

Connor snorts and puts away his phone. He’ll do his best, but only because Evan asked.

—«·»—

Connor texts Evan as he walks up to the house. The door is open before he can even knock. Evan looks slightly panicked, but also somewhat relieved. Connor lowers his hand from where he was about to knock.

“He here?”

Evan nods and grabs Connor’s sleeve, tugging him inside.

Connor takes off his boots while Evan rambles on about Jared being in his room and talking about something, summer camp? Maybe? And then there’s a tangent about cars? Connor isn’t sure but he puts down his boots, straightens, and puts a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Breathe,” he interrupts. “You’re going to pass out and you really don’t want to leave Kleinman and I alone together.”

Evan takes a slow breath. “Right. Right. He’s… Come on.”

He shows Connor up the stairs, gesturing vaguely to a bathroom as he moves toward his room. Connor didn’t really notice how small Evan’s house is the last time he was here, but now he feels too large in it, like he’s taking up too much space. But it’s also comforting in a weird way, less empty space for thoughts to echo.

Jared spins around in Evan’s desk chair when Evan opens the door. “Man of the hour!” Jared announces, opening his arms in Connor’s direction.

Connor flips him off.

“Okay, rude. I can work with rude.”

“Jared,” Evan says warningly.

“I know, I know.” Jared spins back and forth a little in the chair. For some reason, Connor thinks giving him a chair that turns may have been a bad idea. “If I’m an ass you won’t give me pizza.”

Connor scoffs. “You bribed him?”

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I just— can we not talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees. “I was promised juicy deets on whatever the fuck this is.” He motions between Connor and Evan. “Cause uh,” he laughs, “guys, what the shit?”

“We aren’t friends,” Connor says flatly.

Evan twists the hem of his shirt in his hands.

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Jared grabs the arms of the chair and leans forward. “Wait this is a sex thing, isn’t it! Evan you said—”

“It’s not a sex thing!” Evan shouts. “It’s a—” He looks to Connor with wide eyes. “A…fake friend…thing?”

“Excuse me?”

Connor explains before Evan can flounder any more. “I give Evan twenty bucks a week to pretend to be my friend.”

Jared stares at them.

Evan shifts uncomfortably next to Connor. Connor kind of wants to leave, but Evan wants to do this, so…

Jared snorts. “Are you fucking serious?”

Evan cringes. “Y-yes?”

“This is—”

“We know, Kleinman,” Connor snaps. “But we need your help.”

Evan looks at Connor in surprise. ‘We do?’ he mouths to Connor. Connor nods. Spur of the moment thought, but he literally can’t keep dealing with Zoe bugging him about Evan. Who gives a shit if they never hung out together around school, even if that is a lie. He needs some sort of proof so she shuts up.

Jared spins slowly in his chair. “How so?”

“Evan said we emailed each other,” Connor says. “But my dad checks my email. So this email account would have to be ‘secret’.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “That’s—”

“We know, Jared!” Evan interrupts. “C-can you just—” He glances toward Connor. “We need…emails from over the summer?” Connor nods. “Can you just, like, show me how to fake the timestamps o-or something?”

“Oh yeah, that’s super easy,” Jared says. He leans down and unzips the backpack leaning against the desk and pulls out a laptop. He opens the laptop and types something out. “Secret email account is very—”

Connor grits his teeth. “Just do it, Kleinman.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch the monkey dance,” Jared mutters to himself. “That’s super fun.” He pauses. “If Evan gets twenty bucks a week for this, what do I get?”

“The gift of life.”

Evan shoots Connor a look.

“Awesome.” Jared types for another moment. “You know,” he says, “twenty bucks seems pretty cheap.”

“Are you trying to be difficult?” Connor grumbles.

“Always.”

“I-it’s fine,” Evan stutters. “Re-really, Jared?”

“I’m just saying,” Jared says with a shrug. “You should totally charge more for more complicated stuff. Twenty for faking friendship, forty for hanging out, sixty for being around the family.”

“What?!”

Connor glances to Evan out of the corner of his eye. Evan is protesting, but it’s not the worst idea. Especially after the dinner that Evan suffered through. Connor is going to have to ‘borrow’ more money from his parents’ wallets, but hey, at least it’s not for weed.

“I really fucking hate that I’m saying this,” Jared and Evan look over to Connor, “but that’s not a terrible plan.”

Jared smirks. “Nice.”

Evan gapes. “W-what?”

“If you spend a few hours dealing with my shitty family, that probably is worth more than saying hi to me in the hallway.” Connor crosses his arms. “I should probably pay you more when you have to deal with more bullshit.”

“N-no, that isn’t— you don’t have to—”

“Let him give you money, Evan.” Jared types rapidly on his laptop. “I’m making you two up a fucking price chart for reference.”

“Jared—”

“One condition,” Connor says. “If we’re doing this it’s only ten dollars a week, if that’s okay,” he directs the last part to Evan. “I’m not a goddamn millionaire.”

“Annoying but valid,” Jared says. “The weekly flat rate is ten dollars then, nonnegotiable.”

Evan sinks down into the other chair that someone had pulled up to the desk.

“I think the first step up is hanging out outside of school.” Jared glances to Connor.

Connor nods. “Three for outside, five for my house.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Evan asks weakly.

“Nope,” Jared says, popping the ‘p’. “If hanging out involves the fam, I say it’s an instant five more.”

“How about two added on to the location fee,” Connor argues.

Jared scoffs. “That’s three dollars, man.”

“Try to remember we’re high schoolers,” Connor says flatly.

Evan wimpers.

Jared pats Evan’s arm. “Okay. Extended family is another three. No arguing that one, extended family is bullshit. Twenty bucks flat for a sleepover. Like on top of the weekly ten.”

Evan’s eyes go wide. “What?! No!”

Jared looks to Connor.

Connor shrugs. “Fine.” He doesn’t think that will be relevant but whatever. If it gets written down it’s not the end of the world.

Jared smiles to himself and starts to type quickly.

“W-what are you doing?” Evan asks, leaning closer to try and get a look at the screen.

Jared elbows Evan away. “Shh I’m working.”

Connor raises his eyebrows.

“Aaaaaand…done.” Jared spins his laptop to show Connor.

Connor squints at the list Jared has made on the document.

 This is the Worst Plan I’ve Ever Heard But Have Fun You Friendless Losers created by Jared Kleinman

$10 — weekly flat rate no matter what

—

Casual Shit:

$3 — hanging out outside of school $5 — hanging out at the Murphys’ (+$2 to location fee if it involves other Murphys) (+$3 more if it involves any extended family) $20 — sleepover

—

Romance Shit:

$25 — date $5 — hug $15 — kiss $200 — Full Boyfriend Package™

(FFBP™ decreases all things in this section by $10, except for dates, which drop to $20. No, you do not get paid for hugs, hugs are just free now. Congrats, you just paid two hundred fucking dollars for a free hug)

 Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he deadpans.

Evan pales as he reads it once Jared has turned the screen toward him. “Uh…”

Jared snorts. “It’s called a joke, dude. Learn to take it.”

“J-just delete it,” Evan stammers. “That’s not— we were supposed to make emails.”

“Okay.” Jared highlights the romance section and deletes it. “It’s gone.”

Evan sighs. “Thank you.”

Jared does a keyboard shortcut. “And it’s back!”

“Jared!”

“Gone! And back!”

Evan’s ears turn pink. “S-seriously?”

Jared just wiggles his eyebrows and deletes it again. When he starts to hit undo, Connor leans forward and grabs the laptop out of his hands.

“Dude!”

“We aren’t fucking five,” Connor says. “Can you help us with these emails before my sister tries to call a fucking private detective on me or are you just going to be a dickhead?”

“That’s no way to talk to someone who’s helping you out,” Jared says. But he holds out his hand for the laptop, and when Connor gives it back, he spins around, puts the laptop on the desk, and opens a new tab.

Him and Connor set up a new email account and then Jared has Evan open up his own email. As Jared sets up faked emails that Evan and Connor will fill with mindless shit, Connor looks around Evan’s room.

There’s a window with two small succulents sitting on its windowsill. There are pictures scattered around the room in mismatched frames, a lot of Evan and a woman he assumes is his mother, more than a few of Evan and Jared when they were younger but less and less as they get older until there’s none, and one small picture of Evan with a man that looks vaguely like him that sits on the corner of Evan’s desk, a stack of books obscuring it slightly.

Connor remembers Evan saying something about his dad and looks away.

Evan’s room is much smaller than Connor’s. It’s cozier and cleaner, but still untidy. The books in Evan’s shelves are piled up and tipping over, there are a few sweatshirts draped around the room, and there’s a terrifying looking pile of papers on his nightstand.

“Yo,” Jared says, holding out his laptop to Connor. “Work out what you want these to say with Evan so I can finish this. While you do that I’m going to find some snacks.”

“We’re out,” Evan answers almost immediately from where he’s bent over his laptop.

“I’m going out to buy snacks,” Jared corrects. “See you in a bit, losers.”

Connor stares at the blank form that Jared has pulled up on the screen. How many of these things is he going to have to do and is this going to turn into a school assignment?

“It’s probably easier if one of us starts,” Evan murmurs. “And then we just go back and forth and respond to whatever the other says.”

“Like actual emails.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just faster.”

“Sure. Let’s keep the things that can mark when this shit got sent to a minimum, okay?” Connor’s summer is a blur. He spent probably too much of it high and another big majority of it just doing nothing. Looking back at it, it all just blends together into a mess of shitty and shittier.

Evan nods. “Mhm. I’ll start if you want.”

“Go wild.”

As Evan types, Connor clicks through the other tabs Jared has open. One for the email account, a few google searches, a coding thing Connor doesn’t understand, and the price list. Jared put the romance section back.

Connor makes a note on the document that just says ‘youre a dick’ and clicks back to the dauntingly blank form.

An hour later, Evan has finished his sixth email, Connor is typing out a shitty response, and Jared has shown up with enough chips to feed a small nation. They figure out how to space the emails they’ve already written and Jared gets to work on finishing up the ones they’ve got written.

“Should we do the whole summer?” Evan asks.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t care, Zoe will probably buy it with one or two.”

Jared spins back and forth as he adds all the timestamps. “Someone order a pizza, I’m dying.”

Evan checks the time. “Jared it’s only—”

“Yeah? And?”

“You just ate like an entire bag of chips.”

Jared looks up at Evan. “When has that ever stopped me from eating an entire pizza?”

Evan shakes his head. “W-whatever. The usual?”

Jared shoots him a finger gun as he types with one hand.

“I’ll go with,” Connor says. He follows Evan down to the kitchen to see another twenty dollar bill in the center of the table. “Want me to call it in?” he asks.

Evan nods. “Jared always gets a supreme. If he doesn’t finish he just brings it home.”

Fair, Connor would do the same if he cared more about eating. He can only handle so much of his mom’s cooking. Connor places the call and then waits with Evan at the table. “Does your mom have you get takeout a lot?” he asks, looking at the bill.

Evan follows his gaze. “Uh… I-I mean…yeah. She works all day at the hospital, she’s a nurse, a-and then takes night classes at the college,” he gestures vaguely toward the street and Connor assumes he means the community college that people who are ambitious like Alana Beck go to to take summer classes so they look more impressive to admissions, “so…she doesn’t really have ti-time to cook and I’m— I’m not very good at it,” Evan mumbles. “I can do…ramen? Um…mac n cheese. Instant stuff. Other than that I can make like…pasta and grilled cheese and that’s…sort of it. But she doesn’t have a lot of time to go to the grocery store and I, uh, don’t like going so. Takeout is…easier.”

Connor nods. “I get that. You can’t go wrong with ramen noodles. One day we’ll both be living off them,” he jokes.

Evan looks to him in surprise. He smiles a little. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Connor suddenly realizes that he talked about the future casually. About college casually, because he can remember one time when he was little and sick and Larry made ramen noodles for him and Connor had decided that they were the best thing ever and Larry had ruffled his hair and said that he’d get sick of them when they were all he ate in college. It’s uncomfortable. It settles wrong inside him. Because outside of the context of that one quip, the future doesn’t feel real. It feels like some untouchable abstract concept.

Thinking about it makes his stomach turn and makes dark thoughts creep in from the corners of his mind.

He shakes them away and listens to Evan talk about how he’s ruined soup before. It’s better than thinking about a future that hardly exists, one that he’s ready to cut the string on at almost any given moment in time.

Evan buries his face in his hands as he tells Connor about the time Jared tried to make eggs in the microwave and almost set fire to the house. Connor laughs and pretends he’s okay.

When the pizza arrives, Connor pays the delivery person while Evan goes and gets Jared. It’s too early for dinner, but Jared doesn’t care and eats two slices before going upstairs to grab his laptop and then eats another. Evan eats breadsticks and lets Jared carry most of the conversation, about half of which is about how weird Connor eats his pizza.

Evan makes Connor take a slice of pizza back, because he ends up missing dinner at home, and Connor just rolls his eyes and takes the plastic tupperware and promises to give it back at some point. Evan shakes his head and tells him not to, because they have too much and they can never find lids that match. Connor figures he’ll just slip it back into a cabinet the next time he comes over.

Next time. Connor doesn’t think in next times. Weird.

#connor murphy #evan hansen #jared kleinman #deh #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #welcome to Hell

[ladyfantasist]

Reread, Rewrite or Burn - Book Tag

This tag is very popular on Booktube and even though I’m not a booktuber it looked exciting so I just couldn’t help doing it myself on paper! I saw it first a few days ago on BooksWithEmilyFox’s channel so PLEASE go check out her videos on Youtube or her Goodreads page if you haven’t already she is a wonderful Booktuber and a total sweetheart – watching her videos always makes me happy.

I chose a lot of my favorite books to make this as hard for me as possible… prayers are welcome. I ended up doing a lot of rounds because it was ridiculous addicting. Most people do like three to six but I did twelve because I’m just beyond extra.

Also I am a total nerd and decided to add a difficultly level to each round! Next to each round you’ll see either Normal, Hard, or Brutal. Normal meaning it was fairly clear from first picking them out which one would be which, Hard meaning it was a challenge to decide, and Brutal meaning it was absolute agony to have to choose between those books. I added this aspect to my own rounds simply because I’m not doing this via video but on paper – whoever is reading this won’t be able to see my reactions and won’t really know the difficulty each round was for me or how much time it took me to decide.

THE RULES:

- Randomly choose 3 books (I wrote down a bunch on slips of paper and put them in a hat to pick from.)

- For each group, decide which book to burn, which one to rewrite, and which to reread.

- Repeat until you completed however many rounds you want to do!

If you do one of your own PLEASE tag me in them! I’d love to see what you picked!

 ROUND 1 – Normal

Reread: Tower of Dawn by Sarah J. Maas. This was fairly simple, I LOVED this book and was already planning to reread it anyways. It was also the only five star book out of this round.

Rewrite: Ice Massacre by Tiana Warner. Wonderful novel but I didn’t fully enjoy the magical aspect of the town and would rewrite it to focus more on the romance because the romance is A+.

Burn: Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater. I enjoyed this book a lot but the last time I read it was around when it came out which is I believe around 2009. So, I was a freshman in high school and 14 years old. I have a pretty good feeling I would feel differently if I read it now – especially since I don’t like any of Stiefvater’s other novels I’ve read as an adult. I think about rereading it sometimes but I just don’t want to break the façade.

 ROUND 2 – Normal

Reread: Wolfsong by T.J. Klune. I pulled out this one first and immediately put it here. Easy. This book is fecking magically wonderful and I could never ever do any wrong to it.

Rewrite: Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor. The books in this trilogy are some of my favorite books of all time. I have to say though, I would have to go back and add more backstory to some of the new elements we learned in this book because it just felt a little thrown in randomly.

Burn: Passenger by Alexandra Bracken. A good book but not nearly as good as the other choices. Can be a bit forgettable.

 ROUND 3 – Normal

Reread: Saga Vol. 1 by Brian Vaughan. Saga is my favorite graphic novel series. I thought about putting this in rewrite but honestly there isn’t one thing I would change about it.

Rewrite: Paladin by Sally Slater. Great unknown author who deserves more attention. This novel was originally posted on Wattpad and I fell in love with it. I think I would rewrite it just to make the romance a little more believable.

Burn: My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand. A feel good guilty pleasure book. Not enough love for this to replace the other options.

 ROUND 4 – Hard

Reread: Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan. This book is so damned dear to my heart. A lgbtq romance novel between two boys one of which has autism and the other has severe anxiety and depression issues who are just trying to get each other through each day and be there for each other, their friends, and their family. If you haven’t read this PLEASE READ THIS.

Rewrite: Red Winter by Annette Marie. Japanese influenced novels are my kryptonite. Especially well written ones and this is one of them. The only thing I would ever change is maybe add a little less arrogance to Emi the main character – she can come off a bit prissy sometimes.

Burn: Consider by Kristy Acevedo. A great book that really makes you think, “what would I do in this situation?”. It’s a book you’ll be telling everyone about. Unfortunately it simply just lost out to two books I love more.

 ROUND 5 – Hard

Reread: The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden. My favorite book of 2016. Russian culture has always been fascinating to me and this book made that even stronger. This book is a damn masterpiece.

Rewrite: Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD CHANGE, DON’T YOU DARE PRETEND YOU DON’T KNOW.

Burn: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling. I’ll probably get hate for this one and I’m probably the only person who has chosen this but I’m sorry, I love it, it’s just not as dear to my heart as it is for most.

 ROUND 6 – Hard

Reread: Godsgrave by Jay Kristoff. Favorite novel of 2017 so far. There’s not a fecking chance I’m giving up Mia or rewriting one word of this book.

Rewrite: Scarlet by Marissa Meyer. My favorite character and pairing in the series is introduced in this book and I think I would rewrite it to be just a little less juvenile feeling in some places.

Burn: Uprooted by Naomi Novik. God I love this book I’m so sorry Uprooted… but as I was putting it in the rewrite slot at first I noticed how much I would actually change in this book and it was more than Scarlet, so it just had to be done.

 ROUND 7 – Brutal

Reread: The Bird and the Sword by Amy Harmon. All the feels are coming back… gosh I really need to reread this one. Nothing I would change about little Lark or her story. Full of magic and love and loss.

Rewrite: Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare. Emma and Julian’s relationship needs a little tweeking I think – make it a little less angsty and a little more real.

Burn: City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare. Okay I love this series and will to the end of my days. It’s awesome getting more to the story and seeing all the characters grow up even more and maturing… but, honestly I wouldn’t have been upset if the story had ended with City of Glass.

 ROUND 8 – Normal

Reread: The Host by Stephenie Meyer. This was actually the first “adult” novel I ever read. I read it in one sitting and laughed and cried and cried… I just loved it. I still go back and reread THE Wanda and Ian scene. I need to give this another read and even if I don’t love it as much as I used to it’ll be worth it. Now when IN THE HELL are we getting The Seeker and The Soul, Stephenie?

Rewrite: Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. In my opinion, it was an amazing novel but I think she went a BIT overboard with the “magical, airy, dreamy” prose. It’s beautiful and perfect in the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy but in this I think I would rewrite just to tone that down a little.

Burn: Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. Fecking Mal, I hate him. Useless boy. Alina x Darkling forever.

 ROUND 9 – Brutal

Reread: Morning Star by Pierce Brown. I mean, this is the third book in my favorite trilogy of all time how could I not put this here? Darrow has been crushed into my heart for all time. If you haven’t read these books I’m not completely sure we can be friends.

Rewrite: The Door Within by Wayne Thomas Batson. Guys, this is it, this is the first novel in the series that single handedly turned me into a reader. Ten year old Lisa’s soul changed after reading this, not even slightly joking. This book is a big part of why I am who I am today. The only reason it’s in the rewrite is because it is a middle grade novel and it would be cool to see what it would be like if it was written for the age I am now.

Burn: Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare. Jem Carstairs don’t hate me, I’m so sorry Jem, you know I love you! I’m so sorry Will please forgive me. Cheers to the only great love triangle written, I’m so sorry all of you.

 ROUND 10 – Hard

Reread: Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. Look I know these books have their flaws but I don’t care I simply love them and grew up with them I can’t change them or burn them I just CAN’T.

Rewrite: Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. I mean yes this needs to be rewritten to death but I don’t care how ridiculous it makes me I’m a Twi-hard for life I just can’t help myself.

Burn: Scythe by Neal Shusterman. I really enjoyed this book but it didn’t impact me enough to replace it with either of the other two that impacted me growing up.

 ROUND 11 – Normal

Reread: A Court of Mist and Fury. I’ve already reread this book three times, it’s one of my all time favorites and Rhysand is my husband – I put this here before I even picked the other two out.

Rewrite: Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I’m just nitpicking with this one, these novels are damn amazing, there isn’t really anything I would change. If ANYTHING maybe make the high society balls and intrigue a little less present.

Burn: Bird Box by Josh Malerman. Just couldn’t live up to my current favorite YA novel and current favorite adult fantasy series.

 ROUND 12 – Normal

Reread: Carry On by Rainbow Rowell. Just can’t get enough of these two honestly.

Rewrite: The Angel Experiment by James Patterson. Maximum Ride has a special place in my heart and I just SO BADLY would love it to be rewritten for my age group I want it so badly.

Burn: Reincarnation Blues by Michael Poore. A great novel but unfortunately the second half of this book is MUCH better than the first half.

#booktag #reread #rewrite #burn #books #fantasy #youngadult #scifi

[inquiringquilter]

Wednesday Wait Loss 138

Welcome to Wednesday Wait Loss. Please share what you’ve been working on!

First let me tell you what I've been up to

On Saturday I showed you my barn quilt, a wooden quilt that I made in a class at Always in Stitches, the quilt shop where I work. To learn more about it, click here.

On Tuesday, the Partners in Design announced the Grand Prize winner from our recent quilt along. Want to know more? Click here.

Well that was my week!

Now let's see who made this week's feature

Last week, we again had a lot of linkups to the Once Upon a Story blog hop, hosted by Marian @ Seams to be Sew. Each blog featured a block inspired by a fairy tale. Click the photos to visit each blog and see the wonderful quilts inspired by children’s fables.

Denise @ For the Love of Geese shared her favorite quilt block, as part of the My Favorite Block blog hop hosted by Carla @ Creatin’ in the Sticks. Denise’s favorite block is the Tiger Lily. Isn’t it wonderful?

Tami @ Thrift Shop Commando shared her finished art quilt from the Art with Fabric blog hop. Guess I need to get mine done sometime. <grin>

Finally, Vasudha @ Storied Quilts shared an awesome Penrose pillow tutorial. Go check it out!

Like last week, we had a lot of people link up for the first time to our Wednesday Wait Loss family. Please welcome Barbara @ Bdieges Designs, Sharon and Susan @ Ms. P Designs, Susan @ Duck Creek Mountain Quilting, Cynthia @ Cynthia ‘s Creating Ark, and Elizabeth @ Elizabeth Coughlin designs.

Welcome ladies! I hope you’ll continue to share your quilt projects with us.

Congratulations everyone! Here's an I Was Featured badge for your blogs or to simply print out and wear with pride! Thank you for supporting my blog!

Time to link up!

Now it’s your turn to link up your works in progress and recently completed quilts! Here are some quick reminders about the linky party:

By linking up, you give me permission to grab a photo or two to share here on Wednesday Wait Loss.

This linky is all about encouragement, so please visit a few of the links and leave a comment.

If you’re uploading a photo from your phone/computer, leave a comment below that explains your project. And for the rest of us, please reply to a few of these comments leaving words of encouragement for a quick finish.

Please link back to my post somewhere in your blog post or use @inquiringquilter and #wedwaitloss to tag me in your Instagram/Flickr post.

If you link a photo from Facebook, please mention @InquiringQuilter and my Wednesday Wait Loss.

I’m not sure how to link up

Need help? Click the Wednesday Wait Loss tab above to get step by step instructions on what to do. You can link up a blog post, a photo from Flickr, Instagram, or Facebook, or a photo direct from your cell phone provided it is low resolution.

I appreciate you!

As you know, I use InLinkz to run my weekly Wednesday Wait Loss linky party. To link up, you’ll need to sign in using Facebook or Google+ or create a username/password for InLinkz.

I’d really hate to lose you over this change because we have such a great weekly group! If needed, you can send me your images via email and I’ll add them manually.

Important note

If you would like to link up a photo from your phone or computer, you need to enter an URL or InLinkz will not let you proceed. Use this URL

example.com

Our Next Giveaway!

Our next giveaway is October, and I’d like to celebrate my anniversary by featuring wedding quilts and quilts that celebrate love.

So dig through your quilts and prepare your stories that tell us why your quilt means love to you. I can’t wait to hear your stories!

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Linking to several fun quilty linky parties.

you might also like

Tell me..what have you been Working on this week?

#WIPs

[stillalicebyheart]

Maybe Send Me An Angel?

Prologue || Masterlist || AO3 || Next

A/N: Holy cow this took a while to write!! So this is the prologue (also known as a rewrite of the entire first 20 minutes of the musical bc it’s p much the same) to my new Dear Evan Hansen fic, based on @a-ghostly-state ‘s guardian angel au!! (Check out their art, it’s amazing!!) If you’d like to be tagged in updates of this please let me know and I will! Word Count: 5.2k words Warnings: talk of suicide, anxiety, panic attacks. (If I need to add anything else please let me know!)

Dear Evan Hansen, Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why: |

Evan stared at the blinking cursor on his computer screen, wondering how he should follow the practiced intro. Why would it be a good day? It was the first day of his senior year, so there’s something. But how would it go? Would he end up making a fool of himself just like every other year? He started typing again, non-stop for a few moments before reading it back to himself.

Because today, all you have to do is just be yourself. But also confident, that’s important. And interesting, or approachable. Mostly yourself though, that’s the big one. Be true to yourself. And don’t worry about whether your hands are going to get sweaty for no reason; you can’t make it stop no matter what you do because they’re not going to get sweaty so don’t even think about it because all you have to do is be yourself. There’s no way it’s going to be like that time you had the perfect chance to introduce yourself to Zoe Murphy after the jazz band concert last year, when you waited to talk to her and tell her how good she was and pretend to be super casual but then you didn’t even end up saying anything because you thought your hands were sweaty (they weren’t, until you started thinking about it) so you put them under the hand dryer in the bathroom and they were still sweaty, just very warm now too.

He read back the words in his mind, lip captured between his teeth while he changed things, tried to make it sound better. He had to read this to his therapist later, and there was no way he could tell her about his weirdly sweaty hands!

Just as he was getting ready to start typing again, his mother walked into his room with a twenty in her hand. He instantly shut his laptop – a force of habit – and turned to his mother.

“So you just decided not to eat last night.”

“…I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’re a senior in high school, Evan, you need to be able to order dinner when I’m not here. It’s even all online now, you don’t have to talk to anyone.” 

“See, that’s not true because you have to talk to the delivery guy and stand there silently while he counts out the change and it’s—“

“This is what you’re supposed to be working on, honey! With Dr. Sherman, talking to other people.” Heidi gave him a half smile as she laid his jacket on the bed next to him. 

“I’m trying.”

“No, I know! I know! And that’s why I made you an appointment with her for this afternoon.”

“I already have an appointment for next week.”

“Well, I thought you could benefit from seeing her sooner. I’ll pick you up after school.” She moved around the room, idly tidying as she went. After a beat of silence from her son, she spoke again. “Hey, have you been writing those letters? ‘Dear Evan Hansen, today’s going to be a great day and here’s why,’ you been doing those?”

“Yeah, I started writing one.” He hesitated. “I’ll finish writing it at school.”

“Those letters are gonna help you build your confidence, you know, seize the day!”

Evan made an uncommitted sound of agreement in response.

Heidi moved back towards the door, pausing in the frame. “I don’t want another year of you sitting at your computer on a Friday night telling me you have no friends.”

“Neither do I.” Evan responded, watching her retreating form.

“Oh!” She popped her head back in, grin forming. “Hurry up and come down for breakfast, I made pancakes!”

He looked at her with an exasperated look. “I’ll be there in a minute.” His words sounded tired, like he hadn’t slept much the night before (a true statement, but not one he wanted his mother to fuss over) and eventually pulled open his computer again. He highlighted all the words on the screen and replaced them with a single thought.

Dear whoever might care,

It’s me again. I’d really like a friend. One who doesn’t just use me for car insurance. Maybe… Maybe an angel? But only a nice one, one that’ll help me through this… mess that I’ve become.

Or, you know, a friend works just as well? We don’t even have to be close, just someone that can talk to me like I’m human instead of a loser.

Either way, thanks.

And with that, he shoved his laptop into his bag and bound down the stairs, backpack strap hanging on his arm just before the end of his cast.

Across town, in the higher end neighborhood (or as Connor Murphy liked to call it, the rich white asshole part of town), the Murphys were having another heated debate on Connor’s attendance.

Or well, it would be, if Larry gave a fuck about Connor and Zoe didn’t sabotage everything in his life. It was more his mother talking to a brick wall and getting grunts in response.

“It’s the first day of senior year, Connor, you’re not missing school.”

He looked over his shoulder at her from his bowl of cereal, a smirk on his face. “No one’s saying I won’t go tomorrow – I’m trying to find a compromise here!”

With a sigh, Cynthia looked to her husband. “Are you going to say anything or are you too wrapped up in your emails?”

“You’re not missing school, Connor.” Larry replied, eyes still glued to his phone.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say, he doesn’t listen to me. Besides, look at him, he’s probably high.”

“He’s definitely high.” Zoe quipped, glaring across at the table to the one in question.

Connor rolled his eyes, letting out a loud ‘Fuck you!’ before laying his head on the table, to which Zoe repeated right back.

“Enough! I do not need you picking at your brother right now. Besides, he’s not high.”

With raised eyebrows, Connor slowly looked up, his eyes meeting Zoe’s as a grin split across his face. After another moment, his mother spoke again.

“Are you high?!”

He turned to her to explain, but was shut down before he could. “I do not want you going to school high, Connor! We have talked about this.”

“Perfect!” He responded, hand wrapping around his bag and making for the stairs. “Then I won’t go; thanks, Mom!”

She let him go without a fight, simply turning to her oblivious husband and daughter. After a few moments of silence, Zoe stood, stating: “If Connor’s not ready in five I’m leaving without him.”

Connor was currently laid across his bed, one hand scrolling through his phone while the other rubbed at the wrist holding it. He knew he had to go to school – not all day, but enough to please his mother at the very least. And if he hurried he could ride with Zoe and skip the whole ‘it’s gonna be a great year, Connor, you’ll be in college before you know it!’ lecture that wasn’t really a lecture but might as well have been with how it made him feel. There was no way he was going to college; he was lucky to have made it to senior year – both physically and mentally.

Hell, he’d be lucky to make it to the end of senior year at this point.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself up and out his doorless frame, bag slung over his shoulder as he bound down the stairs. He quickly swiped an apple from the table before pressing a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek and running out the door to catch Zoe before she left.

“Have a good day!” She shouted; not that either of her heard. She could see Connor with his headphones on and head against the window with Zoe in full driving mode. Another heavy breath escaped as she shut the door, ready for another long day alone.

“How’s it feel to be the first person in history to break his arm jerking off?” Evan heard from behind him, turning to see one of the only people he considered as a friend. Jared Kleinman, whose mother worked with Evan’s at the hospital and he’d known pretty much since diapers, and in general was just a huge dick.

“I-I wasn’t doing that— “

“Paint me the picture: you’re in your room, you’ve got Zoe Murphy’s Instagram pulled up on your weird, off-brand cell phone…”

“No, shh, that’s not what happened! Obviously. I was… Well, I was just climbing a tree and… and I fell.”

“You fell? Out of a tree? What are you, an acorn?”

“I was, well I don’t know if you know this but I worked this summer as an apprentice park ranger, um, at Ellis State Park? I’m sort of a tree… Expert now, I mean, not to brag… Anyway, I tried to climb this forty foot tall oak tree and-- “

“Then you fell.”

“Well it’s ac- it’s a funny story because there was a solid ten minutes where I just lay there on the ground and any minute now, I was saying to myself, y’know, any minute now someone’s gonna come and help.”

“And did they?”

“No, no body came and that, um… that’s the funny part.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jared was laughing again, and Evan felt himself flare up.

“What did – How was – “ In an attempt to steer the conversation away from himself, Evan stumbled over his words and took a breath to calm down as his fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He ended up mumbling, “You have a good summer?”

While Jared went on about his amazing summer camp, Evan kept his eyes down almost afraid to look up and see the other students streaming in around them; what did they see when they saw him? Could they tell that he was, in his mind, curled into a ball screaming for help and a quiet room but physically just a wound-up toy held in place? He felt like he could explode at any moment, break down into the mess he knew he was, but at school where they’d rip him to shreds for even shedding one tear, it was impossible to have that break. When Jared turned to walk away, the pen in his pocket grew heavy. ‘Have the other kids at school sign your cast’ Mom had said in the car, but would Jared even want to?

“D-Do you, maybe want to sign my cast?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Well I just thought, because we’re friends— “

“We’re family friends. That’s like a whole different thing and you know it.” Evan had kind of been expecting – well, more than kind of, he’d completely expected nothing less than what he got. “Hey, tell your mom to tell my mom that I was nice to you, or else my parents won’t pay for my car insurance.” He pat Evans shoulder as he moved past the taller boy, halting as he saw Connor Murphy enter the school. Jared, who, very much unlike Evan, wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind, spoke up enough for Evan to turn around again and watch what was about to happen as the halls cleared for first class.

“Hey Connor! Loving the new hair length, very… school shooter chic.” He said with a shit-eating grin, and Evan felt his pulse shoot through the roof for Jared and the look he was receiving from Connor. If looks could kill, Jared would be more than six feet under, and Connor had a bit of a reputation for being hot-headed; Evan wasn’t really feeling having to figure out how to calm Connor and protect Jared while also not getting involved because why should he, this had nothing to do with him!

“Jeez, it’s just a joke.”

“Yeah, no, I’m laughing, can’t you tell?” Connor’s voice was steady and calm (a bad sign, if you asked Evan, but then again if you asked him everything could be a bad sign) as he eyed Kleinman. After a split second, he took a step forward and raised his tone. “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” Jared rolled his eyes, gesturing to the black clad boy. “You’re such a freak.” He commented before turning and walking around the corner, leaving just Connor and Evan standing there. While he didn’t even think about the fact Connor was still standing there, Evan let out a slight, under-his-breath laugh at Jared’s ridiculousness – you don’t make a comment like that and then not expect the person on the receiving end to be mad. Unfortunately for him, Connor took it the wrong way.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?

“What-- “

“Stop fucking laughing at me!”

“I was – I didn’t – “

“You think I’m a freak?”

“No, no I wasn’t— “

“I’m not the freak!”

“I wasn’t laughing a— “

“You’re the fucking freak!”

And with that, Connor Murphy pushed past Evan Hansen and shoved him to the ground. And Evan Hansen sat there, on the floor, for the better part of first hour, waiting for someone to notice he wasn’t in class.

No one noticed.

“Yes, Mom. I get it you have to work.” Evan sighed as he walked into the computer lab. “Maybe… Yes, I finished it, I’m printing it right now… I was… Yeah, it was a good day. Bye.”

He hardly noticed the other people in the room, pulling out his laptop to finish the letter – as much as he didn’t want to, if he showed up to his appointment without it his therapist would get mad and then he wouldn’t be allowed back and he really, really wanted to get better so he had to get this done. Even if it was the most bullshit thing he ever wrote. His fingers hesitated over the keys before he started typing; maybe if he focused on the sound he wouldn’t end up crying.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all, um… This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year because… why would it be? I know, I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me. But maybe, maybe, I could just talk to her then maybe… maybe nothing would be different at all.

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

Sincerely, Your best and most dearest friend, Me.

Instead of reading it back, Evan just hit the print button. It wasn’t like what he wrote would matter anyways, Dr. Sherman would see it a ‘progress’ either way right? His words didn’t mean anything, the action is what counts. Really, he should have been by the printer already (who prints something and then leaves it sitting instead of picking it up they’ll think maybe I’m an idiot which isn’t too far off but still) but unfortunately, he found himself lost in thought only to be interrupted by Connor Murphy.

Oblivious as Evan was, you would think he’d notice the only other person in the lab was the same person who pushed him in the hall earlier in the day, but when you’re on the phone and on a mission, it was hard to take in surroundings. To Connor, though, it was just another moment in life; he was always unseen, and if seen just referred to as ‘the freak’ or ‘crazy’ or ‘hothead’. And honestly, being unseen was better than the other options. He was only there to kill time anyways. (Or at least, that’s what he told himself; really, he was looking for statistic rates of successful suicides with different methods.) He’d only picked up Evan’s letter because he was printing a page of his own. So when he looked at the paper and saw ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ at the top, he had no choice but to talk to the kid.

And honestly, he should have probably at least heard Evan out. He did try to explain before Connor blew up and shoved him, but Connor’s temper was always as short of a fuse as any with a lit flame just millimeters away from the end. It wasn’t his fault Hansen laughed at him but he wasn’t going to take it. He’d heard the kid was nice enough so… Maybe Connor could make an effort to become friends with someone. Maybe someone would miss him after he was gone.

A hopeless and useless thought, honestly, but worth a shot in his eyes.

He turned and walked over to Evan with a slight hesitation, trying not to scare the kid. “So,” He started, and of course he still managed to spook him. “what happened… to your arm?” This was foreign for Connor, trying to be nice, so his words were unsure and slow-paced, as if considering each one carefully.

“O-oh, um… I, uh, fell out of a tree actually?” It wasn’t a question, but Evan phrased it like one – it was hard to think right when the guy who caused your latest panic attack was trying to play nice.

“You fell out of a tree.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Liar. Your life is the saddest thing.

Evan tried to laugh with Connor, but it ended up coming out scared and half-hearted. “I-I know.”

Okay, this was going somewhat well right? He couldn’t let it die out so fast. “Uh… Nobody’s, um… signed your cast.” And he was back to the calculated words.

“Oh. No, I know.”

“Well, I’ll sign it.” Connor had no hesitation. This was how you made friends, right? Being nice? Signing a cast?

“Oh, y-you don’t have to.” There’s no way Connor Murphy wants to sign my cast.

“Do you, ah… have a sharpie?” Connor took another hesitant step forward; if Evan didn’t want him to sign it, he’d have to say it. He wasn’t backing down now, he was at least going to make an acquaintance.

Evan started digging in his pocket, walking forward. Okay, so maybe Connor Murphy wasn’t the most ideal, but at least his mom would be happy with one small signature, right? He handed the marker to Connor, who in turn grabbed Evan’s wrist just a little too roughly. “Ow.”

“Oh.” He checked Evan’s face for any sign of major discomfort, blinking once before turning back to the cast, writing his name out in large letters. 

“Oh. Great. Thanks.” Evan stated, eyes glued to the much larger than anticipated writing. 

“Yeah, well… Now we can both pretend we have friends.” Connor stated, handing his marker back. His eyes wandered off, away from the situation and how he hadn’t completely fucked it up yet. 

“Yeah, good point…” He vaguely registered Evan’s voice as he started to walk towards the printer, and his real reason for coming over came back to focus.

“Oh, hey is… Is this yours? Um, I found it on the printer it’s, uh…” He glanced at the paper even though he knew what was written there. “’Dear Evan Hansen’, that’s your name, right?”

“Oh, no no no no no, that’s, um…” Evan watched as Connor tried to hand it back, his eyes still on the paper, probably reading it. “That’s just, um, just a paper I have to write, it’s for an assignment— “ 

Evan had reached for the paper, but suddenly the arm holding the paper recoiled to Connor as he started reading aloud. “’Because there’s Zoe’?” He hesitated, not wanting to meet Evan’s eyes. “Uh, is… this about my sister?”

“No, no, not at all.” Evan reached out again to try and take the paper back because no no no this wasn’t happening his words didn’t matter Connor Murphy was not supposed to read this and now he’s going to kill me for having a crush on his sister but Connor moved it out of reach as he took a step back with his eyes glued to the floor. When he spoke again, it seemed as if he was trying to work the whole situation out loud. 

“You wrote this… Because you knew that I would find it.” 

“…What?”

“Yeah, uh… yeah, you saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab so you wrote this and you printed this out so that I would find it.” He’d started walking forward again, the lit match landing on the thread to the dynamite. 

“Um, wh-why would I— “

“So I could read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right?! And then you could tell everybody that I’m crazy. Right?”

“No, I-- “

“Fuck you!”

Instead of giving Evan the slightest chance to explain, Connor stormed off and out of the computer room, slamming the door in his face. 

“No, no, no, no, no come back I really need that back please give it back I need that back so can you please, can you please just give it back!” 

He’d tried to follow, but in his state with shaking hands and tear-filled eyes, it was useless. He stood silently looking through the window in the doorway, attempting to calm himself and work up the courage to follow. It wasn’t until an hour later, though, that he actually did move, and it was only to head home.

Maybe he could explain to Connor tomorrow and he could give it back? And maybe hell would freeze over in the next twenty-four hours.

“A letter to yourself? What the fuck does that even mean? Is it some kind of sex thing…?”

“No! No, it’s not a sex thing, it’s an assignment.”

“Why are you talking to me about this?”

“I didn’t know who else to talk to!” Evan looked away from the computer screen, where he could see half of Jared’s face – he didn’t want to tell Jared but who else could he go to about Connor Murphy, the scariest guy in school, stealing his letter? “You’re my only f-f—family friend.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t know what to do, he stole the letter from me three days ago and then he just, he hasn’t been at school since.”

“That does not bode well for you.” Jared stated, leaning back in his chair as he finally looked at Evan for the first time in the twenty-minute skype conversation. 

He was quiet, face flushed again. “What’s he gonna do with it?”

“Who knows? Connor Murphy is batshit out of his mind.” Jared rolled his eyes again, turning away long enough to grab his phone. “Remember he through a printer at Mrs. G in second grade because he didn’t get to be the line leader that day?”

“Do you think he’s gonna show the letter to— ” Zoe? “ –other people?”

A snort of laughter came from the other. “He’s gonna ruin your life with it, for sure. I mean, I would.”

Yet another example of Jared being an asshole, as if Evan didn’t see that every time they spoke. Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have any other friends, family related or not, so there wasn’t much he could do about it other than sigh. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know! Figure out a way to make Connor not be a freak and give you your weird sex letter back?” He continued scrolling through his phone, and distantly Evan could hear Mrs. Kleinman calling for him. “I gotta go. Listen, if you think of a way to not make Murphy a freak, let me know.”

And just like that, he was alone again. Might as well get started on another letter.

The next day was nothing like Evan thought it would be. One would say it was the day his life drastically changed.

It started with being called into the principal’s office – something that was unheard of for him – and was greeted with two people he’d never seen in his life. “Oh, hello, good morning. Is, uh, is Mr. Howard… Sorry.” He was barging in on something obviously. “I’m sorry, just, um, they said on the loudspeaker for me to go to the principal’s office?”

The male, who looked like a business man, stood up and approached him. “Mr. Howard stepped out.”

“Oh…” Evan took a step back, preparing to go back outside and wait to meet with him.

“We wanted to speak with you privately.” He motioned to the empty chair in front of them. “If you’d like to take a seat?”

Hesitantly, Evan slid into the seat while avoiding the other’s gaze. The air made him worry something was wrong – he’d never seen these people before, had no idea who they were, but they wanted to talk to him in the principal’s office without the principal?

“We’re, uh… We’re Connor’s parents.”

Shit. He started to panic mentally. He showed them the letter and now he’s being kicked out of school because he had a creepy fascination with their daughter and they were filing for a restraining order and—

“Oh.”

--they were going to take him to court over this stupid, stupid letter and he’d never get into college because his record will show he has a restraining order against him. Not like he was getting into any big colleges anyways, but even the smallest bit of hope shriveled up and died sitting in that chair.

The silence was eating away at him as his focus was on a single book spine on the shelf as his mind raced. 

“Who don’t you go ahead and…”

The woman—Connor’s mom – spoke for the first time, and Evan slowly turned his head. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

“That’s not what I said, is it?”

The silence filled the room again as she unfolded a paper.

“This is, uh… Connor… wanted you to have this?”

Looking at the first line, Evan knew it was his letter. The text was like reading an embarrassing story online, and he wanted to melt right out of his chair. He tried to speak, but no words came.

“We never heard your name before.” The father spoke instead, sitting next to his wife. He finally took a moment to take in both of their faces – weary and tired, the mom with tear tracks on her face and the dad with a stern look. “Connor never mentioned you. And then we saw… Dear Evan Hansen--”

“He, uh.” Evan cleared his throat. “He gave this to you?”

“We didn’t know you two were friends.”

Wait. Friends?

“F-friends?”

“We didn’t think Connor had any friends. And then we see this… This letter. And it seems to suggest pretty clearly that you and Connor were, or at least for Connor, that he thought of you as…” 

They thought Connor wrote this? To him? And that they were friends? Why would Connor Murphy want to be friends with him? And what was with all the past tense words and where the hell was Connor in all of this?

“I mean, it’s right there, Dear Evan Hansen, it’s addressed to you, he wrote it to you.” His voice was harsher and angrier the longer Evan sat there with nothing to say. 

“You think this, um, you think that Connor… wrote this to me.”

“These were the words he wanted to share with you.” Mrs. Murphy spoke again, quiet and almost as if she would cry again any second. 

“His last words.”

“This is what he wanted you to have.”

“I-I… I’m sorry,” Evan’s mind was reeling at a rate no less than ninety miles an hour. “What do you mean, ‘last words’?”

The pair shared a pained look before Mr. Murphy turned back to Evan while Mrs. Murphy tried to not cry.

“Connor, uh…” There was no easy way to say it apparently, as he took a moment to find his words. “Connor took his own life.”

“He what?!”

“And this was all he had with him, it was folded up in his pocket. And you could see that he was… He was trying to explain it, why he was…”

Evan started shaking, trying to figure out why, how, what, why, when, how, why, why, why? Connor didn’t write this so that means he didn’t write a suicide note and maybe his isn’t actually gone, maybe he just ran off or something. Yeah, they didn’t know if he was actually gone… Except they found his letter in his pocket meaning they had his body…

“’I wish everything was different, I wish… I were a part of something, I wish what I said mattered--’ ”

“Larry, please.” Mrs. Murphy let out a sob, turning to her husband. “Stop it.”

“Okay.” Was the simple response she received, and Evan couldn’t bring himself to look at them both.

“But, this is, this is not, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry but Connor, uh, no, Connor didn’t write this.”

“What does that mean?”

“Uh, Connor didn’t – he didn’t – write this.”

“Larry, what does he mean?”

“He’s obviously in shock.”

Evan’s hands were still shaking, his entire body feeling like it was shutting down.  “No, no, no, I mean, he -- he didn’t, he didn— “

Mrs. Murphy stood up, looking at him desperately. “It’s right here!”

“-- I’m sorry I should, I should just, I need to go can I please go now?”

He was trying hard to not have a panic attack right there in the room with them, standing and throwing his bag over his shoulder as he and Mrs. Murphy both tried to talk over the other. The letter was gripped tightly in his casted hand as he tried to make his way to the door with unsteady legs, and luckily Mr. Murphy interviened. 

“Honey, this is not the time.”

“This is all we have!” She sobbed, her words continuing as she tried to push him away.

“Listen to me! Please, Cynthia!”

“Here, you should uh,” Evan leaned forward, past Larry, to hand the paper back to Mrs. Murphy. “you should take this, please, just take it, please.”

It was quiet again, save for her sniffling and crying, until she froze with eyes glued on Evan’s cast.

“Larry… Look, his cast…”

Mr. Murphy turned and looked at his cast at the same time Evan looked down at it and the big signature Connor had written there just days before. 

“His ‘best and most dearest friend.’”

After that fiasco and locking himself in a stall in the bathroom for two hours texting with Jared (which resulted in, surprise, no help what so ever) and scrolling through Facebook to try and calm down only to be met with memorial posts in Connor’s honor, he finally said screw it and sent a text to his mom telling him he couldn’t do school today and made his way home. That’s where things got even crazier.

Because sitting on his couch, was Connor Murphy.

#deh fic #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #deh #msmaa** #anxiety / #panic attack / #suicide ment / #my works

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/nene-leakes-lands-rich-bravo-deal-rhoa-plus-bella-thorne-scott-disick/

NeNe Leakes lands rich Bravo deal for RHOA plus Bella Thorne on Scott Disick

NeNe Leakes didn't mind having to wait a few seasons before returning to Bravo's Real Housewives of Atlanta as that only made her price tag rise more as Phaedra Parks fell apart on the show. After some very intense negotiations, Leakes will be earning more than $2 million for this upcoming season. This will include some sweet perks that will have her returning to her famous mantra "I'm rich, bitch!" These perks include her getting the personal treatment she loved in the past so she can juggle personal engagement and any new shows she might be on. Ryan Murphy won't be including her in anything after using her for Glee and The New Normal, so she'll be looking for another producer who loves a 'hot mess' as Murphy as always said. Bravo will let her promote her HSN Clothing, SWAGG Boutique along with hosting Fashion Police on E! Big news for fans of Bravo’s reality series Real Housewives of Atlanta. On Wednesday, it was announced that Housewives alum NeNe Leakes would be officially returning to the show. Back in 2015, NeNe exited the weekly drama-filled show and proceeded to pursue other opportunities in the entertainment industry. In fact, the humorous star has since been a facet on E!’s show Fashion Police. On Wednesday, Nene took to her Twitter to share the big news with her fans and followers. Alongside a photo of her holding up a drink and wearing a crown, NeNe captioned, “It’s been a long process, but we’ve finally reached an agreement! All hail the Queen for season 10 of [Real Housewives of Atlanta].” NeNe Leakes, Twitter post: https://twitter.com/NeNeLeakes/status/875089492339810304 While NeNe is returning to RHOA, it has been reported that fellow cast member Phaedra Parks will not be on the 10th installment of the reality series. After she was caught spreading malicious sexual assault rumors about her costar Kandi Burruss and her husband Todd Tucker, Phaedra’s career as a professional Housewife has supposedly come to an end. Filming has begun, and you can be sure that NeNe has negotiated to be a central storyline with her return. Kandi Burruss, Porsha Williams, Cynthia Bailey, Kenya Moore and Sheree Whitfield are all expected to return full-time. Williams’ friend Shamea Morton will make appearances alongside Kim Zolciak. Stay tuned for more details about the upcoming season of Real Housewives of Atlanta. Remember a few weeks back when 19-year-old former Disney actress Bella Thorne was spotted getting super close to troubled reality star Scott Disick? While their extremely short-lived fling may have lasted only a few days, people are still talking about the unexpected pairing. Inevitably, Bella decided to candidly address her run-in with Scott in Cannes in a brand-new interview with Complex magazine. When asked how she met Scott, the Famous in Love star told the magazine, “I throw a lot of house parties and that’s how I meet these people. They come to my house party and they’re like ‘Yo, I heard you’re having a party.’ I’m just like ‘Okay, French Montana. Hi, French.’ That’s how I met Scott - he came to a house party of mine [with French] and I was like ‘hi.’” Later in her interview, Bella went on to explain exactly what was going on at the time Scott was photographed blatantly touching her chest. The star gushed, “Honestly, my nipple came out of my bikini, and he tried to fix it for me, and it looks like he’s grabbing my boob. That’s very nice of you to actually not sit there and stare at my nipple because my boobs are big - they come out of my shirt all the time! You can’t keep those suckers down.” While the two seemed to have been enjoying each other’s company at the time, Bella claims that she just didn’t fit in with Scott’s hardcore partying lifestyle. Bella told Complex, “Scott is really nice, sweet and charming. I don’t drink, and he really drinks a lot. And it just ended up…I just wasn’t down, I was like, ‘I got to leave.’” The star went on to elaborate, “We were [at Cannes] a day and a half before I was like I’m booking my flight and leaving. I love to go out and have fun, I love to f***ing dance, but I just don’t party hardcore like that, and it was way too much for me. I was like, ‘Woah, this is not the way I live my life, bruh.’” Ever since she and Scott abruptly ended their flirtation, Bella has been getting close to her ex-boyfriend, actor Greg Sulkin. Conspiracy theorist Alex Jones says he'll release an unedited version of his controversial interview with Megyn Kelly set to air Sunday on NBC. Jones said on his Infowars website that the full interview he recorded will counter Kelly's upcoming report, which he labeled a "fraud." The site touted the interview's availability Thursday night, but it was not online after midnight EST. The Infowars host posted a video online, along with a teaser clip, around 8:45 p.m. and claimed he would be posting the full tape on the conspiracy website later in the evening. “I’ve never done this in 22 years, I’ve never recorded another journalist, but I knew it was a fraud, that it was a lie,” Jones said in the video, recalling how Kelly approached him about the interview. “God, she was like, ‘I want to get steaks with you, I’m obsessed with you, oh my God,’ wiggling around in her seat. It was all crap,” he explained. “I knew it was all a lie. I said Sandy Hook happened, and she wouldn’t even put it in the promo pieces. So we’re going to release, oh yea, we’re going to release the pre-interview. And then when they put their fraud out on Sunday — which I’ve asked them not to air because they’re misrepresenting who I am and saying I’m as bad as Saddam Hussein, or Jeffrey Dahmer, or Charles Manson — we’ve got the whole interviews here…We’ve got it all…It’s all going to come out.” The clip that accompanied Jones’ tweet featured a short audio recording of Kelly, seemingly assuring the 43-year-old that her questions wouldn’t be tough. “All I can do is give you my word and I don’t double-cross,” she can be heard saying at one point. “My goal is for your listeners and the left — you know, who will be watching some on NBC — to say, ‘Wow, that’s really interesting,” she adds. “It’s not going to be some gotcha hit piece, I promise you that.” Kelly and NBC have been getting blasted by families affected by the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre, with several victims’ parents writing letters to the network — urging them to scrap the interview — due to Jones’ prior beliefs that the shooting was staged. “What I think we’re doing is journalism,” Kelly has previously said about the exchange, which is currently set to air on her new NBC show, “Sunday Night.” “The bottom line is that while it’s not always popular, it’s important.” Jones, who has since admitted that the Sandy Hook shooting was real, said in his preview video on Thursday that Kelly and NBC took his words out of context and edited his interview to make it seem like he still was on the fence about the subject. “You’re gonna hear what I actually said,” Jones claimed. “Like when it cuts, and I’m sitting there and they go, ‘Oh, you don’t think Sandy Hook happened.’ And I go, ‘Yea! Well, you don’t care about dead Iraqi kids!’ I’m [really] like, ‘Hey, they did fake babies in incubators, they did fake dead kids, that’s why we have to question this. I don’t hate the families. We question everything.'” NBC did not immediately respond to a request for comment. A backlash greeted NBC's decision to book Jones, who has questioned whether the killing of 26 people in 2012 at an elementary school in Newton, Connecticut, was a hoax. Sources close to Jones have commented that he has been using the NBC to his advantage and threatening to leak the full interview and then not doing it is nothing new for the conspiracy theorist. "With Alex, it's not about getting the truth out. It's all about exploiting every opportunity to line his pockets any way he can," the source, commented. "Fifteen years ago, he was more about the truth, but once he realized how to make easy money, he suddenly didn't care about selling out." A new round of deliberations is raising the prospects that Bill Cosby's sexual assault trial will end with a verdict instead of a hung jury. Jurors who have appeared stressed and even angry seemed more upbeat as they left court outside Philadelphia Thursday night than on previous nights, despite enduring another marathon session. The sequestered jurors had deliberated about 30 hours before telling Judge Steven O'Neill earlier Thursday that they couldn't reach a unanimous decision on any of the counts against the 79-year-old comedian. The judge told them to try again for a verdict. As the jurors left for the day, O'Neill heaped praise on them, thanking them for their dedication and the sacrifice they've made being 300 miles (482 kilometers) from home in the Pittsburgh area. "I want to reiterate how proud I am of each and every one of you," O'Neill said as he sent the jury back to the hotel. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything that you've done." They will get back to it Friday morning. Cosby is charged with three felony counts of aggravated indecent assault stemming from Andrea Constand's allegations that he drugged and violated her at his suburban Philadelphia home in 2004. Each count carries a maximum 10-year prison term, though the counts could be merged at sentencing if Cosby is convicted. Cosby's lawyer said he and Constand were lovers sharing a consensual moment of intimacy. The jury of seven men and five women have deliberated for nearly 40 hours since getting the case Monday. Cosby's spokesman said the impasse showed that jurors doubted Constand's story. "They're conflicted about the inconsistencies in Ms. Constand's testimony," spokesman Andrew Wyatt said. "And they're hearing Mr. C.'s testimony, and he's extremely truthful. And that's created this doubt." Constand's lawyer, Dolores Troiani, said only that the "jury is apparently working very hard." The district attorney's office declined to comment. Dozens of women have come forward to say Cosby had drugged and assaulted them, but this was the only case to result in criminal charges. The jury must come to a unanimous decision to convict or acquit. If the panel can't break the deadlock, the judge could declare a hung jury and a mistrial. In that case, prosecutors would get four months to decide whether they want to retry the TV star or drop the charges. The case has already helped demolish his image as America's Dad, cultivated during his eight-year run as kindly Dr. Cliff Huxtable on the top-rated "The Cosby Show" in the 1980s and '90s. The families of the victims of the Sandy Hook massacre have sent a legal letter to NBC News chairman Andy Lack urging him not to broadcast Megyn Kelly‘s interview with controversial InfoWars host Alex Jones. The letter, from the law firm Koskoff, Koskoff and Bieder who represent several of the families who lost loved ones in the 2012 tragedy, reads, “Airing Ms. Kelly’s interview implicitly endorses the notion that Mr. Jones’ lies are actually “claims” that are worthy of serious debate; and in doing so it exponentially enhances the suffering and distress of our clients. For that NBC is responsible. “We urge you to consider the ethical and legal ramifications of broadcasting this interview to millions of Americans. By now, it should be clear to NBC that airing the interview will cause serious emotional distress to dozens of Sandy Hook families. ” Describing the pain the families still suffer, the letter states, “Parents have marked their children’s seventh, eighth, and ninth birthdays not with wonder and joyful chaos, but with the most profound loneliness this world knows. Erica Lafferty walked through a graveyard in her wedding dress and veil so that she could feel close to her mother, Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung – a woman who died trying to protect other parents’ children. “Then there are all the other days; regular Thursdays like this one where a sound or a smell can transform the unrelenting ache of grief into intense, physical pain. Surely, we can agree that these families have suffered enough already and that they will continue to suffer enough to last several lifetimes. “Which is why we cannot fathom – from a moral, ethical or legal standpoint – NBC’s decision to amplify the voice of a man who has made a living debasing that suffering and smearing our clients’ names. “Over the last few years, Alex Jones has weaponized his radio show to publish false and defamatory statements about our clients: chief among them that they are actors perpetrating a massive fraud on the American public by faking the deaths of their loved ones. “NBC is not responsible for the harassment and abuse Alex Jones has cruelly visited on our clients. But, by choosing to air his interview with Ms. Kelly – at all, let alone at prime time on Father’s Day – NBC has tendered its good name and considerable influence to provide Mr. Jones with something he has never enjoyed: legitimacy. “This decision may be driven by the simple urge to gain an edge in a well-publicized ratings war, but it has devastating human consequences as well.” The letter was sent on behalf of Mark and Jacqueline Barden, who lost their 7-year-old son Daniel, Hannah D’Avino, the sister of Sandy Hook teacher Rachel D’Avino, Nicole and Ian Hockley whose son Dylan, 6, was killed. They also speak for Erica Lafferty who lost her mother Dawn, the principal of Sandy Hook Elementary, Veronique Pozner, the mother of Noah, 6, who was killed, the family of Victoria Soto, a first-grade teacher who died trying to shield her first-graders, and Francine and David Wheeler who lost their son Benjamin, 6.

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

#Alex Jones #Bella Thorne #Bill Cosby #Bravo #Featured #Megyn Kelly #NeNe Leakes #Real Housewives Of Atlanta #Scott Disick