#and yes I checked it myself and went even further back than 2019 and there's nothing

[genericpuff]

hey so lore olympus isn't listed in any of the publicly available listings of Jim Henson Company copyrights

in case the odds against LO's TV show happening weren't stacked enough as it is

also for some reason there are only copyright numbers for the first four books of lore olympus so that's ... weird. that's weird, right??

#and yes I checked it myself and went even further back than 2019 and there's nothing #womp womp #again this isn't really iron clad PROOF it isn't happening but uhh y'all it's almost 2024 #the JHC announcement was made in 2019 and there's been NOTHING since #and now there isn't even any sort of record of JHC copyrighting anything even *adjacent* to LO #if it is happening then they're not being transparent about where they are in development #and a lot more signs point to it NOT happening #at least not any time soon #maybe when the comic's finished but god knows when that'll be at this point #these records are all publicly available btw #you can google them yourself #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

[wishingstarinajar]

I am going to ramble a bit but I will hide it under a cut because it's a bit long. It will be about the previous fandom I was active in around two years ago and how it affects me to this day. It's also about popularity and putting others on a pedestal.

If this sort of ramble isn't up your alley then feel very free to skip over this post! I don't mind. If you want to read more about it, just check under the cut.

The Franchise And Its Creators

====

THE FRANCHISE AND ITS CREATORS Around mid-2014, I joined the Wakfu and Dofus fandoms, a small-ish fandom as a whole but popular in certain circles.

For those who don't know, Wakfu and Dofus are (online, console, mobile, figurine, card and board) games, comics, animated series, specials and movies created by a French studio named Ankama. These two franchises are intertwined with each other as they play out in the same universe but in different timelines. I myself dabbled around in the animated part of the fandom; I was a huge fan of the two series and the Dofus movie.

There was very little catering to the international part of the fandom when it came to the studio's attention and interactions. There were no English dubs or subtitles; international fans had to rely on English fan subtitles on ripped/pirated episodes of the show and movie, same for the franga/comics. Merch was hard to get. A lot of articles related to the shows and whatnot were in French only, which is understandable because it is a French-made product. But there's no denying that the international fanbase felt a little neglected back then.

====

MY FANDOM JOURNEY

Because I was very interested in the lore of both franchises, I had to do a lot of digging and translating to be able to fully indulge in it all. I went full in! I dug deep, created OCs, art and also tried to write fanfiction. I also shared news and info about the series and movie; I ran a fan blog dedicated to sharing things with the international part of the fandom. I was also often approached about lore, particularly for a few of the canon characters and one of the races that play a role in the Wakfu franchise; the Eliatropes. It was fun, it felt good to help other fans out, it was nice to make friends and be creative with others about similar things.

Eventually, the character and art theft began. We all know this is a 'normal' part of fandoms, so I won't hammer too long on it. My issue with it was the fact that my main OC, a female Eliatrope, gathered a lot of attention because female Eliatropes were a rarity in the Wakfu franchise. They existed but didn't get a moment in the limelight, except for one that even received her own game (Islands of Wakfu) but it was so obscure that a lot of fans didn't know about its existence. My OC was somehow mistaken as canon by plenty of folks and many others started to use her as a template to create their own (female) Eliatrope OC. I didn't mind, as long as they weren't straight-up copies and I tried to be supportive by answering lore questions and give feedback whenever it was asked for it (which happened a lot). Of course, copying and theft happened more often than not; over the five years I was part of the fandom, I sent out almost a hundred DMCA reports for art and character theft (like true theft; I could handle some similarities or one-time occurrences). One particular case went to the extreme but I won't beat that dead horse any further; it brought me enough misery to last me half a lifetime, that's all I'll say on it. I kept a lot of the negative experiences behind closed doors and dealt with a lot of it quietly to not bother, worry or burden anyone else with any of it. I wanted a positive and supporting environment for my followers, even if the truth wasn't as pretty.

====

ANKAMA'S STRUGGLE

Over the years, studio Ankama increased attempts to cater more to the international fanbase of its animated properties (articles in English, English dubs and subtitles, etc). However, the studio's struggle to garner the attention of international supporters (aka companies and sponsors) didn't go too smoothly, and to make matters worse, they were also struggling with finding a platform in France to broadcast the Wakfu series on after wishing to take a different and more mature direction. Ankama wanted more freedom with the Wakfu show, like less censorship, a serial rather than episodic, and it not being aimed at a young audience like its previous contractor demanded Wakfu to be. Ankama even turned to crowdfunding to get certain projects (like new Wakfu seasons) off the ground and let's just say that those crowdfunding projects are best described as tiny dumpster fires; they weren't pretty to watch. The first one was a disaster with plenty of displeased backers and the following crowdfunding attempts often didn't meet the end goal due to bad past experiences or the lack of interest.

Luckily, Netflix breathed some life into the international Wakfu fandom, which was great! But it was still received badly (mostly due to the awful English dub and sound mixing of the first two seasons and special) that the third season Netflix made possible was not getting the attention it deserved. It was also a rushed product due to financial and time constraints on Ankama's part. Netflix eventually declined a fourth season and it all fell a bit apart from there. Ankama turned to crowdfunding once more to try and make season 4 a reality. Last time I checked (which was quite a while ago), it did decently enough to make season 4 a reality. (Please don't ask me about it, I don't know anything about it.)

====

THE PEDESTAL

While all this was happening behind the scenes, I was starting to struggle with the reputation I built up in the Wakfu and Dofus fandom over the few years I was a part of it. The best way to describe it is that I had grown exhausted.

Aside from dealing with the theft and answering people's questions daily, I wanted to be treated as an average fan but I kept getting put on a pedestal. People went as far as to call me by titles (like lady Wish and miss Wish) more often than not. To be called and treated as such made me feel alienated, like as if I wasn't considered real. I often asked to just be called Wish, no titles/formalities required, and that I wasn't as 'popular' as they believed, but the majority of the people didn't seem to listen. People were either afraid or refused to interact with me because they considered me 'too popular', or simply wanted nothing but my validation, feedback and/or free art. I also had my fair share of haters and people that didn't approve of my 'status' in the fandom. Join the club xD I wasn't very happy with it either.

I really started to dislike being called 'popular' because it had such a bad impact on the people around me (and my own mental wellbeing). Friends started to become jealous of the attention I garnered and it dragged me down every time. At times, it would turn toxic. It was never my intention to make my friends feel like they meant less because they surely didn't. To learn that they believed others were only friends with them or only looked at their art/writing because they were good friends with me hurt so much. It still does. I refuse to believe that was fully true because I was (and still am!) surrounded by very creative people and they all deserved as much attention as I was getting, at times more. I wish others saw it that way too.

I was also heavily chained down thanks to the role (model) I played in the fandom. Too many people (especially young ones) looked up to me and there were a lot of expectations that I felt forced to meet. I started to lose the energy for it, but if I dared to stray a little from the path, the pitchforks and torches would come out. It was very restricting.

In the end, I felt stuck. Things started to grow toxic. There was a point where I began to dislike the franchise because of the bad feelings it brought me. I couldn't even get myself to watch the series or movie anymore. I focused less and less on the canon side of things and more on my own ideas, which was one of the only comforts I really had left in the fandom. I started to shut myself off, which upset a lot of people. I am sorry for that, I wish it didn't happen that way but I was at my wits' end.

When I realized and also accepted that I was no longer enjoying myself with canon or fanon, I knew I had to move on or stuff would end badly. It was a very tough realization and decision to accept and make; I literally dedicated five years of my life to the fandom. I spent hours a day digging for info and news to translate and share, doing 'research' for my fanfics, answering questions, and whatnot. I truly lived the fandom day in and out. It was the first fandom I ever actively participated in to this degree. What the heck was I going to do without that?

====

THE NOW

Abandoning the fandom was a scary step to take but not one I regret. I left the Wakfu and Dofus fandom behind me in late 2019. I feel freer now and so much happier. I no longer have the burden of expectations, being a lore guide or be forced to portray a certain role model weighing me down. I am no longer on that f*cking pedestal. I can finally explore interests that aren't exactly child-friendly without a big part of my following pummeling me down for it. (Don't worry, I always try my best to keep it in the appropriate places.)

Do I still like Wakfu/Dofus and all the stuff I've created with it? Yes, I do but I also want nothing more to do with it. Aside from the friends I've made there and also stuck around on my new adventures, I left the fandom behind me.

I still get approached at times about how my Wakfu OC, art and writing inspired someone and ask me if I could give them feedback for their own ideas or give them advice/information on Wakfu/lore. I am extremely humbled by it every time. It's great to see someone feeling inspired and be creative. However, I've moved on. I've left interacting with the Wakfu/Dofus fandom and fan-made stuff far behind me. I haven't touched it for almost two years and it shows on all the social media I share my art and writing on. I at times wish people could be considerate about the fact that I moved on but I also know and understand that not everyone knows my reasoning or my side of the story. I try not to be too harsh on it.

====

MY ADVICE

I don't hate anyone for how things turned out; a lot of it was my own doing by not saying no or taking a stronger stand.

It did teach me a lot of things, especially about caring for my own well-being and putting others on pedestals. Please be mindful when you treat someone like others treated me before; it's not healthy, for yourself and the person you put on that high pedestal. Take everything in moderation and consideration, that's all. Everyone's human, everyone has feelings, and everyone deserves a sense of being. Even your favorite artists and content creators. Don't treat them like an otherwordly being that you have to worship.

In turn, if a fandom or something you enjoyed is making you unhappy nowadays, you owe it to yourself to make or find a change. Be good to yourself, always!

~~

Thanks to anyone who read through this ramble. I needed to get this off my chest. I am not asking for advice, neither pity or whatever else. I just wanted to share my thoughts on past experiences because I have a feeling others might be going through something similar.

Thank you again, please take care.

#wish talks #wish rambles #edited with some format fixes

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 6/8

Summary:

Mobius must face both his past and a brutal news. He opens his heart to Loki. Loki wonders about what connects them...

Notes:

Prepare some tissues...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82394134

House on the cliff - 2019

Mobius returned home, patiently awaited by Croki. While he was feeding him, he noticed that he had a message on his answering machine.

"Mobius, pick up, I have something to tell you. It's about Ravonna."

Forty-five minutes after Casey's call, Mobius rushed into the hospital.

He headed to the admissions office and spoke to the first person who came in.

"Hello, I'm looking for Ravonna Renslayer. I'm Mr. Mobius."

"Hold on a moment."

The young woman consulted her computer and looked up.

"Yes. Mr. Mobius. You are expected in Doctor Cho's general medicine department."

She pointed in the right direction.

When he arrived at the ward, he asked for Dr. Cho.

He waited a few minutes and a woman approached him, holding out her hand.

"Hello Mr. Mobius, I am Dr. Cho, I am the one who takes care of Mrs. Renslayer. Since you were the person to notify in case of an emergency, we called you."

"What happened? Is she okay?"

Dr. Cho motioned for him to follow her, "She's fine. She had a relatively minor collapse, but we'll have to keep her for a day or two, wait for the results of the tests we did. Since you are her only family according to her file, even for something minor we had to call you. I'll take you to her room."

Casey was waiting outside Ravonna's room when Mobius arrived with Dr. Cho. They embraced.

"How is she?" Mobius asked.

"You know her..." replied Casey, shaking his head. "I had to bring her some work, the latest reports from the financial department."

Mobius looked disbelieving and laughed, "Of course. The last thing we would want to do is let a little collapse endanger the company."

Mobius entered the room quietly. Ravonna laid on her bed, connected to monitoring devices, reading her reports and making annotations, papers scattered around her on her bed. She didn't hear him right away, and when she raised her head, she lowered the report but didn't put it down.

"Hi.", Mobius whispered.

Ravonna did not smile, simply nodded and continued to work on her files as if Mobius were not there.

After a while, she said, "I don't need you."'

Mobius simply replied, "I'm going to stay until your exam results come in."

"That's not until tomorrow morning."

"I'm not going to drive all the way home that late. I'm staying."

Ravonna shrugged and returned to her reading. The silence was deafening.

After a moment, Mobius picked up one of the magazines about expensive watches that was on the table and asked, "Do you mind if I..."

Ravonna shook her head, "Go ahead. If you're still interested in that kind of thing."

Mobius didn't look up and began flipping through the magazine.

When he looked up about ten minutes later, Ravonna was asleep. Mobius watched her breathe in the dimly lit room, the monitoring devices flashing silently. He picked up the papers scattered on the bed and stacked them neatly on the nightstand.

Then he sat down, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in the hospital room chair. Since this was impossible, he picked up a piece of paper and began to write to Loki.

I know I haven't written in a while.

But I need to... I wanted to tell you about someone who is very close to me. We are not related by blood, but I consider her to be family to me, like a big sister.

We grew up together in the orphanage.

She is well-known. You know her work... Ravonna Renslayer, the CEO of Time Keepers, the famous watch brand.

I always liked to put watches together and take them apart and Ravonna was good at putting things in the right light.

We decided to create Timekeepers when we were fourteen years old. We wanted to sell quality luxury watches that everyone could afford.

A dream of two orphans.

We promised ourselves that when we would be rich we would buy the house on the hill.

But Ravonna lost sight of our dreams and always wanted more. More money, more fame.

Mass production, overpriced watches, I had no pleasure in creating anymore.

Every meeting became a war zone.

Someone had to surrender. I did.  I quit. Without notice.

That's when I started Miss Minutes, my little store and got back to my roots.

Mobius must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes, he was aching from his position in the chair.

Seeing that Ravonna was still asleep, he went to the hospital cafeteria to get a cup of coffee, and when he came back up fifteen minutes later, he saw Dr. Cho.

"Ah, Mr. Mobius, we just reviewed her results with Mrs. Renslayer. Unfortunately, she has forbidden me to talk to you about them and does not want you to visit her anymore."

Mobius was hurt of course, but not surprised either, given their tense relationship.

Dr. Cho, however, took pity on him. "I can't go into detail, but regrettably, you'll have to prepare for the worst."

Mobius' heart leapt in his chest and with a tight throat, he asked, "How long?"

Dr; Cho put her hand on his shoulder and said, " At any moment. I'm sorry."

Mobius left the hospital in a daze and drove to the house on the cliff. As soon as he arrived, he fed Croki, sat down in his chair and continued the letter to Loki. At this time, it was his only source of comfort.

Loki's apartment - 2021

Loki, in casual attire with Croki by his side, was sitting on his couch reading the letter from Mobius. He was very moved by the way Mobius opened up to him.

His heart cried at the sadness he felt in the letter. Obviously Ravonna was someone dear to his heart.

Once again, Loki was frustrated by the barrier of years between them. He wanted so much to be with Mobius, to support him. He sighed as he continued to read the letter.

I don't know what I expected.

Part of me thought that given her condition, I would get more than a "She doesn't want to see you anymore."

But of course, that's not how things work. When I left TK, I rejected everything she stood for.

That's how she saw it.

I think the fact that I bought the house cemented our disagreement for her and it's too late to change things now.

One thing is for sure: if I was really hoping for a tearful little bedside meeting, I'm as stupid as she thinks I am.

Well, good. I seem to have poured my little heart out here. I'm sorry.

Thanks for reading.

I want to tell you things I've never told anyone.

Things I didn't know myself until I wrote them down to send to you.

Maybe that's the strangest part of it all.

Love, Mobius.

Loki lingered on this letter, and especially on the last word, "LOVE". He patted Croki's head, thoughtful.

He had so many questions.

Love, Mobius.

Was it casual? Mobius was the kind of person who knew exactly what he was saying. Every word was important.

So the next question was, did Loki feel the same way?

Loki didn't need to reflect, he knew what he felt.

The question that remained was, did they have a future...?

Mobius' house - 2019

Croki trotted over to Mobius' bed. Mobius was lying down, unable to sleep, but it was too early to get up. He felt like picking up the phone but resisted.

Loki's apartment - 2021

Loki couldn't sleep anymore, something was disturbing him since he had read Mobius' letter.

He got up and went to his computer, he had to check one thing about Ravonna Renslayer.

Two minutes later he rushed out of his apartment and drove to the house on the cliff.

Mobius House - 2019

Mobius après s’être préparé pour aller au travail, sortit de sa maison et se dirigea vers son pickup.

Mobius House - 2021

Loki braked hard and ran to the mailbox. He put a piece of paper in it and raised the flag with a sudden movement.

Mobius House - 2019

Mobius drove away from the house without seeing the flag that was rising behind him. A few minutes later, his phone on the passenger seat began to ring.

Glancing down, he saw that it was Dr. Cho.

He pulled over to the side of the road and with a lump in his throat, took the call.

"Yes?"

-Mr. Mobius, this is Dr. Cho. I'm afraid I have some difficult news for you.

A few minutes later, in a daze, he parked in front of his house. On his way to his house. He saw that the flag was up.

He opened it, took the note, read it and then let his arm fall back, the paper flew away before landing further.

You need to go back to the hospital right away! Ravonna Renslayer died on-

A few days later, Mobius sat in the back of the church while the pastor preached to a crowd that Mobius knew was there more for Ravonna's fame than for their connection to her.

He didn't listen to the sermon and, clutching Loki's last letter in his pocket, he thought about what he had written.

Mobius, I'm so sorry about Ravonna.

Even though every pain is different, I know what it's like to lose the little family we have left.

I knew I had to at least try to warn you. I thought I could do it in time.

I hoped we could change what happened. I was wrong.

I guess these things can't be changed.

What I do know is that the shock is still fresh for me, even though it happened two years ago, so I can't imagine what it's like for you.

These things just happen...sometimes. I know.

Last February, I remember it was Valentine's Day, but it was really hot for a day in February.

I was at the fountain in Valhalheim Square.

And something happened. I won't bore you with the details now, but it was hard. Not like what you're going through, but it bothered me a lot.

And a friend gave me some good advice.

She told me to go to a place that would bring me peace.

That's what I did. I drove to the house on the cliff.

And that was the day I got your first letter.

It's a place we both love, a place that has a huge meaning for both of us, I hope you can find some solace there.

And I hope that what has kept you and Ravonna apart will eventually seem less important, and perhaps, in time, disappear.

YOURS, Loki.

Loki's words echoing in his head, Mobius was anxious to get to the house, to seek and perhaps find the solace that Loki spoke of.

When he arrived, he saw the flag raised. He opened the box, and took out not a note, but a book.

When he turned it over, his heart stopped for a moment.

For all times - Always by R.RENSLAYER

He returned home and sitting down in his chair, he opened it and saw first a small note from Loki's hand.

The book won't be published for a year.

or two, so don't show it to anyone. But I thought you should see it.

He turned the first page and could not stop the tears from flowing.

To Mobius

This is the story of a dream.

The story of a brother and sister bound by an ideal

But like all true stories, it doesn't always end well.

They chose a different path.

They drifted apart and never found each other again.

But without the presence of one in the life of the other, neither of them would have become what they are.

A story of two lives, a story of two successes, a story of two paths.

Underneath was a photo, Ravonna and him in front of the house on the cliff.

He continued to flip through the book, his eyes blurry with tears, and felt as if he was going through pieces of his life.

Pictures of TK's creation, of Mobius' workshop, of their first offices.

The day of the first opening.

Then the various collections of watches over the years, from the first one designed by Mobius to the latest luxury watches. Created after his departure.

Pictures of the rise of TK.

Photos taken after Mobius' time.

Until the last photo.

It was the front of Miss Minutes, of his shop.

A single sentence underneath.

We have taken different paths, our views have drifted apart, but you will always be my brother. For All time. Always.

Mobius wept for a long time over Ravonna, over the lost years, over what could have been. Then when the tears had dried, he closed the book and placed it neatly on the shelf. His hand lingered on the title for a moment.

Then, looking determined, he took his old sketchbook, sat outside the house and began to draw.

Loki's apartment - 2021

Loki, looking bewildered, was contemplating a sketch of the house on the hill.

At the bottom of the house, written in charcoal, it read:

I WANT TO MEET YOU!

FOR REAL THIS TIME!

_______

As a reader, I hate cliffhangers... I apologize in advance for being so cruel, I hope you will forgive me 😭

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

#lokius fics #lokius #Developing Relationship #no powers au #Alternate Universe #Letters #penpal #loki series au #loki #mobius m. mobius

[ozzdog12]

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year. 

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out. 

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so. 

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

#videogames #control #grindstone #tlou #doom eternal #gears tactics #ghost of tsushima #ps4 #ps5 #xbox one #switch #nintendo switch #playstation4 #GOTY #spiderman #astro playroom

[theasstour]

𝓞𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓼𝓶 𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓪𝓾𝓵𝓪 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪 𝓟𝔂𝓵𝓮

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 16.3k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie! ilysm!

Friday, 2 August 2019

Y/N was just about to start cleaning up her dinner when three knocks sounded from her front door. She looked over at Viola who slept peacefully in their bed, not even opening an eye to look in the direction of the taps. Her mind instantly went to who could possibly be knocking on her door. It wouldn’t be Salvatore after last night, Y/N had a suspicion he might not want to confront the situation, only let it slide by till it was irrelevant and gone. Neither would it be Rin or Meo, they were mates with Salvatore but Y/N knew they were their own people and would probably have gone to check on her if they actually knew where she lived. It wouldn’t be Gioele, neither Jamie. And just like that, she was running out of people it could be.

She walked to the door, opening it so her head could stop spinning with possible outcomes to what was about to happen. But she started dizzying even more when she saw who stood there.

“Harry.”

He was wearing his dungarees again, another one of his white tank tops, and pink Converse. When she opened the door and said his name, he looked up from the ground. The alcohol from last night had worn off, the lack of sleep he’d gotten and a slight headache showed in the small circles under his eyes and tired irises. He ran a hand through his hair, getting a curl away from before his eyes. Y/N hadn’t thought Harry would show up, even after what happened the night before. She herself didn’t quite understand the whole situation; why it had been hard to sleep last night because she couldn’t get the feeling of Harry’s lips against her skin out of her head. She remembered everything so incredibly clearly, every little detail. And now Harry was here. Out of free will. Knocking at her door. The day after he’d stood up for her in that pub and kissed her hand.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice weak as he probably hadn’t spoken till now today. Quickly, he cleared his throat.

Y/N looked over at her kitchen, but Viola stroking her back against her leg stopped her from answering. A small meow and a flick of her tail later, and Harry was hunched down, petting her. Y/N just watched as Viola closed her eyes and moved closer to Harry, purring her approval of him being there. Swiftly, he picked her up, hugging her to his chest while scratching Viola behind her ears. Harry looked from Viola and at Y/N, encouraging her to answer his previous question. However, it was hard when someone who had all her emotions kind of confused and her stomach doing funny things, stood right before you cuddling your cat, looking all adorable and insanely sexy at the same time. She scratched at her neck, keeping her eyes on Viola.

“About to make some dinner.” She said.

“And how is it?”

Her eyes met his, a little taken aback by his interest in something as simple as what her dinner was going to be. “Good.” She simply replied, not really knowing what else he wanted her to say.

“So you’re doing okay? After last night?”

She felt herself take a huge inhale of air along with the tingles that ran up her spine, all the way out to her fingertips. Something about Harry needing to know she was alright got to her; something about the urgency in his voice made her entire body sing with a feeling she couldn’t quite put a word to. Biting her lips together, she tried to calm her goosebumps before speaking again.

“Depends on which part you’re referring to.”

“All of it.” He said, Viola stroking her forehead against his jawline. “The bar…” he trailed off, swallowing hard as his jaw tensed for a single second. “Fucking Salvatore touchin-“ he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Me coming back to your flat, us talking…” she could tell he was going to say more, but thought better of it.

“Okay with everything.” She answered and she could just see the sigh of relief that left Harry. “Besides the Salvatore bit, of course. But… he acted like that before you came into the pub anyway-“

“-He what?”

Her mouth fell open and she looked into his eyes again. “He was drunk-“

“-That’s no excuse, Y/N. Did he make you uncomfortable?”

He’d never acted like this before. The only other time he had showed that he didn’t stand for people mistreating her was the night before, other than that he hadn’t been particularly nice to her either. But, somewhere along the line, that must’ve changed. And she supposed it must’ve changed for her as well. That still didn’t make this whole situation less surreal. Harry truly did care about her, in his own way. It was all a lot.

“Well?” he asked, still petting Viola, though the movements of his hand were a little hasty.

“Yes.”

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose, looking about him as anger visibly clouded his eyes and appeared in every single one of his limbs. She could tell he wanted to find Salvatore and say or do God knows what. He was about to walk down the stairs, but then seemed to remember he was holding Viola. Desperately looking around for something, she started snickering a little to herself. He looked ridiculous. But it was somehow a little… cute.

“I’m gonna fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Y/N could kind of guess where it was going.

“Harry, it’s okay-“

“-I swear to God, Y/N, if you excuse his behaviour one more time I’m gonna go fucking berserk.”

Viola started moving around in Harry’s hands, getting restless, and the look on Harry’s face made Y/N chuckle again.

“What’re you laughing at? I’m serious.” He asked, trying to calm the little cat down by scratching her again.

“Nothing.” Y/N said, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she laughed again.

Just then, the right side of his lips tipped upward again as he watched her. Viola restless in his hands and a curl hanging before his eyes. He quickly looked away, though the smile he was trying to fight didn’t go completely away. Seeing him like that, all angry yet soft, made a slight heat rise to her cheeks, making her entire body react with it.

“If I ever see him again, I’m gonna bloody knock his teeth out.” Harry mumbled, hunching down and putting Viola down on the floor so she could walk back into the flat.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe. “Why?”

“Because… ‘cause…” he stammered, watching as Viola strolled into the flat safely before rising up into a straightened position. As their eyes met, Y/N could swear her heart skipped a little beat. Something about him in the bad lighting of the staircase made him look beautiful in another way than he did normally. It was the darkness of night, the promise that darkness held. The uncertainty and possibilities a night held, like everything that was possible during the day could happen, only more intense and out of control; just the way you wanted it to happen, yet not how you imagined in the slightest.

“’Cause he made you uncomfortable.” He said finally.

She gave him a little smile. “And you don’t think I can tell him myself? That he stepped over a line?”

“Not that,” Harry shook his head a few times. “I believe you’re capable of whatever you put your stubborn fucking mind to.”

This made Y/N throw her head back a little to laugh. When she looked back at him, he was watching her with that tiny smile of his on his lips.

“Gonna stand behind you and let you tell him to fuck off and eat some bad mozzarella, and then-“

“-Random.”

Harry giggled. “Then I’m gonna step in and give him a nice punch straight to the nose.”

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head at him.

“I’ve done gymnastics for a reason, now I can throw a punch to his skull and break it if you’d like me to.”

She laughed, holding a hand to her chest. Their eyes met.

“Wanna go to the bakery now? Bet we’re just able to make it before they close.”

Chuckling, she said, “You’re mental.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“And as much as I would love to see you flatten Salvatore to the ground,” Harry snickered at her choice of words. “I don’t think violence is the way to go.”

He inhaled hugely, nodding his head as he let his eyes linger on her face, taking in her features for a few long seconds. “Fine, yeah. You’re right.”

She smiled at him. “Why’re you here anyway? To just stand there in my doorway?”

“Session.”

She frowned. “What, now?”

“Yes, so get dressed, we’re going for a drive.” He said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dungarees. He turned, beginning on his walk down the stairs to the ground floor. “10 minutes.” He simply shouted over his shoulder, not giving her anything else before he disappeared, giving her no choice but to do as he asked.

Quickly, she got ready as she always did. Found a pair of knee socks, her doc Martens, the dress, and everything else she might need for their session. Harry always gave her a day or so notice before they had a session, but he’d never done this before. She didn’t know what she thought he was doing at her door now anyway, but maybe she’d forgotten about a mail he’d sent her? Maybe he’d told her days ago and she’d just forgotten? This wasn’t like him at all. However, she wasn’t about to tell him that. She was very spontaneous herself, so seeing Harry – someone that was usually her opposite in that sense – be spontaneous as well, not go according to his usual plans, made her feel something she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. She gave Viola a quick kiss to the forehead before she ran outside, locked the door, and then went downstairs to catch Harry.

He was standing there with his yellow moped, all his equipment and bag on the ground beside him. She huffed a little.

“We’re taking your moped?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Now hop the fuck on.”

“Y/N!”

They both looked further up the road where a figure was moving toward them in the dark of the evening, waving an arm and laughing a familiar laughter. She recognised him instantly, smiling back at him.

“Marco!” She stepped away from the door into her building, closing it firmly behind her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answered, stopping as he reached them. “Just closed the Panetteria.”

Y/N chanced a look at Harry who was already staring at her. They both undoubtedly thought of the same thing; their conversation earlier, and how if they were quick enough, they could make the bakery before it closed so Harry could give Salvatore a black eye. She bit her lip a little before looking back at Marco, who looked at her just as happily as before.

“You’re coming to the wedding 9th August, yes?” Marco asked, adjusting his glasses a little.

“We haven’t gotten the invitations yet.” Y/N pointed out, shrugging her shoulders a little.

“10am, 9th, the church in town. Signor Styles knows where it is.” Marco said, smiling at Harry standing beside Y/N. Harry gave the baker a little wave, stunning Marco so that he took a small step back. It was obvious the old man hadn’t initially expected a reaction from the painter. Marco laughed a little before looking back at Y/N. “La Serenata is the 8th.”

She furrowed her brows. “La what?”

“La Serenata.” Harry repeated, making Y/N glance his way again. “It’s this old Italian tradition, it’s fallen out of fashion in recent years, but people still tend to do it in Fosdinovo. Old village with old traditions and all that.” He shrugged. “The night before the wedding, the groom serenades the bride from outside her window in celebration of their impending union. Sometimes the bride will lower a basket of gifts such as prosciutto, bread, and cheese. It all symbolises her acceptance of the proposal a second time around.”

“That’s so cute!” Y/N grinned, looking at Marco again. “Where’d that be? The bride’s house?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the baker nodded “On Via Papiriana. Come, come!”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N sighed. “We don’t even know the couple.”

“You need to experience La Serenata! It’s Fosdinovo tradition!” Marco encouraged, using his arms enthusiastically as he spoke, and Y/N couldn’t help herself, she had to chuckle a little.

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Signor Styles too?”

Y/N and Marco both looked at Harry, who suddenly seemed uncomfortable with the attention they were giving him. He cleared his throat. “I’ll have a think about it.”

“He’ll be there, Marco. Thanks for inviting us.”

Marco gave them both a little bow, saying his goodbye and telling Y/N he’d see her soon. With that, the old baker started making his way up the road again, on his way home to relax after a day at work.

“What if I don’t wanna go?” Harry asked her, obviously annoyed she’d taken his spare time and plans into her own hands.

“You’ll have to show me to the bloody street, won’t you?” She looked at him, taking the helmet he was reaching out for her. “Let’s go, Signor Styles.”

“Don��t say that.”

She giggled, motioning for him to get on first as she took his bag on her back. He did, watching her as she got the rucksack on, making sure she was okay before he turned to put his hands on the handles. Unlike the time before, she wasn’t reluctant to be close to Harry now. She thought they might’ve stepped over that line last night when he kissed her hand, or when he chose for them to take his moped instead of letting Gioele drive them.

Getting on, she slid down the seat until her front was flush against Harry’s back, her exposed skin against his. Every single millimetre where her body met his, she was ultra-aware. It was like she’d grown some sort of new power; feeling the shifting of his cells against hers, feeling them intermingle and get familiar with one another. She bit her lip a little, wrapping her arms around his waist while he got the ignition going. As he placed his arm back against his form, the soft skin of the underside of his upper arm meeting hers, her entire body went up in flames. He was so soft, so opposite to what he’d shown her before last night, and she was starting to realise that she needed to take a much closer look at this man to get a better grasp of him. Taking a small glance over his shoulder to make sure she was comfortable and safe, Harry revved the engine, and they drove off again.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to recognise the road to Lerici. The night around them had made it hard for her to make it out at first, but she saw the sign welcoming them and then the little coastal town rose up around them. The familiar smell of salt in the air was refreshing, and she closed her eyes as she let it become everything she knew for a few moments. This time around, Harry didn’t drive them up the road to the cliff, but rather down a very small gravel path Y/N was sure was mainly made for pedestrians. Soon enough, they were by the tiny beach she’d seen from the cliff last time. There was no sign of anyone having ever been there, though she supposed the path made it evident that someone had. It seemed untouched and ancient, the kind of place you dreamed of and saw pictures of but never thought you’d actually see. But here she was.

Harry stopped the moped, cutting the engine and looking over his shoulder for Y/N to step off first. She took the helmet off first, before placing her hands on Harry’s shoulders, and – not so gracefully – stepping off. Harry tried getting off a little too early, causing Y/N, who was putting her weight on him, to stumble. The skirt of her dress rode up, exposing part of her upper thigh, some of her bum, and most definitely a small view of her knickers. She squealed, quickly straightening it all out before daring to look at Harry. He was watching her, clearly having stopped in the middle of his own process of getting off when he saw the whole scene unfold before him. As their eyes met, he quickly looked away. She thought she could just about make out a slight redness to his cheekbones that usually wasn’t there.

She gave him the helmet and he put it under the seat of the moped, biting his lips together. Instead of thinking about what had just happened, Y/N turned her attention back on the beach before her. She hadn’t noticed the full moon till now, how it was a little bigger tonight, how it shone in the dark ocean. If she didn’t know better, she thought this might’ve been Harry’s intention all along.

“Right,” Harry said, walking down toward the street. Y/N followed suit. “I need you to stand in the ocean.”

She frowned, giving the rucksack with all his equipment to him. He raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Then I’ll have to take my knee socks off.”

Harry’s eyes fell to her white knee socks where they lingered for a few seconds before he gave her a short nod and looked away. Y/N felt herself swallow quite hard, the effect of Harry’s stare running through her body like a wave of tickles. However, quickly recovering and not wanting Harry to know him looking at her like that had an effect on her, Y/N let out a laugh.

“What now?” he asked, refusing to look at her.

She was genuinely laughing now.

“Is this a piss take?”

She snorted. “They’re just my legs, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She raised her eyebrows, finding it amusing how he busied himself with his rucksack and everything else instead of looking at her. “You can look at me while I take them off.”

“Are you encouraging me to watch you undress?”

Y/N put her hand before her mouth as she laughed, not being able to help herself. She snorted, as she often did when she laughed hard enough, and though she remembered a time long ago when she used to be embarrassed of that sound, she wasn’t anymore. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry watching her now. Both his dimples showing along with small crinkles by his eyes, teeth bright in the moonlight. His shoulders and chest moved with laughter as well, and the sound sent shivers up Y/N’s spine.

She recovered, trying to calm herself down a little bit. Harry might be fit, but he was not allowed to have that kind of effect on her. She bent down, untying her docs, and stepping out into the sand with her socks on. Hooking her thumb and index finger on the inside of one of her knee socks, she slid it down her leg putting it in her shoes when it was off. Discreetly, she looked in Harry’s direction, only to notice him watching her. As soon as he saw her eyes on him, he looked away, clearing his throat before directing his attention at the positioning he wanted for the painting. She bit her bottom lip from smiling.

Now barefoot, Y/N started walking into the ocean, stopping when the water just reached her knees. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for Harry to redirect her as he hadn’t given her any clear directions as to how he wanted her to be standing for this one. However, he didn’t even acknowledge her looking at him. Instead, he was sat in the sand, the canvas propped on a small easel before him, and the paint palette in his hand. Cocking his head to the side, he started painting. Y/N looked ahead, taking in the yellow state of the moon that night.

“You know,” she started, listening to the waves softly hitting the shore around her. “You’ve never told me what this collection is about, like what you’re trying to tell. I’m assuming it’s a kind of story, innit?”

“You’ve never asked.” He replied, as if it was the most obvious answer.

“I need to ask?”

“You think I’m just gonna tell you?”

She bent down a bit, running her hand through the moving sea beneath her. “People who are passionate about stuff they’re doing tend to talk about it, and it’s also very fun to listen to them. Nice to listen to someone being happy. When people talk about something that keeps them living, you find a new reason to yourself.”

“Find a new reason to live in seeing someone else talk about something they’re passionate about?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Makes you see that there’s a reason for everyone out there. Though you might not have found your own yet, you will eventually, you know?”

Harry fell silent for a moment before, “I’m still not telling you.”

Y/N groaned, standing up straight again. “Why?”

“I just…” he shrugged. “Don’t wanna.”

She sighed. “You know, in order to properly make a connection with someone, you gotta open up to people.”

Waves crashed around them, filling the silence since Harry’s response didn’t. She dared to look over her shoulder at him, finding him already staring at her, pencil held up against the canvas, paused mid stroke. When their eyes met, Y/N had to concentrate on standing upright. It was hard to remain balanced when two intense eyes were unashamedly glancing at her, mulling over her words.

“That’s a heavy subject to be discussing on the beach at night.” Harry said before he went back to painting again.

Y/N smiled. “Isn’t that something we should be discussing on the beach at night? Seems like the right setting, doesn’t it? Poetic and all that.” She looked ahead again, staring at the big full and yellow moon before her. “Sorry, I won’t push you. I take it all back.”

“Thank you.” He said.

Y/N resorted to studying the landscape around her. She glanced up at the cliff where she had found Viola, where she had first seen Harry smile, and remembering all the times she’d seen him smile since. With all that, she realised how far they had come. Harry, who was so set on her following his rules he’d put for the summer and for her to follow his orders, that same bloke hadn’t told her how to stand for his painting today; he smiled at her; he showed up on her doorstep when he’d been the one to say he didn’t want a relationship with her outside work. Look at them now, she thought, feeling something in her chest warm up.

“You went quiet.” Harry said suddenly.

“Isn’t that good?” she asked, inhaling. “Remember you said you didn’t want me to talk to you while you were painting. It was one of the set rules for the summer.”

“That was then.”

Y/N bit her lip, eyes falling to the dark water beneath her. “Oh?”

“It’s… it’s…” he started, searching for the right words. “I don’t mind now.”

Her heart was hammering, the smile on her face ridiculous. God, was she happy Harry couldn’t see her face now. “Don’t mind me talking?”

“No.”

Her smile widened; her chest felt warmer. “Good to hear, because I like to talk.”

“That you do.”

She giggled. “Do you like it when I talk, Harry?”

The question was an obvious piss take. She wasn’t expecting a response, at least not a proper one. The two of them had grown into a nice habit of taking the mick out of one another every once in a while, so she was waiting for Harry to follow her lead. Instead, he left her breathless. All joking about gone.

“Yes.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes stared blankly at the moon. He… he liked it when she talked? Had she heard him right? Was he joking along, but she just hadn’t understood what he was trying to do? She blinked to herself, trying to find some sort of explanation, but there didn’t seem to properly be one unless he was serious.

“Got you speechless?” Harry asked, huffing a little to himself. “Gotta pat myself on the back for that.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, opening her mouth a few times before, “I thought you liked silence, when you get to think and can listen to the quiet.”

There was a slight pause when the only thing she heard was the beating of her own heart in her ears. “I like listening to you more.”

How could one person make another feel like this? Like the whole sun resided inside their chest, threatening to explode at any second to reveal a crater created purely out of star dust and fondness? How was it possible to feel this much at once and not go up into flames? So much was happening inside Y/N’s body she felt a tingling in her fingers. Was this what it felt like to fall in love, she asked herself, not knowing for sure till years later when she was able to give herself a proper and positive answer to her own question. That was what it was. Falling into the endless cavity of emotion and devotion, a pit it was impossible to ever wholly find your way out of.

Harry cleared his throat, making Y/N jump a little. “But shut up now, because I need to get the moon right. Can’t have distractions.”

So she was quiet, the small smile on her face impossible to wipe off. She couldn’t hear Harry behind her, the soft sounds of nature made sure of that, but she felt him. Like her cells knew his was there, desperately, longingly reaching for him. She wondered if he could feel it, too.

Before long, Harry sighed heavily, and said, “Done. Just need it to dry a bit and we can leave.”

Finally, she turned around, looking at him properly for the first time in around two hours. She walked backward, feeling the cold water reaching further and further up her bare thighs.

“Come.”

He watched her for a few seconds, stunned. “Come?”

“Yeah, come.”

“But I’m not hard.”

Y/N burst out laughing, leaning her hands on her knees as she snorted. She heard him laughing as well, and she suddenly wished to mute herself completely so all she could ever hear for the rest of her life was Harry’s laughter. She opened her eyes, smiling broadly at him.

“Just come here, the water’s actually not cold at all.” She said, raising up into a proper position.

He looked at the ocean around her before looking back at her walking further into the deep. “But you can’t see the bottom, it’s too dark.”

“So?” she shrugged. “Do you see your future?”

Harry frowned, not catching on, but nevertheless, he answered earnestly. “No.”

“But you still keep on living, don’t you? Even though you can’t see your future properly? Even though you can’t see the bottom? Where it ends?” she smiled at him, stopping. “Live a little, you don’t have to see everything clearly.”

She raised her arms above her head, gave him a little wink, and then fell back into the sea behind her. She heard Harry shout something before she went under. The crisp evening ocean enveloped her, swaying her lightly from side to side, sounding of eternity. She smiled, opening her eyes, only to see the white moon above her, lighting up the dark night. After a few seconds she brought herself back up to the surface, wiping water away from her face. Harry now stood with water till about his ankles, watching her, so she gave him a grin.

“Now you’re all bloody wet.” He said, frowning as he took her in. The dress clung to her, something she was very aware of the longer Harry stared at her form and not her eyes.

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, innit?”

Harry shook his head, not being able to help his chuckles, and Y/N suddenly felt very proud she was able to make the painter laugh. She giggled as well.

“Right, quit the sexual references.” Harry said.

“You started.”

Harry just smiled, looking down at his feet in the water.

“Come have a swim.”

She saw him shake his head, not moving his eyes from the spot just beneath him. “I don’t like the dark.”

“So, you decided to drive to the beach, in the middle of the night, to paint in the dark?” She wasn’t trying to take the piss, it was a genuine question, because she saw he was very much not joking about right now.

“Doesn’t make sense to you?” he asked, looking over at her.

“I mean,” she shrugged, running her hands through the water. “I’m trying to, but can’t make much sense.”

With that, Harry leaned down, folding the bottom of his dungarees till they were further up his calves, that way he could walk closer to her. Though he didn’t get much further before she saw he mentally hit a wall. She walked a bit closer to him as well, feeling a breeze brush past them that was a little colder now that she was wet.

“When I was 10, I had a nightmare.” Harry started, running his hand along his jaw. “I don’t remember much of it, but I remember thinking there was a monster in my room. When I woke up, I couldn’t move.”

Y/N felt her heart sink a little, hating where this was going. “Sleep paralysis.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded.

“At 10?”

“Yeah.”

“Must’ve been traumatising.”

Harry inhaled sharply, staring off into the distance. “And I couldn’t stop staring at the corner of my room, thought I saw something there. And then I started hearing all these sounds outside my room, thought more monsters were coming, but it was just my sister who heard me crying, so she came to check on me.”

Suddenly feeling very bad and in huge need to hug him, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he nodded a little. “But it’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yes, it is,” she corrected. “Sorry you had to go through that.”

He nodded again, eyes meeting hers. “Scarred me, and now I don’t like the dark.”

She gave him a little smile, silently telling him that she understood, and he didn’t have to go on unless he felt he wanted to. Though he had just admitted he liked her talking, there simply are moments when talking is not necessary.

“Though,” he went on, wetting his lips quickly. “I liked what you said about the dark, how not seeing doesn’t necessarily mean what you’re moving toward is scary or is hiding something that could potentially hurt you.”

She gave him a little smile, watching him take in the moon mirrored in the moving waters. “Your fears are your fears for a reason, it’s hard to get rid of them.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking at her again. “But I’m not scared of the sea. Don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

“Well, ‘cause it’s dark, innit? Don’t be hard on yourself.”

He inhaled, eyes lingering on her face for a few. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I often am.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Y/N laughed, walking closer to him and shore. “Should we leave? Has your painting dried a bit?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Good, because I’m getting sleepy.” She walked up to the beach, wringing the end of her dress to get as much water as possible out of it. A slight gust of wind hit her, immediately sending a wave of shivers up her spine. She gasped a little, body shaking slightly as it went through her body, but she quickly recovered, turning her attention to the other side of her dress. When she looked up, wanting to see how far Harry had gotten in packing all his things together, she met his eyes. Obviously having seen her discomfort with the scant cold, he walked up to his moped and opened the seat again. He came back with a towel, and she quickly remembered how he kept one on him. That’s how she picked Viola up when she first found her. This was a different towel, though.

He unfolded it as he came closer, holding it in one hand as he stopped before her. Leaning closer, he got the other side of the towel from behind her. She felt his breath against her nose, the droplets that were still on her face suddenly turning very hot along with the rest of her. His eyes moved to hers, and he suddenly stopped his movements. No one moved. For a few heavenly seconds they just stood there looking at each other, taking in every second they could be close like this when the intention could be explained, when they had a reason. It took everything in Y/N not to look down at his lips. Those soft lips he had pressed against her hand and palm the night before; those pink lips that had been her entire world for a few long, celestial moments. How she longed to unfold her own against those lips.

Harry took a grip of the other side of the towel without breaking eye contact, getting so close that she swore she could make out each one of the freckles across the bridge of his nose. As he stepped back a little, he wrapped the towel around her, making sure it was placed nicely across her shoulders. Gingerly, he placed his hands on her shoulders. First, she felt his pinky finger, then his ring finger, middle, index, and then his thumb right by her neck. With each tap of his finger, she felt like an earthquake of blissful tingles shocked her entire body. She felt like she was vibrating with the hundreds of butterfly wings that beat inside her tummy.

He ran his hands down her upper arms, then took a step back, snapping them both harshly out of whatever had just gone down between them.

“Dry yourself off a bit.” He mumbled, walking back to his stuff and packing everything.

Y/N just stood there for a few seconds, regaining her composure before drying herself. Once she was done, she folded the towel and gave it back to him and he handed her the rucksack. She watched him put the towel back in its place as she got the rucksack on. Soon they were on their way again, Harry driving fast down the road and Y/N holding onto him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the soft skin of his neck; the feeling of his curls blowing in the wind, right into her face. It was as if now that she knew what he looked like up close, now that she had the time to take him in like this without interruption, she couldn’t help herself.

They arrived in Fosdinovo not long after, Harry stopping his moped outside his house before asking if Y/N was okay to walk home, which she very much was. As she got off the bike, she saw two circles and a bigger splotch on Harry’s back after her tits and tummy. Her cheeks heated up instantly and she hoped he didn’t feel the wet spots himself. She got the helmet off, trying not to let it show that she was freezing, and handed it back to Harry to put it under his seat.

As she handed him his rucksack back, their hands touched. Their eyes met right after, both seemed to stop. Quickly, Harry took the rucksack by the other strap and hand, hoisting it onto his shoulder, all the while not letting go of Y/N’s fingers. They stood there, in the complete darkness of the night, the rest of the small village fast asleep around them. The crickets sang for them; the moon watched them; knowing what the two of them knew in their hearts but were too afraid to voice.

Harry gave her fingers a little squeeze, and it was then Y/N noticed he was holding her left hand, the same hand he had kissed the night before.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She inhaled slowly, afraid that any rash movements would ruin the moment. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He gave her hand another squeeze before letting it go and taking a small step back. She smiled at him, turning around, beginning her walk back to her flat. Looking over her shoulder when she was about to turn up the small street to her own, she caught Harry watching her still, and when their eyes met, neither broke eye contact till Y/N rounded the corner.

Sunday, 4 August 2019

Viola knew the way to the bakery now. She walked ahead of Y/N, looking back at her every once in a while when she wanted to walk a little faster but the lead prevented her. It was a cloudy day; the swirl of white interrupted every here and there with dark clouds that threatened with rain. Y/N didn’t have much on the agenda today anyway, so she wasn’t too bothered. In fact, it was rather nice to get a small break from the Italian summer sun for a single day.

Before walking through the door of the Panetteria, Y/N looked through the windows on either side to make sure Salvatore wasn’t working that day. When she couldn’t see him, she let Viola enter the bakery before her, announcing their arrival with a small meow.

“Y/N!”

She jumped a little, looking to her right to see Meo sitting at one of the tables. She hadn’t seen him till now, which was very weird as he had been seated right by the big window. Guess she was just going bloody blind. He grinned, folding his newspaper before resting it in his lap.

“How are you?” he asked, taking a little look at Viola before exclaiming, “And who is this beauty?”

“That’s Viola, and I’m good, how about you?”

Just then, Rin walked out from the door behind the counter, giving Y/N a friendly smile. “Hi.”

“Hiya.” Y/N smiled right back at her. “Could I get a croissant to go, please?”

“Yes, you can.” Rin gave her a little wink, moving to put a croissant into a paper bag for Y/N. “How have you been since Thursday?”

Meo, who was bending down to pet Viola, stopped and looked up at the two ladies. “What happened Thursday?”

“Salvatore acted like an idiot and made Y/N visibly uncomfortable.” Rin answered, standing by the cashier waiting for Y/N.

“You got her, Meo?” Y/N asked, referring to the cat he was petting again.

“Yeah.” He nodded, picking her up and putting her on top of the newspaper in his lap. Y/N walked over to Rin to pay. “Have you spoken to him since, Y/N?”

She shook her head, handing Rin a few euros. “I’d like for him to apologise, but don’t feel like he’s the type to admit he was in the wrong.”

Rin was quick to back Y/N’s theory, “He won’t.”

Meo sighed. “Rin-“

“-No.” She shot Meo a look. “Don’t stand up for him. He’s a good friend of yours but he’s an idiot most of the time.”

Meo looked down at Viola, running his fingers through her fur. “You’re right.”

“I am.” Rin glanced back at Y/N, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“What’s even weirder is how Harry acted, though.” Meo said, following the statement with a little breathy chuckle. “It seemed to really bother him.”

Rin frowned. “Yeah, when someone sexually harasses someone else, it bothers people.”

Meo groaned. “I didn’t mean it-“

“-Excuse Meo, Y/N, he seems to have left his brain at home today.”

Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. But,” she glanced over at Meo who was leaning down, booping his nose against Viola’s – who seemed very unsure of what to do. “Harry’s been acting strange lately. Wouldn’t have stood up for me before.”

“Oh?” Rin raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think?”

“Well,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “He wasn’t particularly nice to me in the beginning, so I don’t think he would’ve.”

“He’s not a bad person.” Rin said, making Y/N wonder how she knew that. “Just been through… a lot.”

But before Y/N got to ask Rin how she knew this, Meo started talking again. “Speaking of Harry,” he started. “Saw him yesterday.”

“Congrats,” Rin said. “You have eyes and a memory of other people.”

“Fanculo.” Meo rolled his eyes. “No, I saw him in that small alleyway off Via Roma. He was talking to this old man and he seemed very angry.”

Rin crossed her arms. “Angry in what way?”

“Is there more than one way to be angry?” Meo asked back, giving them a quick shrug. “Don’t know, he seemed annoyed, upset, and very angry.”

“Did you recognise who he was talking to?” Y/N surprised herself by asking, but neither Meo nor Rin seemed to bat an eyelash at the question. They were just as curious as she was.

“No, just know he’s Mattia’s father.” Meo explained. “But that’s irrelevant.”

“Mattia’s father is a police officer, Meo. It’s not irrelevant.” Rin brought two fingers up to her temple, clearly thinking hard. “Why would H. Styles be talking to the police?”

“Who is Mattia?” Y/N asked, looking between the two.

Rin waved her hand, dismissing Mattia entirely. “Just a guy about our age, his dad always used to come to our school to give talks on drugs and other crimes.”

“Drugs?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not saying Harry’s involved in some drug deal thing.” Rin clarified. “That’s just what Mattia’s dad did.”

Meo gasped a little. “Imagine if he’s like a drug lord.”

“In Fosdinovo? In the middle of nowhere Tuscany? Unlikely.” Rin leaned her hip against the counter, scrunching up her face as she started thinking. “None of that makes sense. I mean, if he was involved in something with the police, surely the Tuscan and Italian newspapers would know of it by now, right?”

“Unless it was a secret investigation.” Meo said, making both Rin and Y/N whip their heads in his direction. “Seems most likely, doesn’t it?”

Y/N was racking her brain for what that could mean, why Harry would need the police to look into something, and why he was talking to the police at all.

“Unless the police are corrupt, and the drug lord is bribing them to shut up about something.” Meo shrugged. “Or the police are working with him.”

“You’ve been watching too much of that Peaky Blinders and all the other gang shows you like to annoy me with.” Rin sighed, giving Y/N a little smile. “Guess it’s just going to remain a mystery.”

“Guess it is.” Y/N agreed, smiling back at Rin before she walked over to Meo and Viola. With all this new information, Y/N could simply not be around people. She needed to sit alone and think for a bit. Which was weird, because Y/N never wanted to be alone. She wanted to be around people, but this had her in need for a think. “I better be off. We have a busy day ahead of doing absolutely nothing.”

Meo chuckled, handing Viola’s lead back to Y/N. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” She waved at them both. “See you around.”

“See ya!”

And then Y/N and Viola walked out, on their way back to the flat, and the entire way, Y/N could not stop thinking about what her, Rin, and Meo had just been discussing. What was going on? What was Harry hiding? Did it have something to do with Salvatore and their feud? Or was it completely separate from that? And why was he talking to the police? Y/N’s head was spinning so fast she felt dizzy. Good thing she had her croissant to keep her sane for a little while.

Tuesday, 6 August 2019

Y/N and Rin had hung out all day. They had bumped into one another once Rin was done with her shift at the bakery, and the first thing Rin had said was “He’s working.” She then asked Y/N if she wanted to try another café for breakfast, something Y/N said she’d love to. With Viola, they strolled into the city centre where Rin showed Y/N her favourite café.

The two had a big brunch filled with delicious pasta, schiacciata, ribollita, and multiple glasses of iced coffee. They had an amazing time together, sitting there till the sun started to go down again. It was so nice to talk rubbish with someone who was just as eager to be in everyone else’s business as Y/N was. Though it was a bad trait to have – being nosey – it was so fun to meet someone just as curious about other people and their business. Rin told Y/N all the village gossip, and all the big goss that had been throughout the years. Turns out, even a small mountain town like Fosdinovo has had a few scandals through the years. The two made plans to do brunch together again another time before Y/N had to leave the following week.

On her way back to the flat, Y/N stopped by a supermarket, getting some Ritz and a Brie, figuring she didn’t need much for dinner as she’d already had a massive brunch. Viola was relaxing in her arms by the time she got home, exhausted from a day of doing nothing but walking around and eating. But walking up the staircase to her flat, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a figure leaning against the railing opposite to her front door.

She could recognise him anywhere by this point. His brown trousers, pink Converse, the tight white tee shirt, now matched with an open pale pink silk shirt, tucked loosely into his trousers along with his tee shirt. He looked over at her, and as he registered who it was, he straightened, turning his body in her direction. They both blinked for a few seconds before Y/N walked up the last flight of stairs and over to her door.

“You again.” She said, turning the keys and letting them all in. She got Viola out of her lead, putting her down on the floor.

“And the enthusiasm is out of this world.”

“Shocked really,” Y/N continued, putting the tote bag with groceries on the kitchen table before turning around again. “Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

He just looked at her, mouth shut. He pushed away from the railing, clearing his throat some. “Put the dress on, meet me downstairs.”

Just then, a small whimper could be heard, and then a loud meow. Viola jogged in Harry’s direction, just having noticed him being there. Straight past Y/N who had made her way back over to the door, right to Harry who was now hunched down, petting her. Her purring was deep, clearly enjoying Harry’s attention very much.

“Tell me,” Harry started, smiling at Viola when she jumped up, leaning her two front paws on his knee. “Do you ever give her any attention at all? ‘Cause she seems to be my biggest fan because I give it to her.”

Y/N huffed, trying to hide the smile on her face at seeing Viola and Harry bonding like this. “For your information, we cuddle every night before we go to sleep.”

“In bed?”

She couldn’t help her smile now. “You jealous?”

It was meant as a joke, but judging by the silence that followed, Y/N was afraid he might not have gotten it. Which made the whole situation very weird. Of course he wasn’t bloody jealous of a cat cuddling her in bed. What the fuck kind of question was that anyway? Her neck heated up, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment come on.

In movement so swift Y/N didn’t quite catch it, Harry picked Viola up and held her tight to his chest. His eyes met Y/N’s, mouth hanging open as he searched for the words he’d wanted to say. He nodded behind her at her flat.

“May I?”

She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do or what he meant, but she still said, “Of course.”

Stepping aside, she watched as Harry walked past her and into her flat, straight for her bed. Gently, he put Viola down in Y/N’s bed, running a hand over her back to settle her in. His other hand was pressed into her duvet, fingers spread out. The veins on the back of his hand were defined, leading up to his wrist, where other veins were visible all the way up to his elbow. Her eyes travelled further, taking in his bicep, the way his hair hung before his eyes when he stood bent like this. His hips, how round his bum looked when he wore those trousers. The way his thighs had looked when he’d been petting Viola out in the hallway. Get a fucking grip, Y/N. She shook her head, looking away from him just as he pushed away from the bed.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” He said, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder, telling her he’d be waiting outside.

Y/N just watched him leave, closing the door behind him, leaving her and Viola confused. Y/N looked back at the cat, raising her eyebrows as Viola’s eyes were still on the door, obviously missing Harry.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, Viola looking up at her companion. “I’m confused, too.”

Viola meowed.

“Okay, not confused, just…” Y/N shrugged. “Dunno. He’s changed.”

Viola just looked at Y/N, obviously not bothering to take part in a conversation she didn’t see the point of. How Y/N and Harry were feeling was as clear to her as the difference between the first and the last chapter of a book.

Y/N changed into her dress, not bothering to put her knee socks on as she knew they were going back to Lerici to finish the painting Harry started last time. She gave Viola a quick kiss to the forehead as she always did, and then she walked downstairs. As the two times they’d ridden the moped together previous, Harry handed Y/N the helmet as soon as she stepped out of the door and into the already dark night. He got on and started the engine as she put the helmet and his rucksack on, and as soon as she was comfortable on the seat behind him, they were off.

They made it to the same beach, and though the moon wasn’t as full as she had been two nights earlier, Y/N guessed it didn’t really matter. What Harry needed was to get the colours right, he already had the outline of everything by now. It was weird, Y/N thought, how she knew Harry’s methods and ways of working by this point. She knew he did outline first and colours second, often visiting a place two or three times after their first visit to get everything right. But he hadn’t needed her present in the beginning when he was colouring…

They didn’t talk. Y/N knew she was going to go stand in the sea and Harry knew where he was putting his easel. They moved with one another, knowing what the other one wanted and doing everything they could to keep the other satisfied. Y/N listened to Harry moving around behind her, mixing colours and adjusting his canvas, huffing and shuffling in the sand. The time before when she joined him on the colour-filling session, they hadn’t talked at all. Gioele came along that time, and kept the air lively with either song or conversation, trying to talk to Harry about something Harry never really seemed interested in. But now they were alone, and silence stretched out between them. Neither were in a hurry to say something. So, when Harry suddenly cleared his throat, Y/N almost jumped a little.

“I thought about what you said the other day.” He admitted.

Y/N blinked a few times, looking to the rocks on her left as she spoke. “What was that?”

“In order to properly make a connection with someone I’ve gotta open up to people.”

She nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Yeah?”

“And uhh…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words to say next. “I don’t… I don’t know how to say this.”

This made her look over her shoulder at him, needing to know that he was alright. He seemed to be, painting with a slight wrinkle between his brows. “Saying anything at all is good, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“I know, but…” He met her eyes, mouth hanging open for a few moments. He looked back at the painting. “My parents always favoured my sister. They didn’t have to say the word, I always knew they liked her better than me. Maybe because she was the firstborn, maybe because she’s always been amazing at everything she’s ever done.” He took a deep breath. “I never hated them for it, I kind of got used to it… being their second choice. My nannies were better parents than them.”

It hurt hearing Harry say that; that he had been his parents’ second choice all his life. Reminded Y/N of how she’d felt growing up as well; Portia being in the spotlight all the time, Y/N always in second place. It got to the point where she just had to get used to it. Not that she wanted to be the second one in line, but it just simply was that way and there was nothing she could do about it. Her father left and since then, her mother had leaned on Portia for support and Y/N to carry them both. Harry knew how that felt.

“When I started getting bigger as a painter, when I could do this and only this, I decided that living in Manchester wasn’t it.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, studying the painting. “It reminded me of a life I didn’t feel good enough. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel like I was enough. ‘Cause I am. Took me some time to realise that I was. I knew I could only become the best version of myself if I was away from Manchester for a little while.”

A gust of wind blew past Y/N, she had to hold the dress in place, still watching Harry. He was quiet for a few seconds as he looked at her, but he quickly looked away and started painting again.

“Moved here… and…” he stood still, the topic at hand evoked so many emotions in him that it seemed he had a hard time using his words right. “And I… I wasn’t enough here either. But…” he cleared his throat. “I need to finish this collection here and everything. Can’t move before I have.”

Y/N thought back to the time Harry said he didn’t want to move, that he liked living here. He clearly did not. And her entire chest hurt at the revelation.

“The collection’s what’s keeping me here,” he admitted. “Not free will.”

Y/N looked at the reflection of the moon in the water, aching for the hurt Harry felt. She could still hear it in his voice.

“So, not only am I everyone’s second choice, but I have to stay here for another month without-“ he abruptly stopped himself, eyes falling to the sand underneath his bare feet. For a few seconds, no one moved, and when Harry’s eyes met hers, nothing else mattered. Y/N felt dizzy, her chest tingling; almost like she was drunk. “Without a friend.”

She felt herself panic, the realisation that she was leaving the following week hit her like a ton of bricks. For some reason, she had to talk; had to keep the conversation going. Harry didn’t look away from her as Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, not knowing that she was getting dizzy trying to find something to say.

“You’ll always have the moon.” Brill, you’ve done it now, she thought to herself.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“The moon’s always gonna be there. You can talk to her all you need.”

He huffed, blinking twice before saying, “That right?”

Y/N nodded, not having thought she’d get into this today, but seemingly, she had to now. “My mum’s obsessed with space. The reason why she named me and my sister after planets and all that, you know this.” She waved her hands around, dismissing going into detail about that exact subject. “Anyway, she always used to tell us that if we were ever in need to talk to someone and no one we knew could help, the moon would always listen. There were often times when I was little when I knew my mum couldn’t help, so I’d sit by my open window in the middle of cold winter and pour my heart out to the moon.”

The hint of a joke that had been in Harry’s eyes when Y/N started her talk of the moon, was gone. He seemed to know where this was going.

“My mum…” Y/N’s eyes fell to a spot in the sand beside Harry’s feet. “She was never able to help. And if she was, I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it.”

Harry’s arm fell to his side.

“It’s not that mum doesn’t love me, because she really does, I know she does, but…” she shrugged. “I’ve just always been able to tell that she liked my little sister more. Thought she had more potential, and all that.”

Y/N looked up at Harry again, seeing the head of his brow upturned.

“People have no control over their emotions, so I don’t blame mum, but I wish she’d paid more attention to me.” Y/N admitted, turning back to the moon. “That way the moon wouldn’t know all my secrets.”

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her back as she walked further out, laying her palms flat against the surface of the sea, the hem of her skirt floating in the ocean.

“But I can’t have been the only one spilling all my troubles to her, right?” Y/N tried to reason, not wanting Harry to think she was insane. “Think about how many secrets she’s gotta hold, and not just ones told to her like mine, but others as well. All those untold ones people hold close until night when they spill their hearts to the moon, all the truths, lost opportunities, the endless sea of chances. She’s gotta know everything, more than the sun could ever hope to. Forbidden acts all happen at night, don’t they?”

Y/N turned around, meeting Harry’s eyes. His lips were parted, blinking a few times as he stumbled out of his reverie when he saw her turning around.

“I’m truly sorry about your family. You’re no one’s second choice.”

Harry shook his had some, placing a hand on his tummy, hooking his thumb at the top of his trousers. “You haven’t met my family, though.”

“They don’t deserve you if they’ve made you feel that way.” Y/N said. “You’ve got other people who you’re never going to be second choice to.”

Harry just looked at her, speechless.

“And aren’t Jamie going to stay here till the end of summer? Right before you’re leaving for your little tour? Your friend’s gonna stay here the whole time with you.”

Harry blinked. “My… my friend?”

Y/N nodded, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side before looking ahead at the moon again. “Yeah, you said you’d stay here for another month without a friend.”

Harry looked away, eyes falling to the palette in his hand before he tipped his brush in it. A small, “Yeah, you’re right,” left his lips.

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe.”

“’Cause the moon is always there.”

Y/N smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “She’ll always listen.”

There was a small pause. “What about you?”

Y/N frowned. “What about me?”

The waves crashed softly against shore, there didn’t seem to be another sound in the entire world but that just then.

“Harry?”

He was quiet. And though Y/N didn’t want to interrupt him in case a sudden creative urge had hit him, he had still asked her a question she hadn’t understood, and she therefore wanted an answer.

“You alright?”

But he still didn’t say anything. Just as she was about to look over her shoulder at him to make sure he was alright; she heard the splashing of water and then felt a lot of it on her face. She yelped, jumping a bit, unsure what had just happened till she saw it. Harry rose from the dark ocean, shaking his head to get most of the water out of his curls. Harry had come out into the sea with her. Fully clothed. Y/N couldn’t help her laughter, too caught off guard to do anything else.

“What the fuck?”

“’What the fuck’?” Harry said, turning around to face her, whipping some of his curls out of his face. “You told me to come out into the water a few days ago, and now you’re shocked?”

Y/N smiled at him, raising her eyebrows a tad, realising she was holding both hands to her chest and feeling her heart hammering fast against her ribcage. “You also said you didn’t like the dark, and that the water was too dark for you to take a swim in.”

“But you said to live a little and that not seeing the bottom ‘cause it’s too dark wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

He… he remembered what she’d told him? He’d taken her words to heart? Every single part of Y/N was tingling to the point of tickling her a bit. “And now you’re in the water.”

Harry huffed, water to just below his shoulders. Y/N walked a bit closer to him, finding the ocean a little too cold to be comfortable. “Don’t get used to me trying out the things you suggest I do.”

She bit her lips together. “Of course.”

He just stared at her, noticing her piss take but not bothering to point it out or tell her to fuck off for it. Instead, he took a step further back, letting more of the sea envelope him. “Well,” he said, nodding toward Y/N. “If I’m gonna be swimming, you’re going to as well.”

“Jesus Christ.” She mumbled, balling her hands together into fists and as fast as she could, walked further out into the sea. The cold water hurt against her warm skin, but she did her best not to let it show. When the water reached her shoulders, standing a metre or two away from Harry still, she looked at him. “Happy?”

“Get your hair wet.”

She clicked her tongue, raising her eyebrows. “Why are you so bossy?”

“Why do you suddenly care if your hair is wet or not? You didn’t last time.” He pointed out, raising his eyebrows back at her. “Besides, my hair is wet so yours needs to be too.”

Y/N only rolled her eyes but did as he wished. Getting her entire head under water, she made sure all of her hair was wet, opening her eyes to see if she could see Harry underwater. But when she opened them, she saw him taking a few steps closer till he was just in front of her. Immediately, her heart started racing. She stood, getting the water out of her eyes before looking at him. He was right there, right in front of her. The white light of the moon washed over half of his face, and though she couldn’t make out all his features, he looked so incredibly beautiful in that moment. She was afraid to look away; afraid what would happen if she did.

“What about you?” he asked again, voice low like a mumble.

Y/N hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was hammering, how every nerve in her entire body was on high alert, how every cell was screaming for him to get closer. “What about me?”

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe. The moon is always there.” He said, eyes searching her face. “What about you?”

She took a little breath. “I…” she stopped, able to feel the tip of his shoes against her bare feet as he took a small step forward. She could smell him. Neroli and rose mixed with incense and musk. “Will I always be there?”

He just looked at her, clearly thinking that his look was answer enough. And it was. Because in the small way he cocked his head, how his eyes fell so quickly to her lips and back up to her eyes again, the way she saw him take a hug inhale. She saw his answer in all of it.

“I’m… I’m leaving.”

“But if you could?” he urged, sounding desperate.

“But I can’t.”

“But if you could…”

Though the water moved around them, the world seemed to be completely still as they stood there. It would always be night, it would always be them, it would always be this. The uncertainty laced with a kind of certainty neither had the vocabulary to word correctly. She couldn’t take a step closer to Harry as they were already standing so close, but she needed to take a step closer to be closer. She needed to be close to him. Needed to melt into him.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, heart hammering so fast and so hard that it was weird her voice wasn’t shaking with it. He opened his mouth slowly; inhaling, exhaling.

“The planet Venus…” he mumbled, letting the three words hang in the air around them. She barely noticed how his eyes fell to her lips for a split second before they looked up into hers again. Fires ran up her spine. “Is the second brightest  natural object in the sky, right after the sun. Referred to as ‘the morning star’ or ‘the evening star’. Visible for a little while, only hours before or after sunrise or sunset. You have to really be looking for her to find her.”

“What are you-“

“-In 2019, she was only visible in the mornings until July, then she disappeared behind the sun. She’s going to reappear in September, then she’s going to be visible in the mornings again.” He paused, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips. “She’s the brightest star in the solar system.”

Y/N didn’t know how she was still standing, neither did she know what any of that meant, why he chose to tell her this. He must’ve known that her mother had told her everything about the planet she was named after, but here he was… And she didn’t mind him saying this at all. But it did raise the question-

“How do you know all this?” she asked, blinking a few times to get a droplet from the sea off her eyelashes. “Why do you know all this?”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes shifting between her two, not knowing where to focus. “Because…” his voice was barely audible, but all of Y/N’s senses were tuned in on him. She could’ve heard him if his voice was merely a whisper and the world was collapsing around them. He stilled, fixating on her and nothing else. “I’d stay up only to get a small glimpse of you.”

And just like that, the entirety of the universe stopped turning; like a painting, a superlative moment in time, the perfect depiction of the perfect moment in what had been till now a mediocre lifetime. Everything had conspired and waited for this exact moment, lit up by the moon that knew all of their secrets and most hidden desires. Just then, the colours around got a little brighter, hearing a little better, and it was easier to breathe. Everything had led to this.

She saw Harry daring a look at her lips again, and she couldn’t help but stare at his as well. So pink, so pretty. She saw his lips part, felt his breath against her wet skin, and when she looked up, she realised he’d been waiting for her to make eye contact. He was waiting for a response. But what was she supposed to say? That she found herself dreaming of him most nights and it was hard to act normal around him the next day? That the dreams were vivid and she felt him touch her, kiss her hand, her arm, her jaw, her cheek? That she’d had a small crush on him for weeks now, even when he’d treated her like shit, because somewhere deep down, she’d known he was different? How did she tell him she’d been right, and she didn’t know how? That she admired him for a ton of reasons, but mostly for his willingness to change when he was wrong? How did she tell him that she thought he’d never be interested in her, but now that he admitted to it, her feelings had blossomed to life like a field of flowers after a shower of rain in summer?

Something took over and she reached forward, taking a light grip of his neck, bringing him toward her. They kissed. It was soft, positioning a little off, but the impact was like a meteor striking earth. Harry didn’t hesitate, he placed a gentle hand to her cheek and another one on her shoulder, slowly sliding it up to rest at her neck. Her entire body seemed to change in a way as her skin made contact with his again. Their cells intermingled; bodies connected in a way they’d never felt before. Something inside urged them to feel more, do more, melt into one another. Gently, Harry guided her lips wider open, carefully asking permission for his tongue to enter her mouth. She opened up to him, exhaling against his cheek as she felt his tongue along hers.

She did a small jump, hooking her legs around his waist so they didn’t need to bend awkwardly to be with one another. He didn’t seem taken off guard at all, rather welcoming her embrace by letting one his hands rest at her thigh and the other at her neck. It seemed to never end, like they could stand there kissing in the water, in the light of the white moon, till everything ceased to exist anymore. The kissing didn’t grow hungry or lustful, they just wanted to be close, wanted to feel the other there and know they were together. They wanted to be connected, wanted to melt together and never leave.

Out of breath, Y/N pulled away slightly, needing to breathe properly for a few moments. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry staring right back at her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over how beautiful he was, how good he tasted, how good he smelled, felt, was. He leaned forward, kissing her temple before leaning his forehead against hers. She breathed him in before seeking his lips again. And it was like Harry told her; you fall in love, and it’s the beginning and the end of everything.

Thursday, 8 August 2019

Y/N looked at herself in the body-length mirror in her flat, taking in her outfit for La Serenata. A midi wrap dress with volume sleeves, flowers in white, mustard, red, green, and black covering all of it. She put on a pair of small hoop earrings, a light layer of make-up, and thinking herself ready after. Viola was on her bed, watching all of it, giving her small meows or pointed stares of approval or disapproval if Y/N ever asked her opinion on something.

She made sure Viola had enough to eat, that a window was open, and that everything else was ready for the little child to be home alone. Though Viola rarely did anything stupid, Y/N was aware that one time would have to be the first, and she didn’t want anything to happen in the last week she was spending with the wee cat. Giving Viola a kiss to the forehead as she always did, Y/N got her small purse with everything she needed, and headed out.

It was getting dark, the sun was about to set, the orange and dotted purple sky above about to paint itself a vibrant pink before covering itself in the blanket of night. Y/N could make out a few others on their way to the La Serenata, dressed nicely for the occasion and talking loudly amongst themselves. She smiled a little, finding it adorable how the entire village was gathering in order to be part of this. She walked up the hill, along the streets she remembered from two nights before when Harry had showed her where to walk. Before driving her home, he’d driven her all the way to Via Papiriana, which wasn’t too far away from her flat. Not that anything within the borders of Fosdinovo was far from one another. She walked the exact way, holding onto the strap of her purse and urging her the heels of her shoes not to get stuck in between any cobblestones. She didn’t want to be late.

She saw Via Papiriana as she rounded a corner, and immediately recognised the figure standing there leaning against the brick out. A smile graced her lips instantly. He was wearing a white jacquard shirt with ruffled front, tucked into a pair of charcoal grey heritage check trousers, and a jacket to match. He looked as amazing as he always did, but the ruffles on his shirt made him look almost royal. Like there was no doubt he was better than everyone else.

He looked up as she came closer, as if he sensed her there, and his eyes quickly scanned her figure. Pushing off the wall, he turned his body in her direction, giving her the tiniest of smiles. One it was evident he couldn’t help.

“Hi.” She said, grinning at him.

“Hi.” He answered, smile widening a tad.

After the session two days prior, they hadn’t met one another. Harry had been busy the day before, and Y/N had done absolutely nothing. She knew she needed to do stuff now that she only had one week left in Italy, but she couldn’t bring herself to. All she thought about was Harry; she wanted to be with him every single second of every single day. Harry drove her home after their session in Lerici, apologised for not being able to see her the following day, and promised to meet her at Via Papiriana for the Serenata. After that kiss in the ocean, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else. He was all her mind was able to focus on it seemed. And though she didn’t mind, she knew she shouldn’t. They lived two completely different lives and outside this chance situation they found themselves in this summer, they could never be together.

She couldn’t think about that now, though. Instead she nodded her head at Via Papiriana and Harry nodded back, showing her the way. There was a crowd of people further down the road, loud voices and laughter filling the tiny street. People who lived on the street were watching through their opened windows, a group stood on a balcony not far off, others stood in their open doorways, handing out glasses of what Y/N could only assume to be alcohol of some kind. They made a little party out of the La Serenata, and Y/N loved it. The Italian culture she had been lucky enough to experience this summer had blown her away and she was beyond sad she had to leave it all behind soon. She had no idea when she would next visit this breath-taking country in southern Europe that she had grown so immensely fond of.

As Y/N and Harry got close, people started hushing one another, all attention pointed at the middle of the crowd. Someone started playing a few chords on a guitar, and it sounded so beautiful already that Y/N felt herself press a hand to her beating heart.

“Al di la; del bene piu prezioso, ci sei tu.” Someone sang, voice dark and smooth.

And just as the song started, a huge mess of curls poked its head out of the window the crowd stood before. Y/N instantly recognised the woman as Carina, Rin, Meo, and Salvatore’s friend who had left the pub the week before. She looked so beautiful smiling down at her fiancé, admiring her future husband. Y/N was suddenly so happy for Carina, not having known she was the one getting married. The thought of someone so kind marrying the love of her life, made Y/N look forward to the following day when she would be attending her first and only Italian wedding.

“Al di la; ci sei tu per me, per me, soltanto per me.”

Y/N could swear she recognised that voice, though. Walking closer to the crowd, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of the man serenading Carina. She felt Harry following her, seeming a little hesitant as if he already knew what was happening before them. And as Y/N’s eyes fell on the serenader, she stopped completely. It couldn’t be… But it was…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She whispered to herself, feeling Harry glance down at her, having seen what she’d just seen.

With his dark hair drawn back, dressed in a dark blue suit and looking up at Carina with those charming brown eyes of his, Salvatore stood holding the guitar and singing in the middle of the crowd. He was smiling, completely oblivious to Y/N and Harry attending the Serenata. Even if he had known they would be there, he’d probably be smirking either way, probably loving the dramatics of it all. He was quite theatrical.

Despite everything, Y/N felt tears press on. She hadn’t liked Salvatore much after what happened, but regardless, he had made her feel special. He had taken her on walks along Fosdinovo, made her look forward to her trip to the bakery every morning so she’d see him, made her summer in some way. And all this time, he was engaged. All the flirting, all the touching, all the promises, had been while he was waiting to get married. All those times when he hadn’t been at work, he must’ve been busy with Carina preparing their wedding. Had he used her? Why had he tried to make her fall in love with him? Why had it worked to an extent? Her entire body ached. She was so dumb. So fucking dumb for falling for his stupid, charming act.

She heard Harry breathing heavily through his nose, saw him glaring at both Salvatore and Carina. There was so much hatred in that look that it made Y/N take a small step back. Something had gone down before she arrived, but in that moment, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care too much about that. Because the guy she’d had a crush on at the beginning of the summer had flirted and asked her out while he was engaged; while he was in a relationship with another.

The song was done and the crowd cheered. Y/N didn’t care to see Carina lowering the basket or to see what happened after that, didn’t care to be part of the festivities; she didn’t care about any of that. All she wanted, all she needed, was to get away from that fucking street and the bloody twat singing on it.

Rounding the corner onto the main road, she heard a set of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know they were Harry’s. She had to put the entire La Serenata behind her, had to forget about Salvatore, had to forget about bigger parts of her summer spent here. It all hit a little too close to home, made her think of a time before that she tried to suppress. Certain memories were better left forgotten, or so washed away that they didn’t make you feel anything anymore. But memories were there for a reason, and some made you feel so much that it numbed you; it stole your senses and occupied all of you till it tore you apart anew. No one knew how badly it hurt. No one but you.

Harry didn’t try to stop her or talk to her. He understood that she didn’t need that. He understood that what she needed right now was to know that someone was there, that if she desired, he was there for her. Though she wasn’t a big fan of silence, she appreciated how quiet Harry was just then. Truly admired his ability to save his words for occasions when he needed to use them, and not just using them to fill a silence that did fine on its own.

They reached Y/N’s building, where both stopped outside her door. Slowly, she opened her purse and got her keys out, staring off into nothing. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to feel; and what she was feeling, she felt stupid for.

“Do you wanna be alone?”

His voice felt like a warm embrace; like someone understood her for the first time in what must’ve been her entire existence. She looked at him, seeing genuine concern in his eyes. Though she had mates back home that would be worried for her, a sister that would as well, no one had ever looked at her like this before. She felt seen; cared for.

A single tear ran down her cheek as she gave him a tiny smile, shaking her head. “No.”

The hurt in Harry’s eyes worsened. She could tell he wanted to take a step toward her and comfort her, but stopped himself, not knowing what would be too much.

“I never want to be,” she said, not able to hold back. “I just am.”

“You’re not.”

She bit her bottom lip as she felt it start to wobble, feeling so many warm and lovely emotions run through her entire body. It was such a contrast to what she’d just felt after the Serenata that it made her hurt in the best way possible. Noticing this, Harry took her hand in his, carefully taking the key and unlocking the door. He held it open for her, watching her walk inside before he gave her the keys back. She walked first up and through the door to her flat, leaving the door open for Harry to follow.

Viola was sleeping on a kitchen chair, one of the windows were open, the sheer curtains swaying with the wind blowing. Y/N took her shoes off, putting her purse on the kitchen table before she went to open the other window on the other side of the bed. In the darkness of the night, Y/N leaned both her hands on the window frame, looking out over the countryside. She would leave this soon. And though that thought made her happy after what had just happened, it almost made her sad because she would be leaving the person who had followed her all the way home to make sure she was alright.

“When I was around 19, I met Noah.” Y/N started, not taking her eyes off the landscape before her. “He was the first person I ever fell in love with. Made me feel things no one had ever done before, and it was just… it was all I had ever wanted. I didn’t think anyone would ever fancy me like that, in a romantic or sexual way.”

She heard Harry moving behind her, taking his suit jacket off.

“I could tell he fancied me, but… he was embarrassed to.” She said, trying not to let her voice break. “He didn’t want to introduce me to his family or to his friends, didn’t want to be seen with me in public.”

Harry took his shoes off, not taking his eyes off her when she paused for a few seconds. Silent tears rolled down her face.

“No one ever says anything about the emotional struggles of being fat,” she said. “They only highlight the physical part of it, but never the emotional one. How no one’s ever going to want you because of your body. You’re aware your personality’s fine, but your body’s gross so you hide behind your humour, big clothes, and try to fake your confidence in order for people to go ‘she’s so confident, so cool, it’s so inspiring to see someone like her be so confident’.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “And the need to hide your body because everyone who sees you have already got this designed and premeditated idea of what your life is like. Eating tons of unhealthy foods, being lazy, or having health problems. So whenever anyone even looks at you, you know what they’re thinking already. You’re this walking, talking joke and everyone who isn’t in on it is having a laugh, but you’re not. You have to get used to the fact that people are gonna want to give you advice on your health, and it won’t fucking work ‘cause you’ve heard them hundreds of times before, and it’s all just an endless spiral of ‘will I ever be pretty if I’m fat?’ and ‘what’s the fucking point if I’m just going to be fat and judged for the rest of my life?’.”

She took a shaky breath, feeling Harry behind her.

“But when you just have to get used to the fact that you’re never going to be as skinny or as pretty as you want to be. You’re always going to want more. So, for your own mental and physical and spiritual health, you have to tell yourself you’re good enough. Because you are. You need to be. What good is life going to be if you’re never good enough? You’re never going to be happy. You need to be happy ‘cause the only way you can be is if you yourself change it for yourself only. You’re going to be stuck with yourself your whole life. You’re your own soulmate before you’re anyone else’s.”

Y/N took a deep breath before she looked over her shoulder at Harry. He stood beside the end of her bed, looking at her like everything she was saying was the most important piece of information he’d ever hear.

“Salvatore did the same, didn’t he? Wanted to see how hard he could make the fat person fall in love with him?”

Harry shook his head, walking over to her. “No.”

She frowned.

He took her hand, looking down on it. “That wasn’t it.”

“What was it then?”

Harry met her eyes. “Not tonight.”

“Then when?

“Tomorrow morning.”

Y/N frowned.

“Tonight I want to show you that no matter what you felt for Noah, no matter what you felt for Salvatore, it doesn’t matter.” Harry rested a hand at her cheek and she instantly leaned into him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I thought so the moment I first saw you standing beneath my balcony in early July, and you further proved that as summer went on.”

Y/N couldn’t help the tears forming in her eyes.

“The fact that people has ever made you feel like you’re not makes me angrier than I think you’ll ever know.”

She huffed.

“What?”

“You’re always angry.”

Harry smiled. “Because you piss me off.”

She smiled back, a tear falling from her eye and onto his hand. Harry ran his thumb over her bottom lip, looking at it as he did.

“You’re the brightest star in the solar system, Y/N.” Harry said, voice sounding like a whisper. “That’s not just me saying that, it’s actual facts. It’s on the Internet and everything.”

She laughed, and Harry smiled down at her.

“No one could outshine you.”

She looked at him for a few seconds before she leaned forward and kissed him again. This time around, it wasn’t as soft; it was urgent. She wanted to taste him, wanted to show him how much she appreciated him. Their tongues tangled, hungry for one another in a way they had never been hungry for anyone ever before. His grip on her tightened and he pressed her to him, wanting to feel every curve of her body. To feel the soft skin and the soft spots no one else got to see.

He walked her to her bed, letting her lay down comfortably before he followed her. Making his way up, he ran each hand up her legs, dragging her dress with him till it was at her waist. He nestled between her thighs, urging her to spread her legs a little wider for him as he lowered himself. She watched him, not able to believe that he was really here, in her bed, with a promise to make her understand that whatever she’d ever felt for someone else than him didn’t matter. When he kissed her again, she tasted the entire universe on his tongue and felt it between her thighs. He ran both hands over her cheeks, thumb caressing her tenderly, promising to never mistreat her.

The kisses deepened and Y/N hooked her legs with his, not wanting to ever let him go. It felt too good being like this with him; felt so incredibly right. Her hands roamed his body, wanting to get a good feel of all of him. She wanted to remember every single little piece of him, wanted to feel and smell him on her hands. The excitement of feeling Harry against her centre, of tasting him like this, feeling his hands on her body, it all got to her. A heat started gathering between her legs, aching and begging to be touched by him. She started moving in desperation, feeling Harry breathe harshly against her cheek as she did. He clearly felt her movements just as well as she felt his.

His right hand slid down, over her tits, tummy, and down to that spot between her legs that was waiting for him. He put his middle finger just above her hole, and so excruciatingly slowly as he possibly could, ran it up along her knickers. She gripped his hair a little harder, kissing him a little fiercer, the need for him too great to handle gracefully. With two fingers this time and a little more pressure, he dragged them above her, halting a little when he got a small moan out of her. He pulled away ever so slightly, looking down on her.

“Foreplay,” Harry said, lips moving against hers as they both panted. “How do you feel about it?”

“With my zero patience?” she raised her eyebrows a little, butterflies in her tummy fluttering their wings wildly as Harry smiled down at her. “Overrated.”

“Good.” He said, hooking his fingers through the band of her underwear. “I’m not a fan either.”

She bit her lip, looking at him as he adjusted himself between her legs.

“’Cause I’ve thought about eating you out for quite a while now. So I say fuck foreplay,” he pushed off, sitting up on his knees. “And if you’ll allow me,” he hooked his other hand through the other side of her knickers. “I’d like to make you feel really fucking good.”

“Ambitious.”

He smiled a little, tugging at her underwear. She lifted her hips, letting him take it off her, something he did gracefully. She lifted the skirt of her dress, letting him get better access. Harry looked at her centre, then up at her again, and something in the way he glanced at her made ever single cell in her body sing. She could make out the outline of his erection against his trousers, but he didn’t seem to care much about himself. All he wanted and cared about was for her to feel good. He got the ruffles of his shirt out of the way and positioned himself before her. They didn’t look away from each other as Harry kissed the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of wet spots all the way down to her centre. He kissed her folds, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Watch me.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around her thighs. “Don’t look away.”

She opened her eyes just in time to see him run his tongue over her. His tongue traced a deliciously wet line between her already wet folds. Y/N bit her lip, loving the feeling of Harry’s hot tongue on her like this. Just there to make her feel – as he’d put it himself – really fucking good. The immediate pleasure of Harry eating her out took over her entire being right away. She didn’t know if her toes were freezing cold or if her back was itching. All that mattered, all she could focus on, was Harry and his delicious tongue exactly where they needed to be. She took tight grips of the duvet beneath her, needing something to hold onto, telling herself not to shut her eyes, no matter how good he made her feel. With elegant movements, Harry let his tongue glide up and down, swirling blissfully around her clit while laying some extra pressure there, seeing what got a reaction out of her and what didn’t. His right arm came to lay on her stomach, holding her still in case she started moving with her oncoming climax. A shaky breath left her lips, and then a soft moan, the overwhelming feeling of Harry’s tongue on her cunt took over everything she knew bit by bit.

The entire night before this was gone. Nothing but this mattered. Harry was here, admitting to having wanted to eat her out for a while, which made her feel so much all at once. How long had he? And he said he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, ever since the day he first saw her. So he’d always thought so? He’d always found her beautiful? The mere thought of Harry, the most stunning man she’d ever met, finding her beautiful, sent a whole lot of tingles through her entire body. All of this was too good to be true.

Harry buried his tongue in Y/N’s cunt in his eagerness to please her, running his tongue flat and hard against her, teasing her with an extra flick as he reached her bud. A louder moan escaped her, and her nail scraped against the material of the duvet. Mimicking the same movement to get the same reaction out of her, he watched her eagerly, not breaking eye contact once. It was hard to see straight, think straight, or act at all with grace when Harry made her feel like this. The heat between her thighs was building and she knew she’d come soon.

“Harry.” She moaned, blinking a few times as the pleasure rose.

Tilting his head to the left, Harry started focusing mainly on her clit. With quick deliberate movements, Harry’s tongue flicked dangerously fast over her hyper-sensitive spot. One of her hands immediately came to rest in his hair. She needed to hold onto him, needed to feel him bobbing his head along with his movements. Harry moaned into her as she did, causing her to gasp with the vibrations. The burn that was building up in her core was starting to get so intense she felt like she was about to burn up entirely.

Harry shifted, moving his hand to rest between her folds with his tongue. He pushed two fingers into her, moving them along with tongue. She gasped, the bubble of pleasure that had built up so intense she knew it would burst soon. Harry started sucking on her bud, pounding his fingers in and out of her, looking at her still, silently telling her not to look away from him. The filthy sounds of Harry’s sucking and the wet sounds of her cunt were too much. He moaned into her, and it sent her over the edge. A string of whimpers and moans that sounded like his name and ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘don’t stop’. Her thighs twitched and the hold on Harry’s hair tightened as the bubble of pleasure burst, lashing through her like a whip of intense bliss, showering her in the most heavenly of sensations a human can ever think of experiencing. Her back arched, and Harry did everything he could to keep her still, moving her through her orgasm. Her legs were shaking and she was moaning his name and Harry was moaning against her cunt, sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire body that made her jump a little at the notion.

Breathing heavily, she fell back against her pillows. Harry moved up to her, booping his nose against hers. She smiled.

“Don’t leave.” She whispered, and he didn’t.

NEXT UPDATE: 19 January 2020, 9PM GMT

a thanks to my lovely betas!

💙 @aileenacoustic​ 💙 @emotionally-imbruised​ 💙 @fromyourstrulyh​ 💙 @toolazymyguy​ 💙 @tasteslikestrawberriesharry​  💙

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year. 

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

#mun #admin #mun speaks #admin speaks #update #blog update #personal #text post #tw #trigger warning #mental health #depression #tw suidice #tw depression #tw mental health #tw murder #tw murder details #tw trichotillomania #trichotillomania #anxiety #tw anxiety #tw anxiety tick #anxiety tick #anxiety tick relapse #tw r*pe #r*pe mention #bullying #tw bullying

[chaoticspacefam]

2020 In Review: Wordcount Tag

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch​ , thank you! I’m not sure who’s already done or been tagged for this cause I am, once again, late to the party LOL but I shall (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done it!) tag: @rainofaugustsith​ , @darth-bagel​ , @thatmmolesbian​ , @thelastenvoyyy​ and anybody else who wants to do this. Yes, I promise I mean you!

Words: 45,314

Published: 0 (I’m not counting the couple of Six Sentence tags I’ve gotten, they’re snippets of an unfinished piece & are included below instead :), or roleplay replies, cause that feels like cheating lol.) I actually wrote a lot more than I thought I had, this is a rough guesstimate as well, as my oneshot WIPs tend to be all over the place across something like 6 different documents, some of which have existed since 2018, so I had to guess at how far up to count from the end for some of them, but I think it’s a fair guesstimate XD I also have included lore/worldbuilding docs in this because that was a 3-month long Lockdown 1.0 Boredom/”Canon is a trash fire so I’m ignoring that and making up my own lore” passion project and I’m goddamn proud of how much I wrote for that. It’s the most I’ve written in one stretch (think I finished it over a span of 3 nights or so, once I’d done all the research and made all the notes ofc ^^)

Not Published: 45,314

The Breakdown:

swtor - 45,314

for creeping shadows (my main longfic/part one of the subterfugeverse series) - 1,553  - Aria, stop being difficult! *shakes fists* XD

oneshots - 16,223

lore/worldbuilding (for subterfugeverse naturally) - 23,001 (is this ALL tomato alien lore? pretty much, yes, yes it is :’D ~400 words is “the WIP reworked timeline to correlate my worldbuilding with the canon timeline that was released”, but 98% is just...me thinking way too much about Purebloods and how they deserved way better goddamn lore. I blame @fluffynexu ‘s amazing tomato worldbuilding posts,  reading them when I went looking for “canon” lore one day for the rp is what got me started down that rabbithole (it’s awesome and if you haven’t already you should totally go check hers out too :DD), I had a “fuck you then canon I’ll do it myself too >:L” moment and once I started I couldn’t stop until I’d crapped out literally over 20k words on the subject *whispering* thank you LOL)

zephyrverse au bonus oneshots - 4,537 (stuff I wrote to fill in time gaps or “just cause I had a plot bunny”, relating to mine and k-christine’s zephyrverse au rp. None of these will likely be posted publicly, but they still deserve to be counted as words I wrote this year :’D

As you can see, most of my “muse” this year came from sporadic oneshots :’D The Ahaszaai twins also properly plot-bunnied their way into my brain in late 2019 and haven’t stopped making a nuisance of themselves the whole fucking year. Every time I tried to carry on with a chapter, one of the two of them would pop up like “Nooo write about ME! pay attention to ME!” - Yes, Ni’kasi, I will get to you this year, I promise XD

New Things I Tried:

Just Writing. Not worrying about whether “it wasn’t part of the next chapter” or “it comes from a part in the story that I’m nowhere near close to posting yet”. If I felt like writing something, or for a specific pairing/feeling/scene, whatever. I wrote until I ran outta muse juice. Yeah, it meant I didn’t technically “finish” anything this year BUT - the important thing is I wrote stuff. and that’s all that really matters, eh? :’D

Polyam ships! May not seem like a big deal but I spent a long time talking myself out of them because of internalised toxic monogamy and finally saying “you know what, fuck it! I can ship three or more people together and it can still be a perfectly wholesome, healthy and loving relationship and that’s okay” was a BIG thing for me this year.

Dialogue Scripts: which I didn’t count as wordcount because really it’s just word vomit of general tone/inflection and dialogue that I came up with right before falling asleep which I didn’t want to lose. Basically, if an exchange or a particularly punchy or moving line of dialogue popped into my brain but I wasn’t ready to write the whole scene that it fit into out, but didn’t want to forget the line(s). I wrote it out in movie script/script-style roleplay fashion e.g. Character’s Name: (emotion, hand gestures etc.) [Dialogue here] and so on. I know this is probably a well known trick of the trade, but I never took it seriously until this year. Seriously, do it. It’s great.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

Hmmm, a snippet for Andronikos/Ni’kasi that I started this week which isn’t posted yet (saving it for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday so look out for it! :D) was pretty fun to work on, I love their dynamic and Kas is suprisingly fun to write for.

Also the Aria/Vano proposal scene that I posted a snippet for the week before last. I’m having great fun with that scene, and I really enjoy putting a non-serious spin on the classic “proposal scene” tropes. Can’t wait to finish it, though it may be a while before the full one goes up on AO3, as it depends whether it ends up fitting in as part of the mainfic or as an additional oneshot

And I have a D’leah/Kissai oneshot that I need to give another once-over before I finally yeet it onto AO3 and Tumblr for you guys to see :’D

Favorite Fic I Read:

@sleepswithvillains Eleanora/Quinn fic, Helplessly Hoping. I’m horribly behind on chapters and I gotta catch up and read the finale this week, but it’s been a helluva great ride and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the story! <3

Also The Invitation collab with @tishinada featuring Zas and Fiona had me squealing, I can’t wait to catch up on HH and see more of these two, they’re adorable ;-; @a-muirehen​ ‘s Relu/Merkara series of course! I’m a complete sucker for (friends to lovers to in Ariano’s case but yea pfpfpf) enemies to lovers ships and these two are just so good, I am on the edge of my seat every time we get a new snippet for them, ngl (grimace emoji) @darth-bagel ‘s Sylvas/Graz’zt and Sylvas/Liz/Rilfaen snippets which they’ve been spoiling me with on Discord @mercurypilgrim ‘s Ven’fir/Quinn AU oneshots, Cloudbank (Western was a particular favourite, but all are very good!) and of course @rainofaugustsith ‘s Lana/Viri updates are always fantastic, some personal favourites from this year were Almost There & Memory of Healing :3 (I totally still go back to read Commander & Advisor too sometimes, getting to see Viri be a little diabolical and messing with “MiNiSTeR LoRMaN!” was and still is my favourite thing XD)

If I’ve left you out I’m sorry!! These were the ones that stuck out in my memory, but I’ve loved everyone’s writing this year, it’s been great :3

Writing Goals:

to actually finish and post chapter 8 & 9 of Creeping Shadows. Then we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of the story and maybe Aria will stop being a brat and fighting me every time I try to stick to a semi-regular update schedule Get off my butt, finalise the name and get started on Ni’kasi’s part of the Subterfugeverse story. Maybe run the updates in-tandem with Creeping Shadows but idk if I want to wait till after CS is done before I start posting Kas’s side, or do them side-by-side yet, we’ll see ;) Keep writing! I know better than to pressure myself by setting a specific word count goal, that’s never worked well in the past

At least 2 chapters of each of the works mentioned above would be great though, more would be better! We’ll see how I go

Words of Thanks:

honestly, to everybody in the fandom I’ve met this year. Anybody that I follow, thank you for being there and engaging with me and/or posting amazing content for me to look at! I came over from deviantART where the SWTOR fandom is incredibly small and generally quite inactive and the contrast since moving over here has been incredibly uplifting. I very nearly cancelled Creeping Shadows and stopped posting fic for my SWTORverse altogether because I got next to no engagement on dA and it was very disheartening to the point where I felt I could enjoy the game and the rp partners I had, but the solo projects I’d put so much thought, time and love into already weren’t worth continuing. You guys took that spark and kept it going and I really don’t have enough words to say how grateful I am for that. Even if I haven’t published much this year, making posts on this tumblr, interacting with everyone and working on lore, plot points and so on for Subterfugeverse has kept me going through the Hellish Year of Nightmares that was 2020 <3

to the amazing new friends I’ve made in this past year, who have listened to me ramble about headcanons, character backstories, writing snippets (and rambled/sent some back), keep being awesome: @walk-ng-d-saster , @darth-bagel , @kyber-heart , @deepseacritter , @thedinalixlegacy to further friends and meme tag buddies, I get so excited every time I see a mention for a new meme or ask game in my inbox, so thank you!! : @mimabeann , @palepinkycat , @a-master-procrastinator , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @actualanxiousswampwitch , @thatmmolesbian , @a-muirehen to my regular commentors/rebloggers/likers/askbox lurkers, I see every one of you and every time your users pop up I grin like a kid in a toy shop: @starlightjedi , @sparkles-and-rust , @wilvarin-chan , @sunsetofdoom , @ask-an-andalite , @thelastenvoyyy . @lyrishadow and more because Tumblr only goes so far back and I have the memory of Swiss Cheese. If you regularly comment, like, reblog, or anything, from me, know that I see you, and I love and appreciate you for it! <3

I couldn’t possibly remember to tag everyone and I promise if I missed you out it’s not because I hate you! Anxiety just sometimes be a bitch and I don’t wanna look like a clown calling someone a “friend” if I’m not explicitly sure we are, in fact, friends. I think you’re all awesome and I’m so glad to have moved over here and met you all <3

#long post #wordcount year review tag #elven's writing: stats #repost bc i goofed some links woops sorry everyone #^^; #will i eventually post any of this stuff? yes! #i will. i just...don't know *when* the time will be right for most of it hahaha #the only bits i won't post are the zephyrverse-specific oneshots cause i just don't feel like i want to #but everything else will (eventually) in some capacity be thrown into the void for all of you to read #shameless friend appreciation post #shameless mutual and follower appreciation post #<3 #swtor sort of

[sstrongstyle]

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adam Cole x OC, mentions of Seth Rollins x OC 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After nearly a decade of being the golden girl of WWE, Adaline Marin wants out. Their ring was no longer home, haunted by her first love and upon reaching her thirties, the face behind "Aspen Glory" wonders if the passion she once had was still ablaze. Instead, she gets sent down to NXT to join the Undisputed Era. The next three hundred and sixty-five days, all captured by cameras for the history books, become a year of revival, reinvention, and realization with her legacy at stake and a new flame from the past emerging. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: All characters are referred to by their real life names (for the most part) 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I love feedback! Please send some my way! <3 Very background heavy chapter, no real fun, but more to come. If you’re interested in being added to a tag list, let me know!

CHAPTER THREE.

June 8th, 2019

Adaline couldn't believe that she didn't just agree to this, but agreed for it to be done for an entire year. It wasn't like she cared about being in management's good graces and volunteered to do it, but she somehow got hoodwinked into agreeing to a 365 special on herself. She was the last person in the world to enjoy having cameras on her when she was out of the ring and no longer Aspen Glory. Doing interviews out of character for Adaline felt like pulling teeth. She avoided Total Divas at all costs. Even appearing on stuff like Ride Along and UpUpDownDown was difficult for her.

"Just call me the modern day Undertaker," Adaline rolled her eyes, but she smiled a bit, as she sat down for the camera.

She liked her privacy as much as any other wrestler that had cameras constantly on them, but especially since fans liked to pay extra attention to her life for whatever reason. Adaline attributed it to her once long term relationship with Colby, highly publicized at several points because of whatever dirt sheet rumours and private leaks that were thrown their way. She was quiet at all times, her Wikipedia page only covering her wrestling career, as she had been as vague about her childhood as possible in the past.

Raising an eyebrow at the producer, Craig, a few feet away, Adaline wasn't sure where to begin. "I can just talk about anything?"

Anything but the few things on the "no mention" list. Most were contributed by WWE, but a lot of other things were provided by Adaline. This included her past relationship with Colby outside of kayfabe and especially anything to do with Nikki Bella.

"Start with talking about your career so far. You can name drop companies and non-contracted performers, but only because we'll be editing whatever we don't want aired, anyway."

"Right," she shifted slightly, unsurprised. "Well, I'm turning thirty-two this fall, so this will be into my sixteenth year of doing this thing."

She wasn't exactly sure why the Network executives wanted to give her a 365 special. As far as she knew, most of the episodes were focused on wrestlers overcoming serious injuries or taking the next great step in their careers. Was this what NXT was supposed to be for her?

Craig's expression remained blank, as he pushed his semi rimless glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "You started at sixteen years old?" His eyes never left the clipboard in front of him, where she assumed was a list of prompts to ask.

"Yeah, I dropped out of high school in the tenth grade and I worked retail and other random part time jobs for two years while training and working local shows in Toronto. Bingo halls, high school gyms, random parking lots, you know," Adaline explained further, still trying to loosen up her tense shoulders. "When I turned eighteen, I dropped everything and moved to the United States because I knew I was limited, wrestling where I was wrestling. I was an illegal alien with no plan and just a few hundred dollars—the dumb indie wrestler dream."

It'd been so long since she looked back at that time in her life. Once embarrassed by her roots, Adaline felt a warm, fuzzy feeling at the pit of her stomach and couldn't ignore the swelling of pride in her heart. She'd come far.

The look on Craig's face induced Adaline to continue, so she took a deep breath. "My early work happened in Pennsylvania, where I fought my way into gyms and I mean fought. It was really hard at that time for a woman to be taken seriously. It was guys like Drew Gulak and Jon—" Although Craig said that she was allowed to name drop non-contracted performers, she was positive that uttering the former Dean Ambrose's name wasn't worth it. "—um, who helped me learn the ropes and culture in that area. Chikara's Wrestling Factory really helped me out and I did stuff for them and other places like CZW. Drew was the head trainer at the CZW at the time and was one of the first mentor figures I had."

If Adaline had to put her money on it, she would have said that Craig was bored out of his damn mind, but then again, he had the same expression on his face ever since he walked into the room. "Did you just stay in the northeast for that portion of your career?"

"I ventured a bit more west as time went by. Definitely lingered around Illinois for a while, since it's where the top independent women's promotions were at the time. Funnily enough, I ended up living in Chicago for about ten years after that." To be with her boyfriend, but she didn't mention that. "I did some time on the west coast, not as much as I wish I did, but I definitely had some fun doing stuff in California and for a split second, Mexico. Three years into working in the States and I somehow, by a miracle, land myself in the locker room of Florida Championship Wrestling."

To this day, Adaline wasn't exactly sure how she got in. The tape that she sent the developmental recruits was god-awful and her tryout promo was more than cringy. However, looking at other people in her recruitment class, it was clear that officials and scouts looked at potential over everything—how well could they be molded into the WWE standard, the ceiling of their entertainment value. She wasn't sure if she should feel flattered that they saw that in her or not or if they simply saw that she could be easily manipulated.

"It was definitely a time down there. Difficult, yes, but I learned so much." Adaline could recall nights crying into her pillow out of frustration for where her training was going and how she was treated by the other talent. Girls often claimed how hard they were judged for being models and dancers before coming to FCW, but it was just as hard being an "arrogant indie schmuck." There weren't many women from back then who could relate to the garbage that she went through.

Craig asked, "Do you think performers then had a harder time in FCW than the recruits down in the PC and NXT today?"

She paused, taking the question in. "Not a harder time, per say, but the process is much smoother now, while being more of a burden. We have the state of the art Performance Center now, compared to that warehouse we used to train in. NXT gets so much more exposure now that it's harder to reinvent yourself at your own pace." Adaline said. "In a way, because NXT is now its own brand, I would say that talent from the FCW era were much more catty in the sense of starting drama and wanting to move up to get on the road with the main roster talent. The divas division back then was a very different culture to the women's locker room here at Full Sail, which is now very welcoming. Everyone wants to help each other, not drag them down."

There was nothing Adaline wanted to do more than expose certain names, but she held herself back. The catty environment, the hazing, the drama and sabotage, was too much for her. She was just glad that she move on from there quickly, as her memories in developmental hurt her as much as they did help her.

"And after FCW?"

Adaline grinned. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows what happened after that."

For the first few years, she was afraid that the only reason she got lumped in with The Shield was because she was Colby's long term girlfriend and that they assumed he would be most comfortable with her as their valet. After all, Adaline wasn't exactly progressing as a character in FCW. She was scared of that, and only being considered as eye candy and a side item for the boys. It took years of understanding from other people and seeing the product in the eye of the executives that they truly must have seen potential in her.

And if all of the above were true anyway, then Adaline made damn sure to prove herself to be otherwise in the past few years.

"My time with The Shield was everything I could ask for and more. I'm glad I spent that portion of my career with those guys, I don't think I could have found my way around without them. We were all definitely kind of lost, but we had each other, and we were really family." She wanted to say are family, but things were different these days.

Adaline talked to Joe the most, at least up until her move to the yellow and black brand. He texted and checked up on her often while she was off TV. Jon came here and there, but things were different. She only kept up with him through Renee, since the man clearly had yet to discover how to reply to a text.

Then, there was Colby.

Things were good the first couple months after the big finale. As fine as they could be, really. They were on different brands leading up to Wrestlemania, which contributed tremendously to the smooth sailing. After the Royal Rumble, though, things got. . . weird and of course, she hadn't known it yet, but it was around the time he started seeing Becky.

"Hey, Becks, some of the girls are going back to my hotel room after the show," Adaline had tapped Becky on the shoulder after catching her outside of the trainer's room during the later hours of Elimination Chamber. "You gonna come and kick my ass in Mario Kart?"

For whatever reason, Becky's expression dropped. "Oh, uh, actually, I'm just gonna head back to mine. Call it in early, y'know?" Tripping over her words, the fluster in her voice was a tad suspicious to Adaline, but she brushed it off.

She'd proceeded with her plans with Pamela and Leah, playing video games into the early morning. Adaline didn't even think of Becky and her obvious excuse until Leah mentioned that she ran into Becky on her way back to her own room.

"It was written all over her face! Someone definitely got lucky that night," Leah mused at the makeup table, two days later at Smackdown. "Who do you think the guy is? She's definitely not one for random hookups."

Adaline knew that she wasn't owed an explanation to Colby's new love life, but she was a little disappointed that she figured it out on her own. The little things, the rumours she heard backstage, all pieced together for her to realize what was going on between the two of them. Maybe Adaline wouldn't have felt so ruffled about it if it wasn't made to be so weird and secretive. She didn't tell anyone what she found out, keeping it to herself until they announced it themselves.

"Stop making excuses for him, I know why he's late." She didn't even look up from her phone, as she waited in the passenger's seat of the group's rental car. "He's with her, right?"

This was at the tail end of The Shield's farewell era in February earlier that year. Though, Adaline was not heavily involved in the storyline as some expected her to be—the escalation to her own Wrestlemania feud had been going on and she had duties to fulfill on the Smackdown brand. She wasn't there for the buildup throughout the month on Raw, but she was able to join the reunion at Fastlane. It was the group's last match together and the group begged personnel to let her be apart of at least the final moments.

Joe and Jon simply exchanged looks with each other in response. They clearly knew about the couple and probably found out from Colby himself. While nobody said anything to Adaline about it, deep down, they all knew that nobody needed to. She knew Colby more than possibly any other person in the world and the two weren't surprised that she figured it all out.

"Right." Jon was the one who chose to break the awkward silence. "Well, he can meet us there. Let's get this show on the road, we got some beautiful people waiting to see my beautiful face at that bar." It felt a little wrong to not wait for Colby on their way to the roster's "Goodbye Shield" party at a local watering hole, but even Joe was sick of waiting and started the engine.

"We had the time of our lives in that initial run. There's just too memories that I'll cherish forever, you know. But, my memory of all time is surprising the fans at Fastlane, when I showed up to accompany the boys to the ring one last time and having that farewell embrace as the show went off air." Adaline quickly blinked back the tears, as sensitive as ever, but she didn't like showing that side of her to the camera. "I swear to god, time seemed to just completely stop for those few minutes. It was out of this world, nothing like it."

The most magical part of wrestling was the crowd, there's no denying that. On the eve of Fastlane, Adaline felt mountains of love and excitement from the fans, knowing that they were witnessing the end of an era. All four of them knew it was the end of an era, in many ways more than one. Adaline and Colby, who were always known as a collective, rather than individually, were now apart and were now moving on from each other. Mox chose to chase his dreams elsewhere, away from the three that became his family. Joe's legacy in the industry was building and building, year by year. They were no longer the people they were in 2012, having finally gotten a taste of wealth and glory after early years of struggle when the four used to share a single hotel room to save costs.

She'll always be grateful for her run with The Shield. At the beginning, she was just happy to be in a main roster storyline. She was just happy to be able to maximize her time with Colby. Beyond that, Jon and Joe became her family. Bickering over who's turn it was to drive after long house shows, getting to know Joe's kids, playing video games in the locker rooms and every hotel room, and nobody leaving the trainer's room until everybody was clear. No one got left behind.

Back then, it was like that. Now? Adaline can't help but feel like she's come to that point, without any of the three by her side for the first time in a decade.

Craig sighed a little too loudly, rolling up his sleeve and glancing at the shiny watch on his wrist. "We're running out of time. We'll touch on your time with The Authority and everything since then for our next interview day, maybe also dig a little deeper into your new alliance with Undisputed Era." Adaline tried not to breathe a sigh of relief, already worn out from the questions. "Last thing. What are your expectations going into NXT, considering all that you've gone through in sixteen years?"

A question that she didn't know the answer to.

"It's good catching up with you. You have your locker number?" Coach Bloom stood up from his chair from across the desk, extending his hand for Adaline to shake.

She nodded, taking his hand. "Yes, sir. I'll be on my way, then."

Being called into the head trainer's office was similar to the feeling of being called into the principal's office and she had more fear in her body than someone who had just arrived should have had. That was the feeling that Bloom gave off to all NXT residents, but she knew that there was always care behind his tough demeanour. He simply wanted to welcome her properly to the PC on her first official day.

Meanwhile, Serena had been sitting to the side of the two of them and she couldn't confine the grin stretching across her face. When they had shook hands, she instead pulled her old friend into a tight embrace.

"I'm so happy you're here," she whispered into her ear, not caring that Bloom was rolling his eyes at them, mumbling about something for the two women to take it outside of his office.

They had only reunited so few times since Serena signed on as a coach for the Centre a year ago and it only made the moment feel so much sweeter. At the very beginning of Adaline's career, Serena had served as such a helpful mentor figure, even going into their short lived time in the FCW women's locker room together. To have their paths intersect once again, at yet another pivotal part in Adaline's life, seemed poetic in a sense.

Adaline walked out of the office, in tow with Serena. "I guess I'll be responding to your drills again, huh?"

"And you better do it damn well," she raised an eyebrow at the younger woman. "I'm still in shock that you're here. They really didn't want you going anywhere else, huh?"

Shrugging in response, the Canadian sighed. "I'm in shock, too—considering that NXT wasn't apart of the plan." Adaline was getting tired complaining about how the wool was pulled over her eyes during her contract negotiations, but it was starting to fully settle in. Meeting the guys in Hunter's office softened the blow. It was time to shut up and accept the facts.

"People everywhere watched what you did all over the world during those two years that you were gone. You don't need this company to be a star, they need you," Serena said. "Have you maybe considered that you're here because you did all you could do on RAW and Smackdown?"

Those words echoed in Adaline's head, as she trudged into the women's locker room.

It had almost ten years since she started this journey in this company and it seemed like almost everybody that started with her had already grown tired of it. Her first road wives, April and Celeste, were long gone. Danielle decided that she was worn out and was gone. Trinity had recently taken time off and wasn't sure when she was coming back to the ring. Saraya, someone who Adaline thought would be wrestling in her sixties, was retired. Even the goddamn Bellas weren't around anymore. Ninety percent of the division from a decade ago was gone. Wasn't she exhausted, too?

She envied women like Becky and Pamela, who were still hungry for more. There were others who had just made the main roster and some down with her in NXT now, who suffered through the struggles of the indies and were still ready to claw up to the top. Adaline wondered where that drive was for her.

Every locker was labelled by ring name, some with more long-standing plates—mainstays like Io Shirai and Bianca Belair. Meanwhile, others simply had a laminated piece of paper slapped on top of the metal. These were the recruits who had yet to prove themselves, the names that Adaline couldn't recognize.

A shiny, new plate shone on the locker that sat at the corner of the room. Aspen Glory, it read, in all of its permanent lustre.

She slammed her gym bag onto the bench, the impact echoing throughout the empty room. The process felt foreign, making a locker home when Adaline spent so many years travelling to probably hundreds of different arenas and treating each space and moment as temporary. She wasn't sure where to begin, as she unlocked the door and was met with a clean, baby blue interior.

There were some basic things that she brought, like extra socks, a water bottle, and shower shoes. Adaline quickly filled the locker up with these contents and it still appeared so barren to her. What the hell else was she supposed to put in it? She shrugged, not thinking too much about it. Then, she heard the door creak open.

Somewhat hidden away from the front of the locker room, Adaline could hear a distinct voice that seemed to be talking to someone over the phone and a smile formed, hoping it was who she thought it was.

"Yeah, that sounds good for dinner. I just got into the PC, I think Cheree's already waiting for me. You know how she is, she's always early. Alright, bye, Johnny, I love you. See you."

A flash of blonde hair only confirmed Adaline's suspicions. It was Candice LeRae, who hummed the melody of a 90s pop song and chewed bubblegum, as she strolled over without noticing the other female in the room. She easily unlocked her name plated locker, which was across from Adaline's, and nearly everything spilled out from it being too full.

She groaned. "Oh, crap," Candice said, trying to chase a bottle of dry shampoo that had begun rolling across the floor, only to be met with Adaline's bemused expression.

"Hi."

"Hey," Candice replied with a grin, a little perplexed.

Almost instantaneously, they pulled each other into a hug. Knowing that she would be diving head first into the unknown, Adaline was aware that she couldn't navigate all on her own. The two Breezango idiots were too busy figuring their own things out and she couldn't voice her anxiety to her new stable mates, wanting to give off a confident face. There were only so many people that Adaline could turn to outside of them, so she gave Candice a heads up that she was now reporting to the Performance Centre.

Adaline bent down and reached out for the lavender can for her shorter friend, passing it to her. "Your shit's a mess, girl."

"Yours will be, too. Give it a month," she rolled her eyes and peeked over her shoulder at Adaline's belongings on the bench. "You're moving in today?! I honestly did not expect to see you here so soon."

"I told you that I landed a few days ago, didn't I? I've been in meetings all weekend," Adaline replied with a groan. She had only been in Orlando for such a short amount of time and the amount of work and settling she had to do was taxing. The NXT tapings hadn't even begun, yet.

Candice said, "Yeah, it doesn't really slow down for another week or so. You'll love it here, I promise." As everyone else had promised Adaline, who clearly wasn't convinced.

The blonde turned around and put the can back into its place—if it even had one, in that mess of a locker—and began rummaging through her personal possessions. Candice let a out a soft a-ha! when she found what she was looking for at the back of the space, a Minnie Mouse hairbrush. Adaline chuckled softly at the sight and turned around, closing her own locker.

"Are you off to go workout?"

"Yeah, Cheree's wanted to get some cardio in. Any more meetings today?" Candice replied.

Adaline shook her head. "No, just moving in." She gestured to her gym bag and locker.

"Well, while you're here, the taping schedule is posted up by the west wing double doors, you know, the ones to the main gym. We can check it out together. Actually, would your name even be on there?" Candice thought to herself, considering that she was one of the few people who were made aware of Adaline's presence. The taping schedule wasn't usually subject to the change unless there was an injury, but producers were known edited the cards last minute to accommodate random returns and debuts before, at least once the talent found out.

The woman in question just shrugged in response. "Beats me. It doesn't hurt to look, right?"

"Then, we can check out the travel schedule. Ooh, I hope you're coming with us to the midwest loop at the end of the month!" Candice became giddy. "We'll hit the road together, no men! I wish we got to do that more often when you were in Cali."

Adaline didn't get the opportunity to do so often, but she loved wrestling in The Golden State and especially in PWG. When she worked with them in the past, she always travelled and hung out with Candice.

"I don't think so, but probably the next one?" she shrugged.

The two began chatting more for the next few minutes, mostly about Adaline settling in and her new house. Always the lazy type, she'd been procrastinating and the boxes in her home were left untouched, despite her promising herself that she would get it all out. The small talk about something other than wrestling for once settled the restlessness in Adaline, a small distract of sorts.

It wasn't like she disliked talking about wrestling, rather it was all that seemed to be on her mind for the past while since Wrestlemania. Somehow, it was the first time Adaline really took notice of that, considering she lived, breathed, and ate wrestling for the past sixteen years of her life. A part of her felt worrisome for the sudden awareness of it, wondering it had any relation to her other career concerns.

Unfortunately, the brief, sweet wrestling-free moment was cut short when the locker room door slammed open.

Everyone knew who Shayna Baszler was, or at least, every woman in the company did. After all, the current NXT Women's Champion was probably next in line to overtake your spot in the animal kingdom. Management wanted to push her to lead the division once she would inevitably leave NXT and become a box office draw for all of the big pay-per-views and tours and media.

Some said that Shayna was one of, if not, the most intimidating women on the NXT roster and bore a vicious gaze. Even upon entering the locker room that was nearly empty, her presence demanded attention. All eyes drew to her so naturally and so quickly as they tore away from her out of fear.

"Out of my way," was all she had to say to Adaline, not even flinching at the sight of the veteran and former women's champion.

Adaline zoned out for a moment, completely baffled by the attitude that she was just given. She couldn't help but scoff, trying to process the disrespect that was being shown to her.

She narrowed her eyes at Shayna. "The hell did you just say to me?"

In between them, Candice just sighed. It seemed like that she wanted to end what was going to be an ugly dispute early, but something held her back. Adaline hoped it wasn't out of intimidation by the former mixed martial artist.

Shayna stared back at the woman in front of her. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you got this brand on lock? They get tired of you on the main roster and Japan couldn't offer you enough money, so you come down here to fuck around?"

Adaline wanted to find out how Shayna found out that she was going to be here, but that wasn't the main concern of hers. Her jaw nearly dropped to the ground, hearing Shayna's words. Clearly, she didn't like her or some rumours already began to float around backstage. Regardless, Adaline was already on the bad side of the de facto locker room leader.

With the fury running through her body, though, she didn't give a damn.

"I'm going to say this once, so you better listen up," Shayna began, "I think you're entitled. I think that you've ridden on the coattails of your ex-boyfriend for your entire career. So, I don't like you. Plain and simple."

"You think you know me?" Adaline's voice began to rise, but Shayna held up a hand and didn't let her finish.

She said, "Maybe for you, being here is like a little vacation before someone like Ashley Flair gets injured and creative will need another spoiled brat to bury their women's division with on Smackdown. For some of us, NXT is our entire lives. Don't mess that up for us."

With that, Shayna bumped Adaline's shoulder when she walked away to the other side of the room and behind a wall to another area of lockers. All she could hear after was the stomping of boots and the slamming of a metal door open. Meanwhile, she was in complete shock of the conversation that just happened, wondering if she just imagined it.

Looking at Candice's sheepish expression, though, it confirmed that Shayna Baszler did indeed strut right up to Adaline and cussed out one of the scariest warnings that the latter had ever heard in her life.

"Honestly, she gives that talk to every new girl," Candice said in a low voice, as she ushered Adaline out of the locker room.

"You can't be serious," Adaline shot back, still worked up over what happened. It took all the will in her body to not barge right back in and swing at Shayna's smug face.

The target was now on her back and she had yet to even step into the yellow brand's ring. If she was being honest, it was definitely a wake up call to where she was now and the expectations weighing down on her shoulders. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. She didn't even want to be here. Adaline wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was terrified for the first time in years.

#adam cole imagine #adam cole fanfiction #adam cole x reader #wwe fanfic #nxt fanfic #wwe imagine #hm series

[sass-and-suspenders]

Merlot & Mistletoe

GIF from big-brass-ego-deactivated201812

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: Just some holiday fluff staring everyone’s favourite peacock

Frederick swirled his wine as he surveyed the room. As much as he loathed BSHCI’s annual Christmas party, he had to admit that the venue looked superb: white Christmas lights were strung about the room casting a warm glow, tasteful red and white floral arrangements adorned every table, and an impeccably decorated Christmas tree, one of the largest he’d ever seen, stood in the center of the room. From his position near the bar, Frederick spied a bunch of mistletoe hanging above the main doorway.

His mood quickly soured when his attention turned from the décor to his coworkers. All around him, his colleagues and their partners were enjoying themselves, which only seemed to amplify his own loneliness. Abandoned at his table while everyone else was mingling, Frederick began to list every insufferable thing about work holiday parties: forced small talk with coworkers whom he despised, barely edible food, overly loud Christmas music (and, god forbid, Christmas karaoke). Taking a sip of his drink, he added ‘wine only a step above grape juice mixed with antifreeze’ to his list.

And then he spotted you in the crowd and acknowledged that work parties did have some advantages.

In your bright red dress, Frederick was surprised he didn’t notice you sooner. You were surrounded by a group of people, talking animatedly with a large smile on your face. While he was too far away to make out what you were saying, he could hear faint sounds of laughter from the group.

You had started at BSHCI two months ago, filling-in for a psychiatrist on maternity leave. On your second day, you literally ran into Frederick, scattering the contents of the patient folders you were carrying across the hallway. It was during your stammered apology, as he helped you pick up papers, that Frederick first felt the butterflies in his stomach that always materialized whenever he saw you.

You turned your head, sensing someone’s eyes on you; realizing it was Frederick, you flashed him a smile. However, Frederick remained rooted in his seat, not daring to go over and say hello. Memories of the last time he mustered up the courage to speak to you flooded his mind. He had been a bundle of nerves, stumbling over his words and even calling you by the wrong name. You had laughed off his faux pas, telling him not to worry and then jokingly called him by the wrong name. That was perhaps what Frederick loved most about you: your kindness. Unlike everyone else in the hospital, you never mocked him. Come to think of it, Frederick couldn’t recall you ever saying a bad word about anyone.

In his seat, Frederick imagined what life would be like if only he were a little bolder. How he would be at your side, his arm wrapped around your waist; how he would proudly introduce you to everyone as his girlfriend; how you would go home with him at the end of the night; how he would find your red dress on his bedroom floor in the morning.

And then the thought hit him that you might already be seeing someone. You’d never mentioned anyone before, but Frederick still found himself anxiously turning his attention to the people around you, checking to see if they worked at the hospital or if there was someone unfamiliar who could be your date. A sense of relief washed over him when he didn’t find anyone, but it quickly dissipated when he observed one of the hospital’s board members lay a hand on your arm. Frederick bitterly noted that it was the youngest (and, according to the nurses, the handsomest) member of the board; the one with the pretentious name, the one who always parked his expensive cars haphazardly across multiple parking spaces, the one who was on the board due to his family’s connections and barely bothered to do any actual work.

His heart sank further as he watched the board member lean down to whisper something in your ear. While Frederick could hardly blame the man for flirting with you, he still found himself silently willing the massive Christmas tree to fall directly on Chauncey or Nigel or whatever his pompous name was.

It was in the midst of this death by Christmas tree fantasy, which now included the tree taking out several additional colleagues who Frederick found particularly unpleasant, that he noticed the nurse.

She wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but Frederick had worked with enough criminals to notice the subtleties of human behaviour. Like, for instance, how the nurse’s wine glass was precariously full or how her gaze, which was focused on you, contained a predatory glint.

While Frederick was quick to piece together the nurse’s intention, he had no time to warn you. He could only sit and helplessly watch the scene unfold: the nurse pretended to trip, spilling her glass of red wine all over your dress. Frederick could tell you didn’t believe it was an accident (even from where he was sitting, he knew that the nurse would never win an Oscar), but you didn’t make a scene. Instead, you graciously accepted her fake apology before excusing yourself to go clean up.

With a mix of excitement and panic, Frederick realized that your path to the washroom would take you right past his table. His pulse quickened as you approached, the pounding of his heart drowning out all external noise. You were frowning slightly, head bent down, as you assessed the damage to your dress.

“Club soda!” Frederick exclaimed, the primitive part of his brain taking over, as you reached his table. He hated how his voice sounded an octave higher than usual.

You paused, turning to face him with a look of confusion. Frederick mentally berated himself; only two words into the conversation and he’d already managed to embarrass himself.

Clearing his throat, he started again. “Club soda will prevent the stain from setting. There’s some at the bar. I, uh, could go get it for you. If you want, that is.”

“That would be great -thanks!” You smiled brightly at him, and Frederick was sure he would develop heart palpitations from how quickly his heart was beating. “Meet me near the washroom?”

Frederick eagerly nodded, earning another smile from you. He knew it was irrational, but part of him hoped that, if he saved your dress, you’d start to see him in a different light, that maybe you would start to feel butterflies, too.

The instant you left, Frederick rushed to the bar, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. He feared that someone would swoop in and help you while he was away, causing him to lose his chance with you. When he found you, though, you were alone, blotting the wine on your dress with flimsy paper towels.

“Hey,” you greeted when you spotted Frederick lingering in the doorway. His arms were laden with bottles of club soda, making you wonder if there were any left at the bar. 

“Apologies for taking so long,” Frederick said stepping into the washroom, even though it had only been a few minutes since you last saw him. “I went to get some hand towels as well.”

“You’re amazing!” you beamed, helping him place the items on the bathroom counter. “I’ve had no luck with these paper towels –I think they’re actually making me look worse.” You gestured to a large splotch of wine on your dress.

“You look like a work of art,” he murmured as he studied you in your dress under the pretense of examining the stain. When he looked up at you, there was an unreadable expression on your face.

“I mean,” Frederick started to backtrack, realizing that he had voiced these thoughts aloud. “Your dress -it looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

He vaguely gestured to your dress as he prayed for the ground to swallow him up.

“Wine Whirlwind, 2019. Merlot on velvet,” You chuckled, drawing Frederick out of his embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, one of Pollock’s later works. I believe the MoMa is interested in acquiring it,” Frederick added, causing you to laugh harder. A feeling of pride shot through him when you laughed at his joke.

When the laughter died down, you and Frederick were left awkwardly staring at each other. Frederick fiddled with his signet ring, unsure if he was overstaying his welcome.

“So,” you said softly, touching the back of your neck and nodding towards the club soda. “Is there a trick I should know or…?”

“No trick,” Frederick shook his head. “You just pour it on the stain and allow it to sit for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” you paused for a moment before voicing the next thing on your mind. “There’s some wine on the back of my dress that I can’t quite reach -would you mind helping?”

You swept your hair away, revealing the dark red spot near your shoulder, as well as your neck. Frederick audibly swallowed. He envisioned himself placing kisses along the nape of your neck before unzipping your dress and letting it pool on the floor.

“Frederick?” You prompted, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Y-yes, that’s fine,” Frederick choked out, closing the distance between you.

As he carefully poured club soda on the stain, Frederick attempted to push the images of you and your alluring red dress out of his mind. He knew that his infatuation with you was one-sided, that he was only getting his hopes up with these daydreams.

“Did you know,” he began, trying to turn his thoughts to a more monotonous topic but nearly losing his train of thought when he caught a whiff of your perfume. “It’s a misconception that sprinkling salt on wine stains will remove them. Red wine contains tannins, and sodium chloride actually sets those types of stains.”

“Hm, I had no idea,” you answered, your eyes downcast and lips pursed as you focused on the giant splotch of wine near the hem of your dress. “It’s a good thing you’re here -a few people told me to use salt.”

“I’m glad my experience is useful. My experience with chemistry, that is. I don’t know all of this because I constantly spill wine on myself. I’m perfectly capable of drinking from a glass,” Frederick babbled. He hated how being around you seemed to turn his brain into mush.

“Well, however you came to know about it, I’m grateful,” you said, catching his gaze in the mirror, a faint smile on your lips.

Frederick felt his cheeks redden as he muttered something incoherent in response.

The two of you worked in silence for the next few minutes, with Frederick stealing glances at you. He couldn’t help but smile at your pursed lips as you concentrated on tackling the stains. He’d noticed a similar expression on your face whenever you dealt with complicated cases.

When the work was done, you turned to him. “Thank you again for helping me, Frederick,” you grinned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“O-of course,” he faltered, feeling the familiar flutter in his stomach intensify as your hand touched his.

“I should probably go home…My dress needs to dry and, honestly, I just want to change into my pajamas and watch TV.”

“Right,” Frederick said, trying not to sound disappointed. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that the night would have ended with you declaring your love for him, but he thought you would at least offer to dance with him out of pity. “Allow me walk you out.”

You nodded, taking his hand as you exited the washroom. Frederick tried not to read too much into the gesture, instead focusing on the way your hand seemed to fit perfectly in his. His small moment of happiness was soon interrupted; as you were heading out, the nurse was coming in from a smoke.

“Oh, I hope you’re not going home! Is it because your dress is ruined?” The nurse asked, barely attempting to conceal her glee.

Frederick gained a small sense of satisfaction at the fact that the pompous board member had abandoned her and was chatting up someone else.

“Thank you for your concern, but my dress is fine. Frederick ended up saving the day,” you coolly replied.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Frederick directed to the nurse. While you were fine taking the high road, he certainly was not. “I was glancing through my patient files and noticed that your notes are a mess. I’ll need you to re-write them.”

“But Dr. Chilton-”

“And while you’re at it, you can also upload the files into the new online system. I’ll need it done by Monday morning, 9am sharp.” Frederick stared her down, ready to add more tedious tasks if she complained.

The nurse simply nodded, albeit with a large scowl on her face, before she left to rejoin the party. He was sure she muttered a few choice words about him under her breath as she stomped off.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you glanced up at him, your hand still intertwined with his.

“She was being malicious. She intentionally spilled that glass of wine on you because she was envious of the attention you were getting. I’m not going to let her get away without repercussions. Besides,” he added, lightening the tone lest you find out his feelings for you and reject him. “Who says I did it for you? Maybe, I was avenging the wine she wasted.”

“Please, we both know it wasn’t for the wine -it was basically burgundy-coloured antifreeze,” you warmly smiled before your expression turned more serious. “You know, it’s amazing how you can notice some things and yet be completely oblivious to others.”

“I’m not oblivious,” Frederick scoffed.

“Oh, no, you are. Example number one: you’re standing under the mistletoe,” you smirked, pointing towards the ceiling.

Frederick glanced upwards, finding the bundle of mistletoe he’d noticed at the start of the evening directly above him. He felt his palms become sweaty and he was grateful that his facial hair would partially hide the redness creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Frederick quickly remarked. “It’s fake anyway, so it wouldn’t be bad luck. I don’t expect-”

“Example number two,” you interrupted before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Frederick barely registered what had happened before you were speaking again. “I’ve had a crush on you since we met.”

For once in his life, Frederick didn’t make a situation worse by rambling. Instead, he pulled you close and kissed you with all of the desire that built up over the last two months. With your lips on his, Frederick could hardly remember why he hated work parties.

In fact, he was looking forward to the next one.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley​ @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan​ @misssirenlove​  @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32​​

#frederick chilton x reader #chilton x reader #frederick chilton #chilton #hannibal #christmas fluff

[ladybugsfanfics]

Shut Up And Kiss Me [12/?]

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader 

WC: 5.3k

Warnings: pining, angst(?), 

Summary:  You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with.

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Part Thirteen

Tom bets, with everything within him, that the university could afford better seats on the plane. He’s certain that there could be better places to sit than almost at the back, cramped together. There is no way the seats are even economy. 

Based on the way Y/N slumps down in her seat with a groan, he guesses she feels the same. However, he doesn’t comment on it outloud. 

Since he met her in hallway last Monday and didn’t exactly know how to approach her, things have been weird. They’ve split the creative writing lessons so that they only have one teacher and not two, and she’s stopped sitting with him and Benedict during lunch. Tom guesses he knows why, but he’s not happy with how they’ve lost everything he’s been trying to build up. 

It’s, fortunately, not worse than how it was after the kiss. After that, his heart broke, but it broke more how casual Y/N was around him in the aftermath. They were still friends, still talked to each other and it hurt on every level to know she doesn’t feel the same―not that she knows how he feels. 

Tom has every hope that this spontaneous conference can help a little bit. The two of them will have to talk together a little bit and maybe they can clear the air. After all, his mind’s been stuck in the same place for the last week and a half but he’s none the wiser as to why Y/N hasn’t said anything during that time. It would be something she would comment on, right?

He shakes off the thoughts. He decided yesterday that he would use the hour and twenty minutes of flight time to sleep. Belt on, carry on secure, and a last minute peek at Y/N, who’s pulling a book out of her little backpack along with weird looking bracelets. His aching heart really needs a rest. 

Tom closes his eyes, and tries to let his mind rest. It’s to no avail as his thoughts keep flickering around, but at least he looks asleep. Maybe he’ll bore himself to sleep. 

He doesn’t, because, after what feels like forever later, Y/N shoves him a little and says they’ve landed. Tom sighs. 

At least she talked to him. 

It takes a little less than half an hour to get out of the airport and into a cab. Tom is the one to tell the driver what hotel they’re staying at, and during the ride, all Y/N does is stare out the window. He tries not to look at her, but every now and then he glances her way. Every time her expression seems a little sad, a little disappointed, and very much tired. 

That all changes when they come to the hotel and are greeted by the host of the conference, David Tennant. The man smiles at the two of them and Y/N smiles back, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. Tom tries for a smile as well, but he’s not sure he manages. 

“Welcome,” says David, clapping his hands together. “We’re all happy you could make it, just walk in and you’ll be lead to your rooms. There’s a small get-together of the lecturers this evening, which is a choice to come to, but we hope you’ll be there.”

Y/N smiles. “We’ll see. But thanks for the invite.” 

“Yes, actually, there was someone wanting to talk to you.” David turns fully, only talking to Y/N, which has Tom’s heart ache, pinched to become the tiniest it can be. 

“Oh, really? Who?” 

“A Mr. Chris Evans.” 

Tom’s heart drops. That ache in his chest even bigger than before, and not only because he knows Y/N and Chris have a history but also because of the way she lights up. The smile that didn’t before reach her eyes, does now. 

Y/N thanks David as he leads them in, says she’ll go to Chris as soon as they’re settled in their rooms. He helps them at the receptionist’s desk, but leaves as soon as he’s told the woman their names. 

The woman smiles, her eyes lingering on Tom. He notices a small flutter of her eyelashes and the slightly flirtatious smile she sends him, but he ignores it. His heart belongs to someone else. He thought the feelings were gone, that they wouldn’t come back, and then… everything blossomed anew. His world went back into the misery it had been when he tried to get over her the first time around. 

“Here you go, Mrs. Y/L/N. The key to your room.” The woman hands Y/N a key, but she doesn’t leave.

“Did you say Mrs. Y/L/N?” she asks, lips pressed tightly together in afterthought. 

The woman nods. “Yes, are you two not married? We have you under the same room.” Her eyes flicker between Y/N and Tom, innocence the only visible thing in her eyes. 

“No, we’re not. Can we get two rooms?”

The woman shakes her head. “Sorry, everything’s booked up. There should be two beds, though.” 

Y/N nods, tries for a smile, but the anger has made a home on her face. The smile is more a half glare than anything else. But she thanks the woman, grabs her suitcase and walks to the elevator. As she walks, Tom can see that the knuckles are white on the hand holding the key. 

He rushes after her, manages to get into the elevator before it closes and tries for a sympathetic smile her way. Yet, he doesn’t say anything. He’s kind of happy about it, as that makes him able to spend more time with her, maybe more easily talk to her about what’s been bugging him for the last week. 

They don’t talk the whole elevator ride, and when they reach the floor their room is on, Y/N walks ahead. Even her walking is stomping. She reaches the room, unlocks it and walks inside. Tom follows after, and nearly bumps into her as she’s stopped in her tracks. 

To no one’s particular surprise, there is only one bed. 

Y/N turns around. “I’ll text Chris, ask him about his room situation and check if I can be with him instead.” It’s not a proposition, or a question. It’s a statement and her phone is in her hand, fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard. 

The frustration and telling she’s not gonna stay in the room doesn’t keep her from lying down on the bed. Tom doesn’t mind (maybe the sheets will smell like her) and, now that he can, makes his way further inside to sit down on a chair by a mini desk. 

After a few minutes in silence, there’s a knock on the open door. Tom looks up to find Chris. The man is cautiously looking into the room, and when he sees Y/N, his face lights up. Tom diverts his gaze to her, and sees that she’s regained her energy as she jumps off the bed and right into his open arms. 

“You have a single room?” asks Y/N, looking up at the man, still in his embrace. 

“Yeah. One room with a queen sized bed all to myself.” He says it teasingly, making Tom feel like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be. “But can’t say I’m bummed about getting to share with you.” 

Tom’s whole body turns ice cold. It buzzes with nerves, as if a bee has taken up residence in his veins. His heart hammers, squeezes. It feels like he can’t breathe properly. His gut churns, not a good flutter or a warmth spreading from joy, but a churn that makes it feel like someone’s turning a knife around in his stomach. It feels like someone has stabbed him, again and again and again, and they’re sprinkling salt on the open wound. 

Never before has Tom felt more like crap. Never before has Tom been this disappointed in his feelings. Never before has Tom wanted to take away someone else’s happiness like he wants to in that moment. 

Relief washes over him when the two of them leave. 

---

David had, during the dinner buffet that was free, told Tom that the lecture holders gathering would start at eight. Tom had eaten, gone up to his room and refined his and Y/N’s lecture for tomorrow (his part of course) a little and at exactly eight, he decided to go downstairs again. 

He’s standing outside the elevator doors, having pressed the down button and waiting patiently. The numbers indicating the floors are on two floors above him and decreasing steadily. The doors open with a pling and a voice saying “fourth floor”. 

In the open doors, he sees Y/N. She’s leaning against the wall with her eyes on her phone, not even looking at Tom. He steps inside, swallows his pride and checks what buttons she pressed. 

Lobby. 

Since she’s not with Chris, he suspects she’s going to the gathering herself. However, she might also be going out to eat with him but that one of them had to do something―he hadn’t seen either of them during his own dinner. 

Tom keeps his mouth shut, deciding that a ride in silence will be for the best. He’s content to just be in Y/N’s presence, anyway. Considering that they’ve gone from being acquaintances to enemies to friends to coworkers who try to speak to each other as little as possible, he takes what he can get. 

Of course, his prayers of the ride to go smoothly and that (no matter how much he wants to be in Y/N’s presence) they won’t have to be in the same space more than need be, are not answered. 

The elevator makes a weird noise that has Y/N look up from her phone. She takes a glance at Tom and for once her look isn’t evading his but more a ‘what the hell is going on?’ and then the noise stops. But so does the elevator. 

A red light starts to blink on the button panel. It’s of a bell, probably to signal an alarm. Great, the fucking elevator stopped. 

“We are sorry for the inconvenience. The lift has stopped and we will try to be as quick as we can to help you out. How long this will take, we can’t say.” 

The voice is a mockery in Tom’s head. He glares at the panel and lets out a groan. 

Y/N does the same, but hers sounds a bit different. He chances a look her way. She has her eyes closed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, and Tom isn’t sure exactly what kind of reaction it is. 

Until she slides down the wall, drops her phone to the floor and curls in on herself. Tom is almost certain what comes next are sobs, but he’s not sure. She rocks back and forth, making Tom’s heart break slowly in his chest. 

He pulls himself together. There’s no way he can watch her sit there and cry and not do anything. So he walks slowly over and he sits down next to her. He drapes his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his embrace. 

It’s definitely sobs. Now he can hear them and feel them. He doesn’t care that his shirt gets wet, all he cares about is the fact that her breathing is irregular, she’s sobbing and her whole body trembles. Tom strokes her hair, creates circles on her back and tries his best to whisper “it’s okay” soothingly. 

There’s no saying how long they’ll be trapped, no saying how long she will take to get over it. Tom isn’t even sure why she reacted the way she did, but he isn’t going to hold it against her. Never. 

Eventually, she pulls away. She wipes her eyes with her palms, and for once, gives Tom a grateful smile. It takes him back to when she said thank you over a month ago when he’d saved her from falling down the steps to the basement. It reminds him of the soft look she had, the tiny touch to his wrist. 

The reminder has his heart hurt more. It was when they became better friends, when they did more to become closer and work together. And in a little over a month, Tom had probably ruined it again. Or, he isn’t sure if it’s his fault, but he thinks it might be. 

It’s him that hasn’t asked Y/N about what she told him. She probably thinks he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t want anything to do with her because he hasn’t answered. But that’s not true. 

He just doesn’t know what to answer. 

But he knows what to say now, seeing Y/N’s bloodshot eyes and still slightly terrified expression. “Are you okay?” It sounds like a stupid question, but it seems to relieve some of the fear on her face. 

“Yeah,” she replies. “I think so. Thanks.”

He shrugs. “My pleasure.” My pleasure? Really Tom? You could’ve done better than that. Tom tries not to make it obvious he hates himself for saying that. 

Yet, Y/N only smiles. Her lips are graced with this almost laugh that makes Tom’s heart swell, because despite just having stopped crying, she looks content. 

“I hope we’re not gonna be here long,” she says. “I don’t think I can handle that.” 

“I hope we won’t either, and for the same reason.” 

That creates another laugh, and Tom tries to not smile so proudly at being able to make her laugh. He tries to let it go, together with the somersault his gut takes, but it doesn’t seem to be the easiest thing to do. 

Silence settles over them, and Tom ponders if he should break it many times. But it’s Y/N that does, and not quite how he thought she would. 

“What did I tell you over a week ago? When you called Chris out of worry?”

Tom stares at her, blinking rapidly in confusion. “You don’t remember?”

She shakes her eyes. “Complete blackout. All I know is I alerted you to something, had a few missed calls from Benedict, texts from Chris and some snaps from some people I don’t know who are and that I instantly deleted.”

“Chris didn’t tell you anything?” 

“He said he didn’t know anything. He said he’d just gotten a worried call from you or something and then he sent me texts asking if I was okay and such and when I asked him about it he said that I needed to ask you because he didn’t know.”

Tom sighs. First of all, he was hoping she knew. Second of all, he’d told Chris exactly what she’d told him. Why hadn’t he told her that? Why had he lied? It doesn’t matter. He won’t rip her happiness away from her. He couldn’t possibly live with himself if he did. 

He leans his head back against the elevator wall. “If you don’t know, maybe it’s for the best.” 

“Nope, never. I’m going to go crazy if someone doesn’t tell me and since you’re the only one who knows I have no choice but to ask you.” Y/N looks adamant at him. “Look, I know things have been awkward this past week but it’s because I didn’t know how to ask what I said and also don’t know what I said and I’m afraid of what it is. I’m sorry I’ve been kind of distant.”

Tom lets the smile tug on his lips. “Don’t be. I haven’t been any better.” He nods, swallows the lump in his throat and looks at her. “Okay, so for what you told me… I’m not sure if it really is going to let this become less awkward, but since you want to know so badly, I’ll tell you.”

“You know you can just say it outright? Not lead up to it as if a villain in a movie?”

Tom laughs. “I can? I didn’t know.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you want to know or not?”

Y/N hold up her arms in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Yes, I do want to know.” 

“You told me, and I quote ‘I think you should read this story I wrote. It’s about a couple of teachers, like us, who go on dates and end up together and I think it’s really cute and I think you should find something like it’.” 

Y/N raises both brows. “You can quote that? From me being drunk and calling you?” 

“You have to admit that it was quite weird.” 

“Yeah, which is exactly why you shouldn’t remember it word for word.” She gives him an exasperated look. 

Tom stifles a laugh. “That’s what you take from it? That I shouldn’t remember it that well? That’s your outcome? Not the fact that you told me about a story you’d written and compared it to us? A story which included the two people you compared to us, dating?”

“To be honest, that is weird and much more like me and Chris than us.” She looks away from Tom, frown coloring her face. “And I don’t even remember writing that. I don’t think I have anything―” 

A light goes off on her face.

“You don’t have anything, what?” 

Y/N scrambles for her phone and seconds later, she’s reading something on it. “‘Honest Mistake - a story about two coworkers with pent up sexual energy’.” She looks away from it and takes a deep breath. “‘I looked at him. Looked at his charming smile, his long curly hair and his annoyingly hot beard. Looked at the stupid clothes he was wearing; a blue sweater he had to have more than one of and a blue pair of jeans that I hoped he washed. And sometimes, I hoped he would throw them all off and take me right there.’” 

She looks up from her phone with an expression Tom is sure mirrors his own; horrified.

“You wanted me to read that?” 

“No, absolutely not. I wrote it when I was drunk and forgot I wrote it. It’s not even good. But I can tell you that it gets rather… explicit.”

Tom smiles. “I do kind of want to read now.” And then thinking that over he stops his thoughts. “Wait, blue sweater, blue jeans. Are you talking about me? Am I the man in the story?” 

Y/N looks away from him, her eyes flicker across the ceiling. When he doesn’t say anything, only patiently wait for her to reply, she glances at him. And, reluctantly, she nods. “Drunk me is not the me I like so don’t hold anything against me. And, can you blame me? You’re good looking.”

Excuse me while I go scream. Tom’s heart pounds so loudly he’s sure she can hear it because she called him good looking. She… has imagined them having sex. She wrote about them having sex. 

“I am not sorry, but I am going to hold this against you.” He tries to press back the smile that wants to form, and not a mocking one but one of pure happiness because god, Y/N thinks he’s good looking. “Any chance I get, where it fits, I’ll use it against you.”

She nods. “I guess that’s fair, seeing as I would do the same to you. But… can you not in front of Chris. I would rather he didn’t know.” 

“Is he the jealous type?” 

“I don’t think so, and we haven’t really established anything, but… It might go somewhere and I don’t want to fuck it up because I was drunk one night and… yeah, did that. Also I’m going to tell him what I told you was something along freaking out about an assignment the students were supposed to hand in or something, ‘kay?”

Tom nods. He wants to tell her that Chris knows, but seeing as to what she said, maybe there’s a reason Chris isn’t telling her. Maybe he hopes it’s something she will just forget and then Chris can rest easier, but Tom doubts it. 

He’s also starting to doubt them getting help out of the elevator. 

“Thanks for calming me down, by the way. I know I said thanks earlier, but talking helped, too. Got my mind off the fact that the walls are closing in on us.” Y/N gives him a strained smile, which he returns. 

“No worries.” He nods at her. “I’m really sorry to ask this first now, but do you have any reception?” 

Y/N looks down at her phone. “Yeah, I do. I’ll call Chris, should’ve thought of that before. Let’s not mention how long we were stuck. How long have we been stuck?”

Tom glances down at his watch. “Looks to be about twenty minutes. Not a lot, but I guess enough.”

“Thank God. I hope it’s not gonna be much longer.”

Tom isn’t sure what he hopes. All he knows is that things might not be as awkward anymore, but he can’t be too sure either. That depends entirely on when he brings up the story. He prays for himself not to fuck up again. 

And if they’re stuck longer, maybe he can pry out why she hated him in the first place. 

---

After getting out of the elevator (and deciding not to go the the gathering), Tom doesn’t meet Y/N until breakfast the next day. 

She’s standing with Chris, leaning into his side and smiling brightly. The two of them are standing with Sebastian, plates in hand but no food. The line doesn’t look like it’s moving. 

Tom doesn’t walk over to them by want, but rather because he’s waved over by Sebastian who sees him―probably sick of third wheeling the lovely ‘couple’. 

“Hi,” says Tom as he gets close. He smiles slightly, meets Y/N’s gaze and her slightly awkward smile. When they said bye after getting out of the elevator, it hadn’t been awkward. When they’d been stuck for another twenty minutes, it hadn’t been awkward. But, perhaps, has Tom taken his luck in advance? 

“How are you? After yesterday?” Chris smiles at him, he nods to the side to you. “She was pretty shaken up.”

Tom shrugs. “It’s not something I’d like to repeat, no, but I think she took it harder than me.” He tries for a smile, which Chris returns. 

“Based on what she told me, I think that’s true.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and lightly punches Chris in the side. He replies by letting out a little laugh and kissing the top of her head. 

Tom wishes he wasn’t there to see it. Based on Sebastian’s roll of his eyes it’s safe to say he wishes he wasn’t there either. But Tom suspects it’s for entirely different reasons. 

---

“I’m not so sure about this.” Y/N paces back and forth behind the little stage of the conference. It’s almost their turn to go on and, though Tom’s nervous himself, he clearly isn’t as nervous as Y/N. 

He tries to shake his head, put on a smile that tells her it’ll be okay, but he can judge from her reaction that it doesn’t work. 

“Really, Tom, this is, might, will… I don’t know but this will be a disaster.” She throws her hands up. “We haven’t really got a lecture or anything like that, we got a few notes and are relying on people asking questions. What if we get no questions? What if we can’t answer the questions? Do you think they’ll ask about anything not relating to this?”

Tom moves closer to her. He stops her pacing by standing in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, unsure whether that’s to soothe himself (and the burn his touch to Y/N’s shoulders bring) or if it’s to soothe her. “They will probably ask questions, seeing as we were asked to come here, albeit on short notice. But they probably want tips of some sort, and they probably won’t ask anything about anything else. What would they even ask about?”

Y/N nods. A deep breath comes from her lips and she closes her eyes for a moment. “Do you think I have the time to take a shot?”

“A shot? Of alcohol?”

She nods. “I don’t think I can go on without anything in my blood. I’m too nervous. This is like being at a bar and being asked to dance.” 

Tom squints at her. “You need a shot to go to the dance floor when you’re out?”

“Oh, shut up. As if you don’t. I’ve seen you at Christmas parties, you always drink a lot.”

He shakes his head. “I usually drive so that is not true.”

Her brows crease together. “Wait? You’re kidding, right?” Her voice is surprisingly quizzical. 

“No, haven’t Benedict told you? I usually drive him and Sophie.”

Y/N presses her lips together as she shakes her head. She twists out of his grip on her shoulders as well and staggers a step away. But the whisper that comes from her mouth is still easily caught, “so you weren’t drunk when you…?” 

Seeing the look of horror on Y/N’s face, Tom decided he won’t question it. It might be for the best because sometimes, the revelation of someone not being drunk gives you more reason to blame them for something. Now, Tom doesn’t know what he’d be blamed for, but he’s not so sure he wants to know (and he’s not so sure he doesn’t already know). 

When Tom shakes out of his thought, Y/N’s gone and David peeks through the little curtain. He raises a brow at seeing Y/N not there, and Tom shrug because he really doesn’t know where she went―though most likely to the bar. 

“Yer on in a few minutes,” says David, and Tom nods. “She’ll be back to then, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I believe so. But even if she isn’t I think it’ll be okay. I can stall them,” replies Tom. He can hear the nervousness and haste in his voice. So much that he wonders how well David perceives it. 

If he does, the man doesn’t comment on it. He only gives Tom a thumbs up and leaves again. Leaving Tom alone with his beating heart and thoughts because, even if he has a slight inkling as to what Y/N muttered about, he wishes he knew for sure. 

At least, he doesn’t get to dwell too long on the dread, as Y/N reappears moments later. The shaking and the nerves visible on her face before are gone and instead, she’s plastered on a smile. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Tom wants to say something, and he’s about to open his mouth to do so, but in that moment, David calls their names and they’re cheered onto the stage. Both of them walk out and they smile at the little crowd that’s there. 

To be honest, Tom’s been at conferences before, but this one’s been a trainwreck like no other. He wonders how he’s gotten to that point. 

Only, he can’t wonder for long because Y/N has started talking and Tom has to know his cue and chime in. For having been somewhat enemies only a few months ago, you sure work well as a team. 

And eventually (a good fifteen minutes later) they open for questions. Tom expected two or three, maybe a fourth, but all of the first row has their hands up. The whole ordeal has his heart pounding in his chest and he wishes to take off his shirt before he gets two giant sweat rings under his arms. 

With a deep breath, he gets back to reality. Y/N’s already answered the first question and is moving on to the next. Tom tries to follow. 

“What made you decide to do team teaching in the first place?” asks a woman at the front row. 

Tom nods. “Well, we didn’t really decide ourselves. At the start of this we had our differences, we probably still have a lot of them, but we were forced to figure something out and agreed that the best for the students would be to have two teachers with different aspects on what’s important, thus enriching their experience as a class.” 

That was not a practiced answer. 

A man rises as Y/N points at him. “What had you be forced to work together? That seems like a rather stupid idea if you had that many differences.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N smiles and nods, “we’ve kinda been enemies for a while and one of the reasons we decided this would be the best was because neither would give up the class and I found out later that it was HR’s plan to make us get along. We’ve been put in the same position yet again throughout the semester to make us become friends.”

“Are you friends now?”

“I’d say we are, yeah.” Y/N casts a glance over at Tom. A small smile colors her face. “Though I still have my annoyances, and he probably has his, we’re better at talking about them, and we would never do anything to make our students uncomfortable or lash out at them if we were to be mad at each other.”

Tom notices Chris has his hand up, and he nods to the man to answer. He stands up, eyes flickering between the two of them. “What’s the worst that has happened? A fight, any good insults you remember?” 

“Now, Chris, that’s not really about team-teaching is it.” Y/N casts him an unamused look, but she shakes her head and opens her mouth again. “But, the worst that has happened is probably some of the insults we throw at each other from time to time. My quip is usually about his dick and how that’s his brain and he usually doesn't have any good ones.”

A laughter rises through the crowd and Tom shakes his head. “Are you sure? I thought we had agreed you were obsessed with me? I recall you saying it yourself, in fact.” 

And that’s how the lecture takes a one-eighty and the two of them goes back and forth with insults at each other. The crowd laughs, someone shouting out that they should have their own comedy show or a comedy special. 

Tom can’t say he agrees, but he enjoys being back in familiar territory of making Y/N feel a little smaller. He can see she doesn’t take anything he says very hard, seeing as she knows as well as him that it’s all a play. 

Despite that, he’s grateful when David steps up on the stage and asks if anyone has any other questions. When no one has any, he asks for an applause and Y/N and Tom walk off the stage. 

It’s surprising how fast her mood changed. From completely terrified before, to laughing and smiling and actually giving Tom a hug. He relishes in it, takes in the fresh smell of her perfume and tries to mirror her enthusiasm. 

He leaves the job for Chris when he comes back, and lets his mind wander to the many possibilities of what can happen next. 

There’s still two days left of the conference and Tom has a breaking heart at the thought of seeing her kiss Chris more than the few times than he’s seen it already. 

He’d been happy when Y/N had said on Halloween they were friends, but he can’t say he’s happy with being her friend when the tapes over his heart falls off one by one and his lungs ache at the sight of her with someone else. 

Tom hopes he won’t have to suffer long. He’s not sure he can take much more.

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan

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[smoljoelito]

Advice on How to Be a Straight A Student

Hey guys! So I got a señor anon question on how to be a straight A student and my response got a bit long, so here it is in a text post. 

Before I begin, I’d like to say I’m not an expert on this subject. This is just stuff that works for me.

So a little background information before I give some advice!

I’m a sophomore in University, majoring in nursing, minoring in Spanish. I graduated high school with a 3.73 GPA, and the problem was I figured out how to study best for myself the second semester of my senior year of high school! So, I got to college and was freaking out. At my university, the lowest excepted GPA to get into the Fall 2018 nursing program was a 3.83, which is INCREDIBLY high. Never in my life did I think I’d be able to get that GPA, since high school made me feel dumb. I was encouraged to take AP classes and I took too many, and while other kids succeeded, I fell behind. It made me feel incredibly incapable, yet, for money for my district, I was still encouraged to take more. Come Fall 2018, taking classes for pre-nursing to be able to apply into the program, I was a nervous wreck. I lacked self-confidence and I was praying for a 3.8 GPA, but I decided to make a promise to myself. My confidence wasn’t great enough to promise a 4.0 GPA for all my prereqs, but it was for the first semester just so I didn’t have to worry as much second semester about keeping my GPA high. Yet, against all my beliefs, I 4.0′d all my pre-nursing/pre-reqs classes, got into the Fall 2019 nursing program (I start September 4th), where usually 300 students apply, but only 72 are selected in the fall, 97 in the winter. I also received a 4.0 in a summer microbiology class that was originally 14-16 weeks long during the school year, but it was shortened into 6 weeks into the summer, made it onto the Dean’s List, and so much more. My new goal is to be one of And now, I’m going to tell you how I did it.

Here is what I wish someone would’ve told me when I started high school or college:

First things first, you HAVE to believe in yourself. This is VITAL.

If you walk into a class telling yourself you’re barely going to pass, chances are, you’re barely going to pass. You are your biggest enemy. Chemistry is a subject, it is not a person, it doesn’t decide whether or not you’re going to pass or fail. It’s literally a class, it holds absolutely NO power over you. It literally just exists. The only thing that holds power over you, is you. You decide your future, not Chemistry. When you say, “Oh I’m so bad at Chemistry, I’ll never pass.” Chemistry had absolutely nothing to do with it, it was ALL you. The class you hate and think you’re going to fail should be your favorite and top priority. Why? Because you’re going to have to spend the MOST time on it. If you cut yourself short by saying you’ll never pass right off the bat and ignore the class, the harsh reality is, you allowed yourself to fail. Stop telling yourself that you are unable to do things, then complain when you get bad scores. Chemistry is difficult, but nothing is impossible.

My quote for this section:

“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that things are difficult.” Seneca

Find your best way to study, preferably before college rolls around.

For me, this is flashcards, but I don’t just use them for memorizing, I use them for connecting. I make questions that connect things from the chapter I’m in along with prior chapters. Here’s an example:

On a person in anatomical position, which bone in the forearm can be located more medial to the body?

This, is a great question. Not only am I asking location, but I’m referencing prior topics at the same time. Anatomical position is lying flat on your back with palms facing outward. Medial is something that is closer to the midline of the body. Both of which are terms learned in previous chapters. Knowing this, I would be lead to believe the answer is the ulna. Now, I have not only learned, but reviewed.

My quote for this section:

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence is then, not an act, but a habit.” Will Durant.

ASK QUESTIONS!

Listen guys, I’m blunt and a bit harsh, so here’s a reality check for you: I don’t care whether or not you are shy, extroverted, confident, not confident, whatever, there’s NO excuse to say you don’t understand a topic if you’re not willing to ask questions to gain more knowledge or better understand it. If you receive a bad grade in a class and never ask questions or try to better understand it, shame on you. Don’t blame your professor, don’t blame the class for being “too hard”, I don’t want to hear it. So, in this section, I’m going to tell you how to ask a good question and who to ask.

Who:

First, your professor/teacher obviously. Don’t be afraid, most professors don’t bite. They’re not going to get annoyed with you. Their job is literally to talk about what they love, for hours on end. Everyone’s favorite topic is themselves, their hobbies, anything that correlates around them. If you ask them a question deeper than the material provided, out of confusion, or just for further knowledge, chances are they’d LOVE to answer it for you! Bonus: the more questions you ask, the more they’ll know you, and the more they’ll be willing to help you, especially when you’re in a time of need. You don’t need to always ask questions during lecture/class, though it is preferable. If you’re shy or introverted, write down your questions on a sheet of paper, preferably with the slide you’re referencing, then ask after class.

Next, tutors! Most universities have a tutoring center, or if you’re in college, ask a counselor to find you one. If your professor is a bit intimidating for you, or flat out doesn’t want to answer questions, this is a GREAT idea! It’s much easier to talk to someone in your age range as well, so if you’re a super shy person, this might be a better option for you. Also, the tutors aren’t the experts of the subject, which plays in your favor. They know how to break the subject down into ways you’ll be able to understand, sometimes in better ways than your professor. 

Lastly, anyone that has taken the class before you. In nursing school, they recommend we make friends with someone that’s in the year above us and attach ourselves to them, which I plan on doing. They’ve experienced everything before you, so you’ll have the freshest advice. Which prof should I take? Ask them. Do I need to buy the book for this class? Hmm... they’ll know.

Good questions:

Connecting questions. When you link two topics together, preferably from another chapter, you’re learning in the BEST way possible. Ask the question. Your professor will love you, the class will love you, and you will love you, because more than likely, your professor will either: agree with the connection, disagree with the connection and tell you where you went wrong (still learning), and congratulate you on your good question. It’s a win-win situation.

another very important point: even if you are wrong in whatever you are asking, that does NOT make it a bad question. Good questions lead to learning, whether it is agreeing or disagreeing. Humility and humbleness are attractive qualities, and the willingness to do such is probably the best way to be successful. You have to be willing to be wrong to eventually learn and be right.

Any question where you are confused. You paying for a class is paying for your professor to talk. Use your money wisely. Hold up the damn class, get your answer. Learn and grow in your knowledge. Chances are, other people are confused too, and aren’t bold enough to ask.

Why? This might be the best question ever. Actually, I take that back, it is. One word asks fifty other questions and tells 100 more. Here’s what the professor gets out of “why” questions: I might not have explained the topic enough so I’m going to talk about it more, said student wants to know more about the topic, this is a learning opportunity for the class, etc.

My quotes for this section:

“Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears.” Les Brown

“The only bad question is one that you can find the answer to on the syllabus.” Smoljoelito 

“ Excuses are born out of fear. Eliminate your fear and there will be no excuses.” Unknown

When someone asks you if you can help them with something in a class, always say yes, even if you don’t know the answer.

One of the best ways I’ve found that I learn is by explaining things to other people. My friend Molly used to text me a lot during Biology and ask me if I knew what said thing meant or if I could explain said thing better. I always said yes, even if I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. Why? Because obviously, I need to study it too, and what better way than to teach someone else.

The best way to look at information you don’t understand: If someone were to break this down for me, how would I want it to sound to best understand?

So, I’d break it down for her, and we’d both learn something new. Saying “no” would’ve lost me and her a learning opportunity. Also, we were competing for the same spot in the nursing program, but 

My quote for this section (doesn’t fit as well): 

“By doing what you love you inspire and awaken the hearts of others.” Satsuki Shibuya

Elaborative rehearsal

This is a term from psychology. I took this class after Biology, so I never realized this is what I was doing the whole year. Basically, elaborative rehearsal is memorizing information by connecting new information to old information, and it is the BEST way to memorize as I learned in class. This can come in many forms: making an analogy to learn a subject (to memorize transcription in Biology I made a story connecting transcription to pre-gaming and it worked so well), asking questions to connect new topics to prior topics, etc. Every time I break down a subject to better understand it, I try to connect it with something I know, whether it’s past information, pre-gaming, realizing a reason why something happens, anything, and I never forget it.

This section is short so it doesn’t get a quote

Get ahead of your professor (university students and AP students mostly).

The BEST thing I’ve ever done for myself would have to be being ahead of my professors by two and three chapters at a time! Here’s the tea: the busiest time of your semester in school should be the first month. Of course, your first month is the easiest, so you’re probably wondering, why should it be the busiest? Because come one month later, each class is going to start dropping exams, and you’re going to start falling behind. Get ahead early. I just bought my pathophysiology book (August 19th) and my classes don’t start until September 4th. This class is going to kick my ass, so my plan is to kick its ass by starting classes early. It’ll never see me coming.

It’s not just getting prepared for exams, but by even having the chapters prepared ahead of time for a lecture when your professor is lecturing, it’s no longer learning, but understanding. Instead of trying to pick up on everything the prof is saying, you’re being reminded of things noted in the book, things you remember, and also things you need further clarity on. Instead of reading the chapter after and having an “oh shit what does this mean?” moment, you can figure it out during lecture. Bonus: if your prof doesn’t lecture on it, ask for further clarity on the subject anyway. You might get lucky and be told not to worry about it. It may not be on the exam at all.

Start early, get ahead, thank me later.

My quote for this section:

“Do something today that your future self will thank you for.” Sean Patrick Flanery 

Take notes! (if they help you)

All the studyblrs are gonna hate me for this, but I really don’t take notes. I have a Microsoft Surface Book 2 laptop and the screen detaches from the keyboard so I write right on the PowerPoints my teachers have, then turn them into flashcards. Why? Because it’s like portable notes. For me personally, when I stopped wasting so much time on notes for Biology, I got higher test scores. Instead of writing notes, I spent the time going over my flashcards. And instead of taking notes on the chapters outside of class, I’d read them twice before class, highlight stuff, then make flashcards off the things not gone over in class. It worked better for me. Even in psychology, I’d highlight the things my prof went over on the PowerPoints, then make flashcards after class. For me, I function better by paying attention to what the prof is saying, rather than focusing on writing every word down. 

Classes I’ve taken that you are more than welcome to ask me questions about in my ask:

Here are classes I have taken, some from high school, some from college. I will answer to the best of my ability, or find you things that are more equipped to answer them.

Biology 1 (uni)

Intro to Chemistry (uni)

Intro to Logic (uni)

Intro to Organic Chemistry & Biochemistry (uni)

AP Calculus AB (high school)

General Chemistry (high school)

Organic Chemistry (high school)

Anatomy & Physiology (uni & high school)

Algebra, Pre-Calc, math in general (high school)

Physics (high school)

Intro to Psychology (uni)

Spanish 1-4, AP Spanish 4, AP Spanish 6 (high school)

AP Language & Culture and AP Literature & Culture

AP Chemistry (high school)

Any kinda Art

Also, if you have questions about high school or college, anything at all, feel free to ask me!

Other things to help you!

studyblrs! They have masterlists of how to take notes, stationery to buy that's cheap, what to write down in lecture, etc. If you want me to link some, send me an ask.

I’m a stationery fanatic as well, so if you guys want cheap pens that are high quality, good highlighters, paper, useful things, etc, hmu. I can make a whole amazon wishlist.

Tutoring centers.

Libraries. My uni has a part of the library called The Writing Center where profs will go to help you write essays and such. 

Websites & YouTube. Khan Academy is an amazing resource along with Crash Course, one of my personal faves. For Biology, I used Crash Course a lot and one of my friends used this channel I believe is called the Amoeba Sisters? I can’t remember. If you want the link I’ll find it for you.

Quotes I live by

Whatever your situation, getting the career you’d like, passing a class, graduating valedictorian, here are some quotes to encourage you to keep on going. 

“Deciding what not to do is as important as deciding what to do.” Steve Jobs

“If I quit now, I will soon be back to where I started. And when I started, I was desperately wishing to be where I am now.” Unknown

“When you have confidence, you can have a lot of fun. When you have fun, you can do amazing things.” Joe Namath

“One of the greatest discoveries a person makes is to find out they can do what they were afraid they couldn’t do.” Henry Ford. This quote makes me emotional.

“Self-esteem is the ability to see yourself as a flawed individual and still hold yourself in regard.” Ester Perel

“Do what you dream of doing even while you’re afraid.” Arianna Huffingtin.

“Be the one who decided to go for it.”

“Everything you want to be, you already are. You’re simply on the path to discovering it.” Alicia Keys

“Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your inner voice. Have the courage to follow your own heart and intuition.” Steve Jobs.

“If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.” John Quincy Adams

“If you want something you've never had, you must be willing to do something you've never done.” Unknown

“There is no person living who isn't capable of doing more than they think they can do.” Henry Ford 

“Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it.” Unknown

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” Winston Churchill 

“Success isn't about how your life looks to others. It's about how it feels to you.” Michelle Obama 

In conclusion

I know what it feels like to feel like an idiot, to wish I was as good at something as someone else is. Comparison is the silent killer. The moment you start to think you are less than someone else, you start to believe it. Drop the comparison, let everything go, be humble, and focus on your purpose. There is not a thing you can’t do or be good at. There is not a person in the world that isn’t born with some kind of talent, something they are one of the best at. I have found by “best” and I have grown and learned from it. For a while, I thought I’d fail, that I’d be laughed at and humiliated, but when I let all that go, all the pain, the lies, and focused on my purpose, my goal came as easy as taking a breath of fresh air. So, I leave you with this:

“What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” Robert H. Schuller

#em's tips #study #studying #cnco #school #school help #writing help #success #inspiration #quotes #em's school tips

[strawberriestyles]

Part 5: Ghost Grave

(BANNER BY THE GODDESS HERSELF @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which you try to resolve the case of a fraternity’s haunting in a single night.

Read previous parts here.

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: Here’s the end!! I think it’s probably the most satisfying conclusion I’ve written to date but you let me know lolol. Please enjoy!

There’s no way to tell how long you’ve been sitting here, dirt caking your hands and staining your fingernails. It could be minutes or hours. The pain in your leg is still thick and pulsing but you have yet to look past your skirt, terrified that you might find bone protruding from flesh. Instead, you sob with your eyes directed toward the concrete ceiling.

The fallen flashlight rests just beside one of your hands, beam illuminating the body which lays crumpled mere feet from you in this pit, this unmarked grave. It is only visible in your periphery.

Your thoughts have slowed, stalled, unable to venture any further back than the memory of your fall. But now your mind races to catch up, to connect the string of individual memories into something coherent. Of course you drew a solid conclusion at the very moment you first saw the skeleton in this room, but you have only now been able to process the truth of your situation.

Harry’s name leaves your lips before you’ve fully formed the idea of him. But nothing answers, only the very distant thump of music. You could almost convince yourself that the bass is all in your head.

“Harry,” you whisper again. The light beside you flickers and you can finally force yourself to lower your gaze, but still you see nothing new. “Please."

“Y/N, I didn’ know.”

The voice is so sudden and strange and close that you shift away from it. Your leg screams in protest and you let out a breathy shriek.

“Don’ move.”

You turn your head in the direction of the words, which sound garbled and thin, nothing more than a movement of air. Harry stands there beside you in the pit, his eyes unblinking and his body stock-still. But neither of these visuals is what unnerves you. It’s the transparency of him, the wispy form through which you can see the very solid skeleton—the very empty shell of what he once was.

You stare through him, see through him, and neither of you speaks for some time.

“Harry, when did you die?” Your voice is hoarse, thick, more real than anything else that surrounds you, or so it feels. Your eyes focus on the blurred outline of him and he stares back at you.

“Halloween of 1986.” He bends down as he speaks until his face is mere inches from yours. This close, you can see dirt smeared along his cheek. He looks just how you remember seeing him throughout the rest of the house, just dirtier and…less. “What year is it?”

“2019.”

There’s a sound like a shocked sigh and you can feel air pass over the edges of your face. It makes you shiver, and suddenly the cold that you’ve felt at random points throughout the night intensifies. Your arms curl around your abdomen. Your stomach is churning. This man in front of you, this ghost, is almost boyish in his confusion. And you are cold to the very center of your being.

“Why did you bring me down here? To find you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. I didn’ know. I thought—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head once more. “I didn’ remember any of it. Not until we got in here. Not until I saw my body—or my bones, I guess.” He scoffs. "Love, I didn’ know I was dead.”

You feel like you really could be sick. You almost wish he’d led you here purposely. This way is so much more tragic.

“What happened?”

Harry sighs. “No one was home and I was about to leave for a party. I just—I came downstairs because the power went out and then I found that space in the wall and…I fell. The same way you did."

You try to picture Harry—this man that you’ve known for only a single night but who feels so familiar already—stumbling through the dark alone, falling and suffering here where you currently sit. The fear and pain and loneliness he must have felt. “How long were you here for?”

“I died right away. Must’ve hit my head. Or broken my neck. One or the other.”

It’s a relief, somehow. You ache to touch him, to comfort him or yourself, you’re unsure.

“What even is this place?”

“I dunno. And I doubt the landlord actually knows it’s here. He would’ve said somethin’. Would’ve at least checked when I went missin’.” Harry sighs. “Y/N, ‘m sorry.”

“What?”

“I didn’ mean to drop yeh. ’S just—I was holdin’ on to yeh one second and then I couldn’ hold on to anythin’.”

“How does that even work? You’ve been touching me all night. I—“ Blood rushes to your face as you remember the time you spent in his bedroom. Well, what was once his bedroom. And the hoodie you’ve stolen from a closet that no longer belongs to him. “I could feel you touching me.”

“Could yeh?”

“Yes, I—”

Suddenly, you’re not so sure. Could it all have been in your head? Surely not. No, even when you weren’t looking, he pulled you away from the falling attic ladder and tweaked your shoulder. He broke the rungs of a ladder all on his own. He was solid beneath your fingers, if only a little slippery. It just doesn’t seem possible when he’s here in front of you in a flickering form. You reach your hand forward and it slides through him with little more than a chill. He blinks slowly.

“Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, shifting toward you like he’s chasing your touch.

Perhaps it wasn’t all in your head, but maybe it was a joint effort. A manifestation of your imagination and Harry’s obliviousness to his own death. After all, he only faded after he’d seen his empty body.

“Yeh need to get out of here, love. Can tell yeh’re tryin’ not to look at it, but your leg isn’t in great shape. No one’s gonna find yeh down here. And I don’ think they’ll be able to hear you either.”

He’s right, you’re sure. But the mere thought of trying to get up makes your head spin. Pain still lances needle-sharp through your leg, up from your ankle to your kneecap and back down.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yeh have to. Now, get up.”

Harry stands again. He watches you expectantly, and despite your reluctance, you press your back into the wall of the pit. The edge from which you fell is above you but it looks incredibly far away. You close your eyes and hold your breath as you press upward. Although you put all of your weight on your good leg, you have to grit your teeth against the jolting agony of your injured limb as your heel drags across the ground. It’s close to unbearable, but you power through. When you’re upright, you tilt your head back and your heart plummets.

“I can’t reach that,” you whisper.

“You need to try,” Harry insists.

With a huff, you spin yourself around. The force of your movement twists your leg so roughly that you cry aloud. Harry is at your side, his hands extended toward you but missing the pressure that his touch should carry. His face is drawn and creased, so human, so life-like. And you reach your fingers up the wall and there are still too many feet between you and the lip of that floor.

“Are yeh okay?”

“No.” You let out a pathetic sob, lower your hands, and lean your forehead to rest against the back of one. Tears leak down your cheeks and leave your face feeling stiff and sticky. “Harry, I need you to help me.”

“How?”

“I’m not gonna be able to pull myself out of here.”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’ lift yeh. I can’ even touch yeh.”

“I know, I know. I need you to tell someone I’m down here.”

“Y/N.” Harry tilts his head like he pities you. That’s not right. He’s the dead one. You’re still alive. You still have a chance, but it depends on him. “No one else can see me.”

“What?”

“I felt like I was drawn to you when yeh got here tonight. Like—like yeh were open somehow. And I didn’ know why, but I guess we know now.”

“Please, Harry. I need you to try.”

“Love, I was just up there tryin’. The whole time yeh’ve been sittin’ here. I was upstairs and I couldn’ get a single person to acknowledge me.”

Your head spins all over again and you sink down to the ground, screaming as you jostle your bad leg. Your eyes finally catch sight of your injury and although there’s no visible bone, the limb is angled strangely. The contents of your stomach threaten to empty but you swallow against rising bile. You yell for help as an overwhelming anxiety, a helplessness overtakes you.

“I’m going to die down here with you,” you choke out between sobs. Harry only watches from above, his lips pressed tightly together, eyebrows drawn low. He waits until you’ve cried yourself out, until you’ve calmed yourself back to the silent, contemplative state you sat in while he was upstairs. Then he crouches down in front of you.

“Yeh’re not gonna die, love. We’re gonna figure somethin’ out, okay? Yeh’re gonna be fine.”

You look into his softened face, contrasted by the determined look in his eyes and the set of his jaw, and you can almost believe him. But the hopelessness of your predicament is overpowering. You let your head rest back against the wall.

“Stop it.” Harry’s hand slides up your wrist, and it shocks you like a bit of static before the sensation fades into nothing again. “I can’ touch yeh and I can’ talk to anyone else, but there’s gotta be somethin’ I can do to help. Think, love. Yeh’re smart enough for this.”

Your cheek lolls onto your shoulder. You let his determination stir your own and you begin to think back through the events of the night. All of the times you felt cold or uncomfortable, the slamming attic door. The darkness of that attic and this basement. The complete loss of power not once but twice tonight, and the flickering of the flashlight bulb when Harry reappeared here beside you.

“The electricity.”

“What?”

You stare down at the light and nod. “You need to short the power again.”

“What?”

“Harry, it’s been you all night. You’re the ghost who’s been causing the power outages. You just need to do it once more so that someone comes downstairs.”

He shakes his head regretfully. “I didn’ do any of that on purpose. It just happened. I didn’ even think it was me doin’ it, love.”

“Well, you know now, and I need you to try. Really hard. Please, Harry.”

He’s frowning, but there’s a look of desperation on his face that you’re sure mirrors your own.

“Please,” you whisper again.

Harry closes his eyes, sighing, threading his fingers together. His face screws up like he’s trying to concentrate, but it’s only a few seconds before he mumbles, “I have no clue what ‘m supposed to be doin’.”

Your head tips forward and you grunt as a muscle in your broken leg twitches.

“Okay, okay,” Harry says as your fist at your hair. He closes his eyes again and this time he stills completely, He stops breathing the air he doesn’t need and ceases the disconcerting flickering at the edges of his form. The flashlight shorts for a quick moment before blinking back to life. Then you’re immersed in darkness again. Your head spins, thoughts circling down a drain, and you hear your name in Harry’s garbled voice before you lose consciousness.

***

When you awake, you can hear voices, distant and urgent and muffled. Dead, you think. I’m dead. An entire army of earth-bound ghosts is parading around you and you’re dead.

“Y/N, you awake?”

When your eyes open, it’s dark as night. There is no flashlight, but you can feel a presence by your shoulder. And then a touch, soft, but very real.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, ’s me.”

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. If you can feel him, you must be, and somehow the thought doesn’t make you as upset as you thought it might.

He chuckles. “After all that work? No, yeh’re not dead, love.”

“What?”

“There are paramedics here. They’re tryin’ to figure out how to get yeh outta here because your leg is broken. And the bigger guys can’ fit through the gap but the women wouldn’ be able to lift yeh out alone.”

Your mind spins and Harry’s knuckles brush at your cheek. “How are you doing that?”

“I dunno. Just want to really bad. Tha’s how I got the power out. Think it was me that made yeh pass out though, love. ‘M sorry. Was like I needed more energy and yeh just kinda…gave it to me.”

“So, someone came downstairs?”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. And the sound is so strong, like he was never a diminished version of himself. “And then I threw the flashlight at him.”

“You what?”

“Well, yeh weren’ conscious, and I wasn’ about to just let him turn the power on and go back upstairs. So, I flung it at the little gap and it rolled into the other room. He couldn’ fit in here, but he called the police.”

“Harry,” you begin, shifting toward him. Your leg twists and you let out a guttural scream.

“Hello?” someone shouts from the main basement. “Miss, we’re coming to get you!”

“Look, we don’ have a lot of time before they get in here and if yeh’re just talkin’ to open air, they’re gonna think yeh’ve gone mad.”

“Or that I’m in shock,” you argue.

“Yeh probably are.”

“Shut up.”

Harry’s fingers whisper along your jaw once more before his touch falls away. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For finding my body.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did, even if you didn’t mean to, even I didn’t mean for you too.” He sighs, and it sounds exaggerated, especially when you realize that he doesn’t need the air that he's moving. “Will you tell my family?”

There’s a thick silence that falls between you, and in it, you hold your breath. “Tell them what?”

“That I didn’ just run away. That I wasn’ murdered. That I didn’ suffer. They probably have no idea what happened to me. Maybe they didn’ even have a funeral. I dunno. Maybe they’ve all died, but I feel like I would know, right?”

You swallow, though your throat’s dry. Harry lays a palm over the back of your hand.

“Please? Just let them know?”

“Of course I will, Harry.”

Then his lips are pressed to your forehead, light and feathery as cotton, and you can feel him smile against your skin. “Oh,” he mumbles, “and I think yeh’ll do just fine as a paranormal investigator, love. Think yeh picked the right major after all.”

When he pulls away, you can feel him stand up, feel him drifting, somehow. “You’re leaving,” you observe, and your voice is more desperate than you expected. “Where are you going?"

There’s shuffling in the crevice that leads to this place as first responders attempt to reach you. Metal scrapes against the concrete walls and people in the basement are still shouting at each other. But you can hear Harry’s voice over all of the din as he says, “The only place I can go. On.” And then he’s gone.

The End

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #see through

[sbwriel-cymraeg]

Eddie Kaspbrak deserved better.

Let me start with this. IT, written by Stephen King, made into a movie in 2017 and then another in 2019, about a clown with a big forehead, who likes dining on children, and gets his ass kicked by a group of teenage misfits (and then again when said misfits are just about past their midlife crisis). It's a horror, it's creepy and it's gross, now you see, I don't do horrors. I'm an absolute wuss. I can't even walk into a creepy abandoned building without a plank of wood in my hand for protection, and at least two people on either side of me who would obviously be kidnapped first (and that gives me enough time to scream and run away). Anyway, I don't like horrors. So you can probably guess that there was no way in hell, or earth, that I would be watching something that involved a terrifying monster who drools as much as a bulldog (he should seriously get that checked). No way I was going to read the book, as much as I love reading, and wouldn't even consider the original from the 90s although the 90s rules the movie scene (don't argue, we all know Jurassic Park is the best movie of all time). But the thing was, I have a friend, and he can be very persuading (in the form of pizza and snacks) and also, I'm a huge McAvoy fan, and James Ransone, I've never seen that guy before but well, when I saw him in the trailer, hello handsome. And don't get me started on Bill Hader, man do I fancy that bloke... Anyway I'm going off topic. So blah blah, we end up sitting down one night, with our buffet and many cups of tea, and weirdly, we start watching IT Chapter 2 first, because he wanted to see it since it was new. I go into it with no bloody clue what was going on, who was who, why parents would let their kid out in the rain by themselves, or how nobody noticed a load of bodies leaking out of the sewer. I was asking alot of questions. But, here's the thing. Onto the whole point of this rant. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. The cute, little, angry man who instantly caught my attention (not just by the fact that Mr Ransone is a handsome S.O.B). From the moment he sped down the road in his posh jeep, yelling at other drivers (I feel your pain Eds) to crashing said posh jeep because he was distracted by a phone call (bad Eddie!) He instantly stole my 28 year old, attracted to dark and handsome older men, heart. Of course, I had no clue about these characters, all I saw was cute, angry man, funny dork with glasses, red headed lady, that guy from New Zealand, man who lasted five seconds, handsome librarian, and Professor X, and of course that clown that lives in the drain. So, as the movie went on, Eddie became my number one (Richie following behind in second). I learnt all about him from my friend, and more about him during the film, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the little bastard. He had a wife that I could tell he didn't love who treated him like doodoo, as a kid his dearest mom was overprotective, controlling and gave him freaking placebos to make him think he was ill (the fuck Mrs K?), that made him so nervous about getting sick and paranoid beyond belief, and I mean, his job wasn't the most exciting. Not to mention he has anxiety worse than a nun in a whore house, and was obviously afraid the most out of the group. And then, AND THEN, the film decides to drop some hints about Richie. Ah, dearest Richie, who has perfect taste in men. He's in love with Eddie. In. Freaking. Love with him. You could tell by the way he was so protective of him, constantly made fun of him (we all know that's how dudes get their crushes attention) and of course, R + E. So, of course, nearing the end of the movie, there's me grinning like an idiot, having the thought of Eddie and Richie getting out of the final fight untouched, Richie declaring his undying love for his Eddie Spaghetti, Eddie admitting his feelings for his Trashmouth, getting a kiss in there, Eds declaring he was divorcing him moth- sorry, wife, and the two walking into the sunset to start a new life together, in a nice cottage in the hills, getting married, having three kids, five dogs, ten cats, and living happily ever after. But then, my hopes and dreams were shattered. Stephen, I'm looking at you. They killed Eddie. THEY KILLED EDDIE! EDDIE! Out of all the FREAKING characters they could have booted off, they chose Eddie the rage monster, the little man with a big personality, the least deserving to freaking die in my opinion. Stephen, how could you? How could you?! Why did he have to die? Why did they have to end his life that way? Why couldn't he have a happy ending like the rest of the Losers? Not including Richie of course. Oh no, they didn't just fuck Eddie over, they also fucked over Richie. Killing the love of his life, right after he saves him, bleeding all over his big ass glasses, calling his name softly, looking at him with his big, brown eyes. Yep, Richie probably went home after the Kissing Bridge and thought about Eddie every damn day of his life. But no, they didn't just kill Eddie, oh no no, they went a step further. They left his body to rot in the sewers. Yes Andy, I'm glaring at you, you evil, evil man. They didn't take the route that Mr King took in his book, or from the original IT movie (yes I watched that later on too) no, Mr A decided to have Eddie die all alone whilst the Losers finished off Pennywise, then have Richie go back and see his dead body, freak out and have hope that they can save him, hug him tight, and not let him go. And then, oh boy, and then, they have Mike and Ben literally FORCE Richie off of Eddie, and DRAG him out of the sewers. WITHOUT EDDIE. I'm sorry Mr Andy, but tell me, how could they, Eddie's best friends, the ones who were always there for him, who they loved and adored, leave Eddie there in the sewers, all alone, in the dark, dirty, graveyard that would have had Eddie crying at the thought? It didn't make ANY sense to me. If Ben and Mike had the strength to drag a struggling, six foot something Richie away from Eddie, then surely they could have picked Eddie up between them, and got him out of there. If I was Richie, I would have decked the lot of them, Losers or not. And that's where I got pretty darn mad. Eddie didn't deserve that shit. For one, he didn't deserve to die. And two, he didn't deserve to be left down there, to slowly decay. He should have been pulled out by his friends, Richie could have had a moment with him, Eddie could have been given a funeral where his friends, and especially Richie could have said goodbye. Then, they'd have had somewere where they could memorialise him, go back and place flowers and silly things like inhalers and red shorts on his headstone, have a get together and remember him and talk to him, somewhere where Richie could always go to, knowing that Eddie was put to rest properly, and somewhere were he could sit and cry to himself, remembering all the fucking good times they had as kids and how god damn hard he fell for the crazy little shit. But, nah, we'll just leave him in the sewers, under a collapsed house, somewhere the Losers wouldn't want to visit again, somewhere they can't have a funeral, can't put Eddie to rest, somewhere that has too many bad memories and would remind everyone of how exactly Eddie lost his life. So yeah, you can say I'm pretty mad about all of that. I know he's a fictional character, but damn, he didn't deserve that shit. Neither did Richie. And to make it worse, when I watched the first movie afterwards, Eddie was just as freaking hilarious, and ridiculous as his older self. Little Eddie was a force to be reckoned with, he was definitely still my favourite even as a kid. The dude who played him, huge kudos to him. How could you not like tiny Eddie? It also showed me a lot more about how Eddie grew up, by that I mean how his mother really did treat him, and boy did I hate the fact that he died even more! So yeah, I may have gone off on one a tad... I couldn't help myself, Eddie Kaspbrak has now got a big place in the fictional character side of my heart. Just goes to show just how much actors can make an impact on people's lives, and how real they make them seem! So, I've said my part, and it's pretty obvious what I think about the ending to Mr Spaghetti's story. Encase you didn't get how I feel about it, it sucked. Eddie Kaspbrak should have lived. Should have had a second chance, especially with Richie! Not all movies follow the ending of books, so why did this one have to? Why did Ben and Redhead get to have a happily ever after and Richie and Eddie didn't? Why didn't they at least make his death meaningful and give him the send off he deserved? In other words, Eddie deserved better. That should be the motto of the movie. That's me signing off, I'm going to go be mad somewhere else, because I'll never get over this movie. I'm a huge fan now, but man, the ending was as bad as Bill's endings. Oh and uh, fuck you Pennywise. Oh, also, if anyone's going to Wales Comic con this Saturday (you should, because James Ransone will be there, I know right, what are the chances?) come say hi. I'll be dressed in a yellow raincoat and green wellies, holding a red balloon... Don't ask why, I just like the colours. See you later, Losers.

#Eddie Kaspbrak #it #James Ransone #Richie tozier #it chapter 2 #reddie

[pearlnwade]

LEMONADE

I have often considered myself beautiful and attractive; but not on days like this. Welcome to the real-world Olly.

I’d always been excited about NYSC because it was my only way out from my father’s house. I’ll have the opportunity to move to a different state—far from Lagos —and gain a great level of independence. Really, that was all I wanted, and at the beginning, it seemed like a perfect plan.

On the 8th of January 2019, at about 7am, I got what was long coming—the official end of my already dead relationship. If I’m being honest, I’d seen it coming from a mile away. So when it finally happened, I didn’t even know how to react. There was just complete uncertainty and it literally sent chills down my spine. The 8th of January was also the day I was leaving for Abuja, to start my NYSC —the next and exciting chapter in my life. Sadly, the dream of going through this phase of life with a partner to share it all with, was now nothing but shards of a beautiful glass. I got on a plane to Abuja that evening and convinced myself that I was going to be alright, I’m a strong woman after all. But honestly, I wasn’t even close to it. And one thing I was sure of is: no matter how much you try to hide your feelings and lie to everyone that you are okay, YOU JUST CAN’T LIE TO YOURSELF.

The 9th of January 2019 was initially dedicated to rounding up my NYSC registration, but everything took a wrong turn when my phone got stolen. I rushed to the Airtel office to get my sim disabled, but they said that they couldn’t do it unless I swore an affidavit. Can things just get any worse? Yes, it just began.

On the 10th of January 2019, I went to the court to get a sworn affidavit. Before going there, I withdrew 3k, just in case I need to pay for whatever was required. But little did I know it was a wrong move. After I got my affidavit, I followed my friend to Jos — I had planned to do this for a while—I needed somewhere to cool off. You know, blow off some steam. I love Jos for one particular reason: cheap and beautiful nails! It's crazy how affordable it is compared to other parts of Nigeria and I really wanted to do my nail. Like I said, blowing off some steam.

The next morning, I arrived at the salon and of course, I picked the best style. I had N2,200 with me, and the total of my nails cost N2,400. So, I told the nail artist that I had only N2,200 cash that I didn’t want to spend my entire cash at hand. I also made her understand that I’d have transferred to her, but I couldn’t send money because I had no phone. To ease her worry, I told her to hold on to my purse and N2,000 of the total amount I had; I was going to get a keke ride to the ATM to withdraw some cash. When I got to the ATM, I made the request to be dispensed N3,000 and the response was “insufficient funds”. I was confused. I made a second request for N1,000 and it said the same thing. Now, in the midst of strangers I was about to just lose it. I decided to check the total of what was in my account and I saw N4. Wait what! Four naira? It’s a joke right? Everything I felt that day is like a scar in my skin right now, because as I type these words, I feel the rush all over. Anyway, I put myself together and went home. Basically, I had no relationship, no phone and no money—all within 3 days. Wondering if I didn’t pay for those nails? Well, thankfully, I did. My friend helped me pay the rest for the nails. God bless you Emily. My trip back to Abuja that Sunday was a reflective one. And the worst part was I felt that I deserved every single thing that happened to me. Did I?

I indulged in a couple of dates afterwards: to remind or convince myself that I could still be desired by men; anything to find value in an empty space. I was broken, but tried my best to keep working— it’s how I have been programmed to act, since I was a girl. On days like this, I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt stuck, like there was a bottomless pit of lacking that I desperately wanted to fill. I didn’t feel smart and I didn’t trust anyone.

My ex came to Abuja, (we had reconnected a couple weeks before he arrived) so I had my hopes up that things were going to get a lot better. But it didn't. Infact, I had never felt that disrespected in my life, I felt so little and helpless. “Certain things happen for things to get better”- Olly. Hold on to that quote because I sure didn’t. I know that if I did, my emotions would have been more defined to make me stronger not to break me down.

“It’s time to move out of (my ex’s friend’s) house” my ex told me before he left for Lagos. To avoid further humiliations and belittling, and to keep my boss babe rep, I told him that I had a place to stay. But I didn’t. I had no single idea where I was going to stay. That Sunday when he left, I decided that I was going to call a couple people and if push comes to shove, I will rent my own place. The push came to shove and I started pulling funds—from my parents and my brother really. I raised enough money just for the house rent. The cost of ordinary foam to sleep on was yet unaffordable. I was so sad, continuously asking myself if coming to Abuja was the best option for me.

On a special Wednesday, I had to leave the house that I was staying in, after having packed all my things in less than 15 minutes. By exactly 9:56pm, I entered my cab with my luggage, on the move in the middle of the night looking for where I could rest my head. Now, I had a couple options, unfortunately, 99% of them wanted to sleep with me, but my 1% was Diamond. She did a lot for me throughout my early stay in Abuja. She was my go-to girl and of course she had my back on days like this. I stayed with her for about five days but had to leave. I had already spent more than N30,000 in search for a house and I still did not have one. I was frustrated and desperate to find a house and I did. You know that phrase “do not make any decision when you are desperate’, I didn’t follow it. I paid for a bad house that I would have spent more than N200,000 to renovate before even buying my bed. I lost N40,000, and because I was losing so much money and wanted a way out, I lost an additional N120,000. At this point, I still didn’t have a house. What is my next step? I thought. I felt no love and zero trust in anyone. Like no one!

MY LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

People always use the phrase “though trouble lasts all night, joy comes in the morning”. I got a phone call on a very special Sunday night. It was my mum telling me that it only gets better, and I am to move into Justice’s house. What?! For real? Everything since then has been sweet and smooth. The end is pretty amazing. I am still looking for the guy that’ll sweep me off my feet, make me feel safe and loved. I am quite happy; and for the first time in a long time, things are finally working out for me. I am still healing, I mean, it takes time, but I am healing. There are parts of this story that weren't typed in this article, but if you ask me out and buy me a drink after this lockdown, I might consider telling you the juicy, intimate details.

I went through most of this without Jesus; I always forget that He is a constant. He was meant to be my constant not anyone else.

Cheers to happiness.

[anieswrld]

ghostin’

pairing: stan x reader (past: richie x reader)

warning: angst, death, crying, and a mention of miscarriage ,just be careful

“i know that it breaks your heart that i’m crying again, over him.”

enjoy.

——————————————————————————

March 8th 2019

It was a typical day with your boyfriend Richie, he had dropped you off at work, now you’re waiting for him to be picked up. He was 40 minutes late. He was never late, you decided he got sidetracked so you went back inside. You overheard your coworkers talking about somebody who got hit by a semi truck on highway 394. That was the way Richie took to get you. You walked over to your coworkers Lilly and tapped her. “Do you know anything else about the crash...?” She nodded and read the news article, “20 year old male with the only identification being his last name Tozier found on a letterman jacket. Killed on scene...” You dropped to your knees and sobbed so loud that the people on the top floor would hear you. Lilly noticed that the last name was your boyfriends and called the next number on your phone, Stan.

 “Hello Stan, this is y/n’s coworker Lilly, she found out about a car crash Richie was in- yes i’m so sorry for your loss, could you come get her, she’s really worked up- yes- yes thank you, sorry for your loss again Stan.” Lilly hung up, kneeling down beside you and rubbed your back. “Honey Stan will be here to come get you, call me if you need anything” You nodded and hugged your knees, not even 10 minutes later Stan came in and picked you up and put you in his car. He tried so hard not to cry, but Richie was his best friend, but he needed to stay strong. “S-Stan?” He looked at you “Yeah?” You looked down and played with the hem of your skirt. “Do you know any deatails, like what he was wearing or how it happened?” He nodded and ran a hand through his messy curls. “He was wearing his black sweats with a Queen t-shirt on with his highschool letterman jacket.” Stan reached into the back seat, grabbing the letterman, the only thing being recovered from the accident. You took it from his hands and cried into it, out of curiosity you reached into the pockets and found a ring with a note Stan read to you because you were too shaken up. “Remember to propose to y/n.” You laughed a little knowing that only Richie would have to remind himself to propose. “H-He is- was so stupid sometimes.” Stan nodded, “How about you stay at my house for a bit.” You nodded and tried your best to stay calm.

[present day, january 13th 2020]

Almost a year has passed since Richie’s accident. You ended up moving in with Stan, unable to sleep alone at night. You also ended up falling in love with him, despite crying at night about Richie. He helped you through it though, he knew how it felt, but he also understood how it was different. You started to hate yourself because you wouldn’t stop crying about him. Usually Stan would hold you and listen and calm you down, tonight was different. You were up crying again and Stan got up and went to check on you. “y/n baby?” You looked at him “You okay babe?” You stood up, “No I am not okay! I cant get over this stupid loss! It wasn’t even Richie’s fault! He got hit and n-nobody even fucking c-cares anymore!” Stan’s eyes went from soft to sad within your rant.

“Y/n you do know that he was under the influence right?! He had a drinking problem! And I do fucking care! That was my best fucking friend, and he made a stupid fucking mistake and I just have to pity you- as if Im not in pain everyday because Richie isn’t here and I know you don’t love me like you loved him! I know I’m the second option which is why you chose me!” You blinked before softly speaking, “He was d-drunk?” Stan nodded. “S-Stan I love you, it’s just that I-I will never love someone like I loved h-him. I hate myself for making you watch me s-suffer and cry over your best friend. I p-promise you’re not just a second option Stan! It’s just that it’ll never be like what I had with R-Richie...” Stan nodded and went into his closet and pulled out two scrapbooks titled ‘my best friend.’ You smiled opened it, seeing pictures of Richie and Stan in 5th grade, a year before you came into their lives. Richie always had a dorky smile, a smile you wish you could’ve seen that day after work. He had a smile that could light a room up. You looked at the scrapbook seeing tears drop onto the pages, you glanced at Stan and saw him crying. You were too busy thinking about you to notice that Stan was hurting. He flipped through until he got to senior prom, Richie was wearing this god awful blue suit, while you wore a black dress. Stan wore a suit, you three went together despite Stan being a third wheel. He flipped into the other one finding a picture from the baby shower you and Richie had before you suffered a miscarriage.

For some reason the loss of Richie will always be worse than your baby. You looked at how happy Richie was in the picture and remembered all the times he’d mention a stupid baby name. Stan flipped back because then he found his favorite picture. It was of you three on the beach smiling and being happy. Stan flipped back to graduation and smiled at how happy Richie looked that day. “H-He thought he wasn’t good enough for graduating...but he did S-Stan” You looked at Stan “This was the happiest i’ve ever seen him without you there y/n” You were at graduation but nowhere near the two boys. “He was so happy he bought us an apartment.” You laughed at your Boyfriends stupidity. You would never call him your ex because you didn’t choose to lose him. Stan closes the albums, putting them back where they belong. “Let’s get some rest y/n” You nodded deciding it wasn’t the time to ask about further details on Richies accident. You laid your head on Stans chest and finally got a full nights sleep since march of 2019. You finally felt some closure with the whole thing. You got through this, you got past this.

——————————————————————————

@homosexualkaspbrak i’m sorry bub

#richie tozier imagine #it 2017 #losers club #beverly marsh #stanley uris #stan uris #imagine

[wellyoucantliveinfear]

There’s Something Rotten in Las Vegas (It’s Clexacon)

Hey y’all, I’m back again with my feelings about Clexacon. This is my 3rd year going to the convention, and sadly it’ll likely be my last. This will be a longgggggg post, so I’ll be putting it under a cut. So if you want to hear about my experience at Clexacon 2019, here you go:

Show! Me! The! Money! (No Seriously, Where’s it Going???)

One of my biggest concerns (among the many that I have) is how this convention is now an opportunity to grab as much money as it can from its LGBTQ audience. I’ll start with the con itself, and then work all the way through to its “affiliates”.

If you wanted to do anything at Clexacon that was not the actual convention itself, you were required to pay an additional fee. I personally went to the Academic Lab, which was an additional $75 on top of the regular $160 3-Day Pass ticket price. The Creator Lab was also the same day and was also an extra $75. Ascension, the Saturday night party, was $50. There was also a comedy show, and unfortunately I don’t have the info on how much that was. And sure, you might say, “Well Morgan, those are all extra events that are optional, so maybe paying for ‘opting in’ makes sense!”. Okay, sure, but there are also plenty of conventions that have additional, “opt in” events that are free for attendees.

Let’s use Dragon Con for example, as I live in Atlanta and am the most familiar with that one currently. Dragon Con has a TON of extra events, including a wrestling show, a burlesque revue, and dance parties. Most of these events are completely free as long as you have your convention badge. The events that aren’t free? An awards banquet and a HUGE ball with celebrity guests. There’s even an academic track for panels, which is also free. And okay, yes, Dragon Con is gigantic and is already established in the convention circuit. There are even smaller conventions that are doing free events too. I lived in Cincinnati for years and went to the Cincinnati Comic Expo, which is much smaller but still runs free events for attendees. So it is doable.

There also needs to be attention drawn to the fact that every organization attached to the “Clexacon” name is ran/owned by the same handful of people (NOTE: The two people in question will not be named here as I do not want to open myself to them potentially taking legal action. However everything stated here is either my experience, the noted experience of others, or easily accessed through organization websites, particularly the website for The Visibility Fund). Those people own and operate Clexacon, DASH Productions, and DASH Photos. They are also on the board for The Visibility Fund, a non-profit organization that gained funds from the Cocktails for Change event hosted at Clexacon this year. Prior to the removal of the Clexacon staff page online (which was removed promptly after the convention ended), the names of people from Tellofilms were also included as staff for the convention. It is deeply concerning that all of the money is being funneled in/through a small number of organizations ran by a small number of people. When I teach Media & Culture I always warn my students of the dangers of a small handful of people owning the means of creation. Often when that occurs, the limits on what the audience is able to see get smaller and smaller, focused on the wants of the corporations and businesses. It seems that Clexacon is moving in that direction.

Who’s Running the Show?

The organization of this year’s Clexacon was a complete and utter mess. I’ll start with the mismanagement of the Vendor Hall. While there was more space in the Vendor Hall this year, this did not lead to better promotion by the Clexacon staff. With the Photo Ops being moved upstairs, the hall was not as cramped, but it did remove a large source of foot traffic for the vendors. A logical next step would have been for Clexacon to tweet something about the Vendor’s Hall to push that foot traffic back into the space, but that did not happen. Instead, the traffic continued to flow upstairs and into the large panel room, with people only coming into the Vendor Hall through word of mouth or to get autographs. As someone who was in the Vendor Hall this year and last year, I noted a significant decrease in foot traffic, and other vendors I talked to noticed it too. This doesn’t even take into account the issues concerning the inconsistent pricing of vendor tables. I cannot speak further about this as I wasn’t involved, but there are multiple tweets in the #clexapocalypse hashtag with more info.

There were also issues with volunteers checking badges and other forms of “security” during the weekend. There were multiple instances where I walked into the Vendor Hall and no one checked my badge. There were instances where I walked into the Vendor Hall without a badge on, and no one questioned me. Bags were rarely being checked. I’m not advocating for more security at Clexacon. I’m against having heavier security or “police” in a queer space, especially a space where queer folks of color are present. However, there at the very least should be volunteers present to make sure that people without badges can’t walk in. Why on earth would I buy a $160 badge if anyone can just walk into the space?

Photo Ops were also a disaster. My friend and I bought a Photo Op for Chantal Thuy and Nafessa Williams. Not only was the picture very washed out, but when we asked about getting an extra print for one of us, we were told by volunteers that extra prints wouldn’t be available, and if we wanted them we’d have to “wait for the digital print and get it printed at a Fed Ex or something”. Y’all, I’ve been to multiple conventions and not once have I not been able to get another print at the con. They also said that it would take nearly two weeks for us to get the digital print, as “it’s just one person processing all of the images”. WHAT. That’s completely unacceptable. Other folks I spoke to at the convention cited similar issues, including being charged for Photo Ops that they didn’t get and poorly shot photos.  

Finally, there’s the issue of leadership for this convention. In the previous section I outlined an issue with the heads of Clexacon running multiple organizations connected to Clexacon, which appears to be fairly well known on the internet. What might be less well known is that after last year’s Clexacon, those people pushed out one of the original organizers for the convention. This person questioned the concerning direction the convention was taking and not only were their concerns invalidated, they were given no choice but to walk away from staff and were asked to not return to the convention this year. (Note: slight edit made to previous sentence based on new information) After the removal of that person, the convention morphed into what was presented this year. As you might have noticed on Twitter, many of the Clexacon staff resigned from their positions through each of them sending a public statement tweet. Of my knowledge of the situation, this was due to the management issues concerning the heads of Clexacon, as well as problems with how their labor was used (or misused) by those heads. When multiple people exit their jobs within an organization, that signals an issue with how that organization is run. I hope people will look deeper into this issue than what I’ve outlined here.  

I’m going to move on now to more “identity based” issues. I wanted to get all the money bullshit out of the way first because I have a lot of fucking Feelings about how people were continually marginalized at this convention and I didn’t want to run out of anger steam before talking about the money.

Concerns About Accessibility (I Have Them)

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, DO I HAVE CONCERNS. First, let’s review what occurred before Clexacon happened. Multiple people contacted Clexacon with issues attached to their unclear accessibility policy, with many getting poor responses or no responses at all from the staff. Eventually the outcry on Twitter prompted the staff to issue a new statement about accessibility, which was initially done so through an image on Twitter…which was not accessible to those with screen readers. They later reissued the statement through multiple tweets, but this would be foreshadowing of things to come. They stated they were talking to people well versed with ADA compliance knowledge, but it’s clear that either they didn’t do that at all, or they did and then chose to not follow them. This showed at the actual convention itself.

First was the issues with obtaining the program itself. They didn’t have any paper programs available this year, instead telling everyone to use the app. Well, that app was only accessible half the time because getting wifi was impossible, and cell service was horrible in the con space. Also, having the programs through the app only meant that they were assuming everyone had a cell phone and were able to use it throughout the entire con. I’ve been to conferences/conventions where they’ve had digital programs, but there’s always the option of getting a paper program if that works better for you. Not having those options got in the way of people being able to plan what events they were going to. 

From just my experience at Clexacon, there was not enough accommodation made for attendees who were deaf or hard of hearing. There were multiple panels, including panels in the large room, that did not have an interpreter present. There were also clearly not enough interpreters available for the number of attendees who needed them. Moog ( @wayhaughtt ) talks more about this in their vlog, which I’ll link here. It is completely and totally unacceptable (not to mention illegal) for Clexacon to not have enough people available to assist attendees.

Along with not having enough interpreters, the space is just totally not accessible for anyone who has mobility issues. Small panel rooms are all the way at the back of the con space, making it hard for people who cannot walk long distances. Aisles were not wide enough for people with mobility devices to use. While there were some things in place to assist with having to stand in line, it was still difficult for many people who couldn’t stand for long periods of time. The elevator on the bottom floor near the Vendor Hall was out of the way enough that I didn’t notice it until Sunday. The Quiet Room shouldn’t have even been called that, as it was sandwiched between the Photo Ops and the Film Festival, making it impossible for people to achieve the quiet they were going there to find. And sure, you might say, “Well that’s not their fault, it’s the fault of the Tropicana”. But at the end of the day if you are really committed to making your event accessible to everyone, to create this “safe space” that you continually advertise, then you will make the effort to not only actually provide people with adequate accommodations at the very least, but also find a venue that will be accessible for your attendees.

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being (At Clexacon)

Okay, so, I’m really annoyed that I basically have to write the same thing I did last year. I was really, really hoping that white people wouldn’t fuck it up again and would show up, but apparently the small amount of faith I had in my fellow white fandom people was too much. It was very clear AGAIN this year that white fandom will only show up for shows with white characters. I did notice an increase in the amount of people who attended the One Day at a Time Panel, and that’s great! But there were so many other panels with queer folks of color that were either a quarter or half full. I was hoping more people would attend the Black Lightning panel now that they were an established show finished with their second season, but nope, it was maybe half full. The Vida panel had a good number for attendance, but it was in a smaller panel room, so I can’t really gauge it with the other large room panels, but that room was not full. The Queer People of Color Representation panel, a really great panel with an important discussion, was about a quarter full. WHITE FANDOM NEEDS TO BE HEARING THESE CONVERSATIONS. Us not showing up and not putting in literally the minimum amount of work is fucking ridiculous, and shows everyone else where we stand.

There also, again, was a noticeable difference in the length of autograph lines for white actresses verses actors and actresses of color. Jes Macallan’s line was wrapped around the autograph area. Even though this is their third Clexacon, Dominique Provost-Chalkley and Kat Barrell’s lines were long as well. Caity Lotz’s line was also pretty long. On the other hand, Nafessa Williams was sitting at her table with no line for a significant chunk of her autograph time, as was Chantal Thuy and Lesley-Ann Brandt. Just that visual alone makes it abundantly clear who white fandom is willing to give their time and money to. So many of us complain that there’s not enough LGBTQ representation, but then refuse to put in the work when the characters are people of color. Saltygaysianpowerhour on instagram has a great post about this, which I’ll link here. White fandom, if we’re not putting in the work, we cannot complain when we feel there’s not enough LGBTQ representation. We’re part of the problem.

Lastly, I noticed that the Clexacon space was extremely white. When this happened, we as white fandom should have been aware of that and been better allies for attendees of color. That did not happen. I’ve heard so many stories of attendees of color who felt othered or additionally marginalized by both attendees and con staff in a space that should have been just as much theirs as everyone else’s. This convention is not a “safe space” for queer people of color, and some very, very significant changes will have to be made for it to get even close to that.

I Can’t Fucking Believe I Have to Write About TERFs

Just like the fucking subtitle says, I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE TO WRITE ABOUT TERFS. The complete and utter failure to make this con a positive and safe space for trans folks is honestly stunning. Literally so many people I know got repeatedly misgendered at Clexacon, and so many people didn’t even care to find out what people’s pronouns were. Volunteers misgendered multiple people, which is a problem staff should have addressed at the very beginning. I heard many people say they encountered TERFs at the con and I don’t think I need to mention this, but like, if TERFs think your con is a safe space then that’s a huge problem. I honestly think there were more cishet men on main stage panels this year than trans folks. That’s a problem. This con should have had some way to signify your pronouns on your badge, whether that be a ribbon, button, or even a fucking sticker for people to fill in. I feel like if you’re running a convention that claims to include all LGBTQ people, then you need to do basic things like that. Otherwise change how you market the convention.

What Is it Good For? (Actually, a Few Things)

Okay, now that I’ve aired all my grievances (or at least the ones I can think of), I do want to talk about the good things this con can bring. This con does offer a space for people to create community. Sure, we can do this online with Tumblr or Twitter, but it’s not the same as seeing a living person in front of you. It’s not the same as talking to someone face to face and being excited about whatever media you love. It’s not the same as getting to hug your favorite people. And with all its faults, Clexacon does create a space for this to happen in real time. I know people who have met some of their closest friends at Clexacon. Hell, I met my current girlfriend at the first Clexacon. But that doesn’t erase that this community is currently toxic, and if we want to keep going we’re going to have to deal with those toxic parts or it’s all going to rot. Unfortunately I’m not going to be attending Clexacon in the future unless the current management is removed and significant changes are made. I’m lucky enough to have other places that create positive LGBTQ community like @tgifemslash. I’m not going to shame anyone for going to Clexacon next year, especially if that’s the only community you have. I just hope that in reading this very long post (and thanks if you’re still with me!) you reflect on what Clexacon is and how it can be better. We’re already marginalized by broader society, we don’t deserve further marginalization from our own “community”.

#Clexacon #Clexacon2019 #Clexapocalypse