hartbigfic replied to your post “hartbigfic replied to your post “I sincerely miss yup-ithappens and...”
If you know what the title of it is I can check. I think I mostly have the older ones though.
It was something like "Secret Life of A Spy" or something like that. I'm pretty sure it had the word "spy" in it. It was a multi-chapter. It wasn't like as old as Swace but it was like from the end of last year?
Does anyone else remember this fic from yup-ithappens and the exact title of it?
I sincerely miss yup-ithappens and reading her work, like Casual and the one where Grace was a spy and Hannah pretended to be helping her but ended up falling in love with her.
I totally understand that at some point, everyone bows out of their fandom and online life, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. She doesn't post on her other blog and she doesn't do the youtubes anymore.
Hey guys, yup-ithappens sent me this fic to post for you all so you can still read it if you'd like.
Genre: Romance, NSFF
Word Count: 2,734
Author's Note: So you all still have it if you want. It’s been really cool <3
---
Hannah stumbled out of bed, dragging her feet wearily across the hardwood floor of their bedroom, over the colorful striped rug and to her desk. She was dressed in one of Grace’s old “You’ve been Hazed!” T-shirts and red shorts and her hair had arranged itself into a messy abstract sculpture. She opened a drawer and lifted a notebook out of it, flipping directly to the last page and placing another tick mark next to countless others. Except they weren’t countless. Hannah knew exactly how many there were. Hannah knew.
They had talked about it, of course. Well, perhaps “talked” isn’t the right word. She had listened to Grace talk. Grace didn’t talk about it with her, shetold her. And if Hannah hadn’t walked in at the right moment, she isn’t sure whether or not Grace would ever have told her.
It happened six months, two weeks and three days before. One hundred eighty-eight days. Hannah had come home early, greeted by two large black suitcases standing by the front door. She set the flowers she was holding in a vase on the table, when Grace walked out of the hallway wearing a backpack and holding a duffle bag in her hand. When she saw Hannah she stopped dead. Hannah’s eyebrows moved the smallest bit closer.
“Grace?” she asked calmly. Hannah wasn’t worried. Why would she be? She knew Grace wasn’t leaving forever. She knew their love was better than this. She knew it.
The blonde wordlessly set the duffle bag and backpack by the suitcases in the entryway, the took Hannah’s hand in her own and walked to the table. They both sat, and Grace began talking. She held Hannah’s hand the entire time, occasionally tearing up and constantly leaning over the table and trying to keep her lover’s eye contact. But Hannah couldn’t look at her and focus on the words she was hearing at the same time. She kept her gaze on the tile, noting every spec of dust and a dropped Cheerio that had been lost long ago under the cabinets. She wondered if that was from when she had made breakfast for Grace at midnight after they made love for the first time. Maybe it was a result of the Great Cereal War of December, 2012. She would never know.
She only remembered the ideas behind Grace’s sentences, not the actual words themselves. Something about finding herself. Something about distance. Something. Something, something.
All those somethings added up to one more night of just lying in bed and holding each other, silently expressing all the love in the world for each other until they drifted into sleep.
The last thing Grace said was “Don’t give up on me.” She must have gotten up early. Or maybe she never fell asleep at all, and left as soon as she was sure Hannah had. Whatever the case, when Hannah woke up that morning, she was gone.
Hannah wasn’t mad. She wasn’t hurt, or sad, or anything negative. She was happy for Grace, actually. She wanted nothing more than for her to find herself and be sure of herself. Isn’t that what you want for the person you love more than you could possibly express? She wasn’t worried. Why would she be? She knew Grace wasn’t leaving forever. She knew their love was better than that. She knew it.
The first few days, and even weeks, everyone thought she would come back. Hannah would meet their mutual friends and they’d ask about her, and she would just say that she’s still gone, and they would nod and say it was only a matter of time till she came back. Hannah knew.
After a month though, people stopped believing. They tried to talk to Hannah, to get her to open up about her pain and help her move on. Everyone thought she was crazy, suicidal, obsessive. But there wasn’t any pain. Grace was going to come back, so why worry? She ignored them. One of her friends even tried setting her up on a blind date, which infuriated her because she would never cheat on Grace. She couldn’t take advantage of her trust and betray her like that.
It wasn’t until Mamrie knocked on her door one evening that the doubt began to bother her. It wasn’t that she herself doubted, it was that everyone else did and it hurt her to see that they thought so low of Grace.
She opened the door at about six-thirty on day seventy-four, revealing a redhead holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and a box of tissues in the other. Mamrie’s expression was filled with compassionate sorrow.
“Hannah…” she said, her voice filled with meaning. Hannah simply held the door open for her and welcomed her inside. Mamrie walked into the dining room and set the vodka and tissues down, retreating to the kitchen to grab shot glasses. Hannah sat at the table in the same seat Grace had seventy-five days before and watched her friend pour them each a shot. She always sat there now. Mamrie’s voice was solemn and gentle when she spoke. “She’s not coming back. And look how thin you are. Hannah, I’m worried about you. You don’t talk to anyone, you don’t go out except to buy Grace flowers that she’ll never see, and you look sick. You look broken, Han.”
“Oh, God, Mamrie, don’t be so dramatic,” Hannah said cheerily. She raised her glass to toast Mamrie, but the red-head just looked at her with sad eyes. Hannah shrugged and downed her glass anyways. “You should be more excited! What are we celebrating?” Hannah looked at her with bright eyes and an innocent smile, waiting for an announcement that would never come.
“Hannah, Grace is gone-”
“Don’t tell me what Grace is!” Hannah shouted, cutting her off. Her eyes were cold and something had left them. Maybe it was happiness. It could’ve been hope. Her head dropped and she shook it in disgust, scoffing at the table. “You too, Mames…really?” Mamrie reached a hand out to place on Hannah’s forearm, but Hannah stood as her fingers grazed her skin. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was quiet and dangerously calm.
“Just know that I’m here for you,” Mamrie said, standing and walking out. She paused just before opening the door. “Please don’t hurt yourself.” The next day she found the vodka and tissues on her doorstep.
“Well, Gracie, now it’s just you and me, together,” Hannah said into the darkness. She lay in their king sized bed, wearing Grace’s “You’ve Been Hazed!” T-shirt and sleeping on her side of the bed. She swallowed a sleeping pill she used to fall asleep when missing Grace was too prominent in her mind to allow her any rest. “I believe in you,” she whispered. “I won’t give up on you.”
—
So now it was day one hundred eighty-seven. The afternoon, now. Hannah spent most of the day cleaning the house in case Grace came home. She bought a dozen red roses and put them on the counter with a note that read “For Gracie, my love. xx”, just as she did everyday. Hannah erased the oldest episode of Real Housewives of Orange County on her television and set the newest one to pre-record, not knowing whether Grace was able to see them all wherever she was. She went online and watched the last episode of dailygrace, the one where Grace had told everyone she was leaving. She told them before she told Hannah. But at the end of the last clip, she looked directly into the lens, mouthed, “I love you,” and then the screen went to black. All the comments were either that they were going to miss Grace or that the ending was meant for Hannah, or Chester, or Chris, or Mamrie or any of the seemingly infinite ships. The top comment was that she hadn’t said “I love you” at all, but just mouthed, “Olive juice,” like the massive internet troll she is. But Hannah knew it was for her. Why wouldn’t it be? She knew Grace wasn’t leaving forever. She knew their love was better than that. She knew it.
One day it happened. On day one hundred eighty-eight. On that day, just as the light peeked through the curtains of Hannah and Grace’s bedroom, she heard a noise in the kitchen. Footsteps and the rustling of fabric stirred her from her sleep, and she lifted her head up from her pillow. As the door opened, she thought she was still dreaming.
Grace Helbig walked into their bedroom, took her shoes off slowly and removed her jacket, setting it on the chair at the desk. Her hair was shorter, an A-line that she had let fade back to her natural brown. She was more tan and her clothes were simpler than before. But it was unmistakably Grace. Her Grace. She lifted the covers and slid in next to Hannah, who lifted her arm to allow the taller girl to snuggle into her shoulder and lay her head on her chest. They just lay there silently, not saying a word because none were needed. They spent all day holding each other and breathing and just being together. Why wouldn’t they? Hannah knew Grace hadn’t left forever. She knew their love was better than that. She knew it.
Grace really came home on day one hundred eighty-nine to find an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the bedroom floor. But now Hannah can dream about Grace forever.
Part 2
Grace didn’t cry. Not a single tear. Not when she called the police, not when she read the hundreds of notes in the apartment that all said “For Gracie, my love. xx”. She didn’t even cry when she saw one hundred eighty eight tick marks in the back of the notebook in their desk drawer, with a single sentence scrawled underneath them: I will never give up on you.
It’s been twenty thousand one hundred seventeen days—fifty-five years—and she hasn’t cried. She watched all the episodes of Real Housewives of Orange County that Hannah recorded for her. Not a day went by that she hasn’t watched the last video Hannah posted online. It was her saying goodbye to her Hartosexuals, saying she had some sort of surgery and the survival rate was extremely low, but that she loved them. It was the only time she ever lied to them. Then at the end of the video, she mouthed I won’t give up on you. Grace knew it was for her. Everyone else agreed.
And she never cried watching it.
But Mamrie cried. Mamrie cried on day one, and for many days after that. Mamrie didn’t believe it until she sped over to the apartment and it was swarmed with police officers and an ambulance sat out front, just as Grace had said during their phone call the day she came home. Then Mamrie cried. Then Mamrie threw her car into park and ran up to Grace and wrapped her arms around her, sobbing violently into her long blonde hair. Grace shushed her and rubbed her back, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, that everything was okay.
Teresa came out and stayed with Grace for the next few days, helping her arrange everything for the service. She tried to get Grace to talk about it, to get her to open up about her pain and help her start to move on. But there wasn’t any pain. Grace knew Hannah wasn’t gone forever. She knew their love was better than that. She knew it.
As the priest finished blessing Hannah’s casket and Sarah and Mamrie got up and said a few words, Grace held Maggie’s hand in hers and thought about what she would say when it was her turn. It didn’t feel right, somehow, crying and listening to the hollow sound echo around the big cathedral. The words and strangled noises dragged themselves into the air slowly, then reverberated off the elaborately painted ceiling and back down like a deflated hot air balloon. That’s how everyone looked: deflated. Eventually, the time came, and Grace handed a sobbing Maggie off to Mamrie, who took her seat again.
Grace stood, straightening her black dress and climbing the steps to the front of the church. She gazed out at dozens of pairs of red eyes and a few red recording lights(she had requested that the ceremony be filmed. Their community deserved closure too, and that’s how Hannah would have wanted it.) Her eyes scanned the room’s occupants through her black beaded veil, and she suddenly lifted the fabric and removed it, only slightly disturbing her curls. She tossed it on the old wooden floor carelessly.
“I didn’t know what I was going to say.” The crowd looked at her, blankly sorrowful, and she continued. “Everyone is so sad, but…” she paused, confusion forming on her brow. Then she
“I’m not sad, because I know Hannah isn’t sad.” She took a step forward, moving around the podium and gesturing with her arms. “She’s with me…somehow,” she said, smiling slightly. “Actually, I think it’s the opposite of sad. I think this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Hannah knew, she knew that I would always love her, and I will.” Some of the audience members tighten their jaws or scoff as if to say Yeah, right. Grace goes on. “I do,” she insists. The two words feel the same as if she were wearing white and standing in a church with Hannah. They have the same implications. “She could have spent the rest of her life—forty, fifty years—waiting. Just sitting around and waiting for me to come home, but she didn’t. And if all I have to do to spend eternity with her is wait about forty or fifty years, it…it just doesn’t compare. The time that we spend apart is completely insignificant. It’s nonexistent, really.” She walked over to the casket, placed a single kiss on the smooth ebony wood and set a red rose on top, then walked calmly out the door.
—
Now she sits at their desk, on day twenty thousand one hundred seventeen—fifty-five years later—and pulls that little notebook out of the drawer. She flips to the last page, and underneath the tick marks and seven words she writes.
—
Whether there’s a God or not, because I don’t know if I think there is, I know we will be together. If there’s an afterlife, we will go into it together. I know you’re waiting for me outside those pearly gates. And if there isn’t, then we’ll find each other. Death is just a beautiful dream that most people think is a nightmare. But you…you knew. And you taught me that. Even if I was wrong to leave, you stood up for me. You’re my best friend.
Someday, our hearts will find each other in the blackness of space and we will stay on the moon, we’ll sail across the sun; really, Heaven is overrated. And while I’m here, you’re the wind that sweeps me off my feet. I can trace your outline in the constellations as I stand on our porch each night, I can dance with you in the light of day as it warms my now wrinkled skin, you surrounds me when I’m alone. Even now, I know you aren’t gone. I’m drowning in you.
And a lot of people used to ask me if I missed you while I was looking for myself. I think that’s silly.
Because I knew I wasn’t going to be gone forever. Just like I know you haven’t left forever. Why would you? Our love is better than that.
—
On day twenty thousand one hundred eighteen, Grace and Hannah found themselves out there. In each other, really. And now they dream, with drops of Jupiter in their hair.
Rule 1: always post the rules
Rule 2: answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write your questions
Rule 3: tag people and link them to your post
Rule 4: actually tell them you tagged them
I was tagged by were-all-storys-in-the-end
Questions for me:
1. Reason I joined Tumblr
It was a really boring afternoon and it was dizzling. I was looking up how to tumble flawlessly and I saw 'Tumbling' then I saw Tumblr. I've been a slave since.
2. Fandoms I'm in
Faberry, HARRY POTTER. My second account is all about that.
3. Role model
Maya Rudolph, Amy Phoeler, Kristen Wiig
4. What do you want to accomplish by the time your 50
I want to able to tumble flawlessly
5. What are you excited for this year?
I'm hopefully going to college this year (THANK GOD!)
6. What do you love most about tumblr?
The nudes. Joking. I really love the people even though it's a one-sided relationship.
7. OTP?
Hmmmmmm
8. Favourite food
Potatoes
9. Favourote Youtube video
There are too many!
10. Favourite book
That's like asking what is the purpose of life. What? I mean it's impossible to answer this question!
My questions:
1. What is one thing you would if you could do ANYTHING?
2. What one thing would you change in our today's world?
3. How would you define love?
4. What characteristics in people do you hate?
5. Milk or orange juice?
I tag…
amiri-ixchel hartbigguyz yup-ithappens yesthatjess youtubers-andthings
or just anyone who wants to answer my weird questions. Yeah YOU.
I find it wildly entertaining when the sad fics from fan fiction past come back in full force. And this time it was two very sad fics that I had all the major feels for there are others but I'm not naming them because they are not going around right now. They are the gut wrenching wonderful Letusneverspeakofthis multi-chapter fic Izanami and the dreadfully amazing yup-ithappens two shot fic Drops of Jupiter. I would also like to point out.....BOTH OF THEM HAVE MADE US HAVE HAPPY FEELS SINCE CREATING THESE SAD FEELS. Please continue reading their writings....it's ALL GOOD stuff. They like to fuck with us but really, the payoff sometimes is worth it. So, you know keep calm and Hartbig on guyz it's in my name I have to add the z.
You guys Swace was rewritten. And it has been posted. But she's taking it down in TEN HOURS because she's a devious human that loves to tease and taunt us all with the smutiest of fanfiction. If you haven't read it yet, here you go.
Also, I'm totally posting the sequel to The Mistake I Made in like 54 minutes (4PM PST). I really hope you guys like it as much as the original. Also, fucking THANK YOU for giving that fic 100 notes. I did not expect it to be received that well. Also, go thank yup-ithappens for insisting that there be a part II. Without her, it wouldn't have been done.
