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harrygoeswest · 1 year

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Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up.

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober.

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile.

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure.

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever.

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association.

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I. We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone.

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned.

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.”

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub.

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #i forgot how much i fucking hate writing tags on the bottom of posts #this is endless

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mirkwoodmunson · 2 years

Text

eat your lunch

eddie munson x f!y/n

815 words

eddie has a hard time calming down when he’s in one of his loud-mouthed moods, until you cram some food in his mouth for some peace and quiet.

contains: fluff, goofs, hellfire club, established relationship, jason carver, chrissy cunningham, pre-s4 tw: cursing, food mention/eating/forced eating but in a lighthearted way, playful hitting a/n: very short lil thang completely inspired by this post that i love and have been thinking about all day i love it so much i love goofy eddie. nate is just a random name for the one hellfire member they decided not to name for whatever reason :/ disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online

Jesus fucking Christ he was really on one today.

Lucky for you all you were desensitized to it, half the school’s eyes drawn to the Hellfire club, drawn to the nerdy metalhead strutting proudly along the tabletop, giving his performance of the day. One of many, actually. Earlier in the hallway with you he had raised his arms to the ceiling, tipped his head back, and bellowed,

“FELLOWS OF THE HALLWAY!! PLEASE PART YOURSELVES — AS THE RED SEA PARTED BEFORE MOSES — FOR THIS GORGEOUS CREATURE IS ABOUT TO GRACE YOUR PRESENCE AND MUST PASS!! DO NOT LOOK UPON HER!! THOSE UNWORTHY SHALL BURST INTO FLAAAAME~!!”

Again, you were used to it. Before, when you were very first subjected to this type of torment, you would’ve been beating his arm and hiding your face, hissing at him to knock it off.

Now you just, roll your eyes. The crowd does part — mainly due to the weirdo screeching at them — but you reach up and grab one of Ed’s hands and drag him along behind you while his free arm still praises the heavens.

“SHE BLESSES ME WITH HER HEALING TOUCH!! I AM CLEANSED, I TELL YOU, CLEANSED!!”

Now, at lunch, you all munched and engaged in idle chatter amongst yourselves, having to raise your voices every now and then when Eddie got particularly loud. Dustin slides you half of a Cosmic Brownie, and you slide him back a single Twinkie like it’s a high-stakes deal going down — Lucas nudging his arm for half of that. Mike scribbles out a letter to Eleven. Gareth drums pencils on the edge of the table while Jeff and Nate grunt, engaged in an arm wrestling competition — which Eddie steps over every time he makes a lap.

“Dusty, honey, chew your food,” you comment softly as Eddie breezes between the two of you, brow puckered, as the boy practically swallows the Twinkie whole, Lucas groaning in defeat as he misses out on a taste of the golden treat.

“—buncha ball-bouncing pretty boys with sticks up your butts!!” Eddie exclaims as he addresses the table of jocks. That’s where you groan, eyes sliding shut as a chip drops from between your fingers. The others have tight lips, now shifting their eyes down, as Jason Carver meets Eddie’s challenge.

“Don’t think I asked, freak!” The blonde boy spits, standing from his table where Chrissy Cunningham attempts to pull him back down.

“Oh jeeeeeze,” Dustin groans, sinking down in his seat.

Sure, it was all fun and games and business as usual when Eddie was just, talking. Just loudly speaking his mind about whatever was bothering him about society that day. But when he got Jason riled up too, the fun quickly got sucked out of it, and things would get heated rather quickly. You notice Lucas giving you a look that says ‘please make him stop’ but you hold up your hands, snorting.

“Hey, that’s like waking someone up from sleepwalking. He might go feral.”

“He is feral!” Mike drops his pencil, unable to even try to continue concentrating as Eddie’s and Jason’s voices get louder and louder.

You all look over at the sound of impact, Eddie hopping down heavily from the table and immediately he and Jason getting into each other’s faces, Chrissy still trying to tug Jason’s arm. You make eye contact with her, and she rolls her head in exasperation, her look deeply apologetic. You nod at her and then stand up, grabbing Eddie by the scruff of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t protest, or pull or turn away, instead following your tugging with backwards steps as he jabs a finger in Jason’s direction, their words still heated but it seemed like they were starting to run out of fuel.

“Pansy-ass ball-jockey!!” Eddie throws a final insult as you toss him into his chair, slapping down his pointing hand as you drop back into your own. Chrissy settles her partner as well, keeping him turned away and getting him calmed down.

“Oookay okay okay,” you coo, picking up a handful of pretzel bits and stuffing them into Eddie’s mouth, holding the back of his head. He grumbles as he chews them, grumpy and agitated but starting to calm down as you practically mother him into returning to a docile state.

“Theeere ya go,” you coo again, more mockingly as you grin, satisfied with his silence. You pick up half your sandwich, gesturing to Eddie,

“Now shut up n’ eat your lunch, Munson. Wind-down time.”

The others at the table give you approving nods, grinning over the antics between their friends.

He sighs heavily and crosses his arms, chewing and grumbling still, but much calmer now. Whenever he throws a dirty glance at the jocks you simply hold up more food to him, smiling when he visibly softens every time and lets you feed him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #hellfire club #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson drabble #drabble #short fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #mine

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transienttheologyproject · 8 months

Text

i hope my followers & others keeping up & supporting this project know that whenever you leave a kind message on my post — whether it be something as simple as a tagging your reblog of my posts with ‘!!!’ or as personal as sending me a message to the effect of ‘this type of work means so much to me thank you for doing it,’ you are helping me keep my momentum going.

bit of a whole big rant below, sorry for the length, but tl;dr i’m just immensely grateful for what support this project has received because the backlash it has gotten has taken way more of a toll on me & my mental health than i anticipated, and your kindness has helped in motivating me to not just completely wipe this whole thing from the internet.

today yesterday kinda sucked. a lot of the past couple weeks have sucked, especially since pushing more of an online presence with this zine, because of course, with something like this you’re naturally gonna attract a range of Christians, from those ‘gender-criticals’ (whatever that means) who think I’m misguided, to those who begin their messages by calling me & my work perverted, to those whose vitriolic transphobia manifests in sending me Gospel verses weaponized as straight-up death threats. and obviously i knew this was going to happen, and it did, even from as early on as when i was posting the calls-for-art.

and at first i handled it well — i deleted whatever i felt wasn’t worth my time responding to, and if i could meme a hate-comment into a promotional tiktok, then i kept it around to do exactly that. and that worked. i told myself i wasn’t going to get defensive and bound up in keyboard wars because the purpose of this specific project, this specific platform isn’t for debating or dialoguing with Christians who don’t affirm trans+ identities — it’s to serve those who are trans+ and Christian, and I didn’t want this intra-community effort to become an inter-community debate forum. dialogue is a perfectly necessary thing, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a time & a place for everything and this project wasn’t meant to be it.

as the weeks went on, however, the negative attention this project was receiving began to take a toll on me. it didn’t help that in addition to the anticipated pushback from Christian peers, some of the trans+ folks i knew gave me a hard time for ‘bootlicking the oppressor.’ i was, and still definitely am, having the most intense experience i’ve had to this day of the exact type of ostracization that inspired me to pursue this project in the first place — too trans for the Christians, too Christian for the trans folks.

receiving comments calling an academic research project i dedicated my entire summer to “perverted” made me doubt everything i had worked so hard on. accusations of “heresy” and “blasphemy” i had expected and received plenty of, but perversion was not something i had anticipated. comments like “you make me sick” made me second-guess everything i had done leading up to that moment — am i sickening? i was falling for the false narrative that exists as the backbone of much of today’s transphobia — that trans+ people are inherently groomers, monstrous predators. i was perverting my body, they said, and scripture, too — and i began to wonder if they were right.

receiving comments like “enjoy your insanity! I hope the boot still tastes good when they've taken away all our rights so you could feel like ‘one of the good ones’” made me doubt my identity as a Christian. yeah, it’s no secret that the anti-trans legislation running rampant and scaffolding an era of fascism in the United States is the result of neoconservative Christians who represent more the Rome that Jesus mocked & condemned than Christ’s mission itself. i began to worry if calling myself Christian identified me with the oppressor and if talking about transness from a Christian perspective was really a helpful endeavor or if i was essentially stabbing my trans+ community in the back.

you’d think that given the nature of this project, i would be better about not letting those sorts of interactions wear me out. because i’m conducting a project that’ll say “hey, trans+ Christians, you don’t have to choose between those two facets of your identity because they’re not mutually exclusive,” you’d think i would’ve had that mindset confidently internalized. or maybe you wouldn’t think that, but i guess i thought so myself. and i guess i thought that expecting the petty backlash & having done enough research to dismiss it was enough to be prepared for it. not really.

from the beginning, i told myself, “don’t let the mean ones get to you, you’re smart and have done your research and know what you’re talking about.” but there was such a separation between myself and my work this summer that i never truly internalized what i was writing about — i believed it, but i didn’t necessarily believe it for myself.

this project has been a labor of love. and i definitely think the labor part got the best of me this whole summer. the literary review was a drag. writing up the annotated bibliography was immensely frustrating and took me way longer than i would have liked. same with the zine’s section prefaces. and i had planned and hoped to meet with and interview several professionals in the various fields examined in the zine — and i totally dropped the ball because of… something that felt like burnout, which actually made me feel like i had committed the biggest blunder of my professional career before it had even begun. I’m still recovering from that.

the mental and emotional toll this has caused me, the academic, spiritual, psychological, and physical strife this whole endeavor has proven to have been has resulted in me sort of dissociating from the project; i talked about it as though it was a passion project of mine — which it is — but as i was working on it, i felt so disconnected from the material. as if it were akin to a homework assignment in a class i couldn’t care less about.

i’ve been in a tough spot regarding mental health for a long while now (for various other reasons besides this), and i’ve reached the point where i’ve wanted to pull the plug on something to just try and break whatever vicious cycle im trapped in, whether that something be as large-scale as dropping out of university, or as low-scale as shaving all my hair off, or maybe…well, maybe since i can pinpoint these online interactions and this research pursuit as a whole as contributing substantially to my poor mental state, maybe i should pull the plug on the zine. screw it, delete the social media pages & the website, make sure artists get their copies & be done with it.

but i have folks who have been legitimately looking forward to this — not even just people of the intended audience! i have cis Christian friends on my college campus who had never met a(n openly) trans+ person, let alone a trans Christian, before they had met me who have demonstrated such a genuine eagerness to learn from the expressions of faith and gender from myself & others like me. i know a Catholic mother — the sweetest woman — who is ordering a physical copy of the zine so she can try to understand and support her two trans+ daughters, and any other trans+ people she meets, better. i’ve had countless people — strangers — message me “this work you are doing is incredible and incredibly needed. thank you for doing it.” i’ve seen several people, folks just scrolling through their tiktok for you page who don’t even usually follow after leaving me comments to the effect of “yknow, this is a strange crossover episode, but i’m here for it, this is cool!”

there are people who want this work out there. and what’s more is that there are people who need this work out there. and i guess every time someone goes out of their way to extend some kindness towards me and gratitude for this project, i am reminded that i am among those who need this work. those little moments ground me in the purpose and mission of this project — to serve my trans+ Christian community, particularly those who may be having trouble reconciling their intersection within those identities especially within the current socio-political climate. and like, that’s me!!! i am a member of my community, i am a part of the people i am hoping to serve.

everything i was (and truthfully, still am) anxious about, everything that was (and is) weighing on my heart is everything that this project hopes to challenge. all the doubt i’ve been experiencing as of late is exactly what inspired me to do this work in the first place.

and the kindness and gratitude so many of you have extended towards me in the past few weeks, especially within the past few days, have truly helped ground me. i’m still struggling to get back on my emotional feet per se, which is why i will ask that if you find a moment, you keep me in your prayers — but i genuinely mean it when i say that every positive tag on a reblog, every share on one’s story and every kind comment serves as a reminder to me that a.) there are people will be genuinely served by a project like this, and not only that, but b.) i am one of those people. you all remind me to take a look at what i’ve done from the perspective of a trans Christian, not of a student researcher or a graphic designer or a social media moderator or any of the other practical roles i had to take on this summer. you remind me to look at this project as the type of person it’s meant to serve. you remind me of my initial hopes and goals with this endeavor.

you remind me to allow myself to be transformed by the work i have done.

when you share with me how inspirational this project is to you, you remind me to let myself be inspired by the work i’ve done. when you share how much this zine means to you, you remind me to let myself take meaning in it.

and i think it’s sort of ironic in a very beautiful way — so much of this zine focuses on the idea of entanglement and the interdependence of many facets of our lives, and it wasn’t until this project became entangled with you all so much that your experience with the zine is no longer just dependent on mine, but that ours are interdependent on each other. the positivity you feel at learning about this project is poured back into my cup, giving me the breathing room to finally allow myself to feel positively about it, too.

so truly, from the bottom of my soul, thank you. thank you for your kindness and your support, and for making it this far in my ramblings if you have. i know it was quite disorganized and probably very repetitive but this is my first time sort of articulating what i’ve been feeling so heavily recently. so, thank you again — i hold each and every one of you always in my heart, mind, and prayers!

<3 - Soup

(the man behind the curtain)

#tw transphobia #wow this is a lot #thanks for reading #i love yall #transgender christian #trans christian #trans and religious #trans and christian

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daddyy333 · 1 year

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Cuddles | Maya Hawke x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

Word count: 0.3k

warnings: ?

I hate this

summary: you finally get to see Maya for the first time in a long time due to work and other things getting in the way and you two are unbelievably clingy towards each other

“Bubba!” She yelled, dropping her bags and jumping into the bed with you. Your schedules lined up and for the first time in 2 months you could finally see your girlfriend. The last time you saw each other was the premiere of your movie, which was a week after the premiere of Stranger Things 4 which you also attended with her.

You two had both been doing press for your projects and your daily FaceTimes had gotten so short and nearly missed so often because of how busy the two of you were. Now that you could finally see each other, you were ecstatic. Joe was doing press with her, so they went everywhere together and he decided to record this secretly.

You giggled and buried your head in her chest, rolling the two of you over so you were on top of her. You kissed her a million times, making her giggle and squirm a little. She hugged you tight, rolling back over so she was on top.

You both laughed and she kissed you hard, pushing her tongue past your lips and making out with you, needing to be as close to you as possible. She missed this, she missed you. And you missed her.

She pulled away for air and chuckled, burying her head so deep in your neck you were worried she couldn’t breathe. “Baby, I’m here, okay? Come on, you’re gonna suffocate” you said and she groaned. She finally let up and said “I’d be lucky to die like that”

You just shook your head and kissed her a few more times, rubbing your hands down to her ass and squeezing a little. “Jesus Christ, I’m still here keep your pants on” he said and was about to stop recording but then your head popped up from under her and you said “hi Joe!” And he died laughing.

You chuckled and pulled her down so she was literally just laying ontop of you as you rubbed her back, kissing her head a few times. “Fuck, I missed you so much” you said and hugged her tighter. You spent literally 3 hours cuddling and kissing and stuff, eventually Joe went out to get food and walk around the city for a bit and you two fell asleep, practically breathing each other's air.

As of now I’m writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Eddissy

Maya Hawke

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and I’ll add you :)

#stranger things #maya ray thurman hawke #maya hawke #maya hawke x female reader #maya hawke x y/n #maya hawke x reader #maya hawke oneshot #maya hawke fanfiction

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paula-of-christ · 3 months

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Your reblog response on the post about Mary, the enemy and the rosary really intrigued me — the part about the DMC (ironically lol. I know it wasn’t the point of the post, you were right. Anyways, bear with me okay haha). Can you say more about how the DMC is more like the Jesus prayer with the prayer rope and only really “lines up” (or doesn’t, as you said, numerically..?) with the rosary bead wise bc it’s made to do so by people these days. If it was prayed on something more like a prayer rope, wouldn’t you still need the bigger beads/knots for the “Eternal Father, I offer You..”s? It’s just such a different, creative and unique way of viewing it, it’s really for me thinking rn.

Sidenote what if like. Imagine. A new chaplet prayer rope thing was made for the DMC instead of just using a rosary for it. Something better constructed to represent it and it’s sequence, how it’s more meditative on the words than Mysteries (like you’d said). Idk. It just is so gorgeous to imagine about. There’s much scope for the imagination with that, as Anne would say~ Last ask I promise lol. I just want to say as a fellow ex-pagan current-Catholic (by the grace of God), seriously, you are out here doing His good work by speaking on your experiences and rejecting paganism and talking about the pain of it all. It is so true. Witchcraft is such a heinous, dangerous sin—it stays with you, it lingers, it’s residual. (Spiritually. But like. Even explicitly—“Well what’s another crystal for aesthetic after all?”, as if these things aren’t gateways… been there!) And it’s being treated SO trivially and whatever~*~ by the secular world these days and it drives me insane. Anyways. That’s all. Mary, Destroyer of Heresies, lead all astray souls back to the fold of your Son, and crush Satan under your feet, we beseech you. Amen.

So, to clarify what I meant by 'it was made to fit the rosary beads' is that, according to St. Faustina/her diary, Jesus had told her how to pray the chaplet on rosary beads; I didn't mean that people now have made it fit onto the rosary, but that . But, it doesn't quite fit perfectly on rosary beads, in that the opening prayer is done on the first bead after the crucifix, then the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Apostle's Creed are done. Where it doesn't quite fit is that the bead after that 'starts' the first decade, which is normally not the case when praying a rosary. Perhaps it's just me, but it's something that I find a bit distracting when I pray the DMC unless i use a rosary that uses that last bead in place of an image of the Blessed Mother.

I also say it's more akin to the Jesus prayer, because it's about Jesus' mercy, and it has a similar cadence if that makes sense. When I'm praying it at least (saying, not chanting), I very much do the same breath movements that one would do with the Jesus prayer. I'll try to break it down how I mean.

[Breath in:] Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, [breath out:] have mercy on me, a sinner.

[Breath in:] For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, [breath out:] have mercy on us and on the whole world.

There are also, definitely people who make chaplets specifically for the DMC, usually without the crucifix and instead of medals with the Divine Mercy image and/or St. Faustina.

I just find that the beads aren't super helpful for me, because it truly takes around 5 minutes to pray if you aren't chanting/singing it, that I get more distracted by the beads than I actually get to pray, so I often just pray it with my fingers. When I was praying it everyday/multiple times a day, I often didn't need the prayer beads to tell me when it was time to start the new decade.

Thank you for your support! It means the world to me. I've been asked some questions about different things like satanism (an ask currently sitting in my inbox) and asked to talk about paganism and witchcraft again on my blog, but have been chewing on it a little, because I just haven't been inspired about it lately. The fursther I get from that time in my life, the less those sorts of things are affecting me, as well as just generally less 'mystical' things seem to happen. I'm in a much better state mentally than I have been in years, and I'm a lot more liberally with throwing holy water around my place when I'm starting to feel bad. I definitely have been frustrated with some things I've seen recently, but am just in such a mind-frame now that I'm getting older of "if I see something upsetting on my phone, I'm just going to walk away" rather than argue with people about it.

#I could definitely make some kind of post about something I saw in a Catholic group relatively recently #on FB specifically; someone saying that she believes in all the church teaches and isn't a witch but has a shop for 'oddities'#then the link to her shop EXPLICITLY says smack dab on the front page 'for the modern witch'#and the mods even commented saying that 'calling op a witch is forbidden because she doesn't practice occult and isn't sinning'#when like she is providing things for self-described 'witches'#it's crazy to me #but also idk what I'd even say and I don't want to potentially gossip by linking this person's fb or shop or anything #queued

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thoughtfulfoxllama · 3 months

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I'm a bit conflicted, because I know the person irl who suggested Confession (they told me in person), Climate got the most votes, and the one person who reblogged said Apocrypha. I love democracy, but I was tempted to show favoritism

But, I decided to be fair this time, and go with Climate. But I may not be so unbiased in the future

So, how does Climate apply to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Well, the Earth is our home. We helped create it (Michael was one of the Creators, and the Endowment tells us specifically to associate ourselves with him, after he becomes Adam), we live on it, and it will be glorified with us

When Adam was placed on the Earth, he was commanded to be a wise Steward over it. As I previously said, we are Adam, we are all supposed to be Stewards. But what is a Steward? It is one who oversees and manages a property (in this case, the Earth). So, to be a wise Steward is to careful manage the Earth, properly using its resources

We have not done that. When we began using Coal & Petroleum, we didn't know the affect it would have on the environment. I can't get mad at their ignorance, because it helped build our society. But we have absolutely no excuse now. We know the affects, and it's inexcusable to look the other way (it's not a conspiracy, and if anything, implementing clean technology would inspire a new boom in careers)

Now, as you know from the Evolution post, I believe in Old Earth Creation. As this is the case, I have to acknowledge the changes in Climate over time. But, we cannot deny that humans have accelerated it to unprecedented extent, and we are not slowing down

So, what can you do. There's a number of things:

1.) Vote! I know, many of you aren't going to vote for the Green Party, but vote for policies which help the environment, vote out politicians who don't believe in climate change, or who are paid off to look the other way

2.) Speak. I'm taking an Environmental Science Class this semester, and I learned that one individual is useless. But you don't have to remain one person. Speak out, whenever, to whomever. If you live a more sustainable life, and talk about it, you'll get others to join you. Brigham said the Gospel is everything, Temporal & Spiritual. So, this counts as Missionary Work. Talk to your Ministering Families about these issues

3.) Hunt. I know, it's weird to say that, but hunting can help. In my Word of Wisdom post, I discussed limiting Meat. Well, not only does Hunting cut down on the need for Land & Feed when it comes to raising Pork or Beef, but it also prevents overgrazing. The only thing I will say is hunt wisely, and use what you kill. Overhunting can lead to a population collapse, and trophy hunting is just... No. I'm addition, raise your own animals. Not everyone can have a whole cow in their yard, but if you have a few chickens, that cuts down on eggs being shipped thousands of miles (and you can sell the extras)

4.) 3R. Recycling is good, but it's not enough. We need to reduce & reduce first. Let's say you get Soda for a Party. Instead of getting a 12 Pack, get some 2 Liters, and use your washable cups. Reuse your used 2 Liters (I use mine as Mini-Greenhouses), and then you don't need to recycle

5.) Learn more. I can't tell you everything. Learn the effects of Climate Change, what you can do to slow it, ect

I've got some resources here. From personal research or my Environmental Class. Please share more in the Comments & Notes

https://ldsearthstewardship.org/

https://www.climate.gov/

https://www.nrcs.usda.gov/conservation-basics/natural-resource-concerns/climate

https://www.ipcc.ch/

#mormon #lds #tumblrstake #queerstake #lds church #ldschurch #mormon hot take #climate change #climate crisis #climate action #climate catastrophe #climate emergency

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5ivebyfive · 3 months

Note

read your blogs about chapter 12 possibly being the last chapter of shut up and drive and got concerned. after putting it off for a while due to being busy and just... unmotivated to consume any content, i decided to finally give it a read. spent practically the entire day reading it. let's just say i did not expect to get as invested as i did. i've been hyperfixating on power rangers 2017 for a while now, but with the lack of new content, i was slowly losing interest (which absolutely broke my heart, because i truly adore this movie). however, reading shut up and drive has gotten me right back into it. this fic is genuinely my favorite piece of work on ao3. i have so much admiration and love for it. i practically felt... every single emotion i could possibly feel while reading it. needless to say i was in tears for a lot of it (i cry due to, like, every strong emotion i feel, and i felt a lot of strong emotions reading shut up and drive. jesus christ i'm just a wreck after the ending of the last chapter). changed my entire discord layout to match it, and am currently in the process of changing my phone's layout as well. yes, i loved it that much. it made me wonder why i hadn't read it sooner. as a starving trimberly fan, i've been lingering on your blog for a while now. sent a few anonymous asks here and there. read a lot of your work on ao3. i just feel really guilty for not commenting and interacting as much as i should've. i guess i was... scared to? i don't know. i've never really been good at describing my love for things, and i didn't quite know how to properly comment on your blogs and work in the first place. not to mention the irrational fear that i had of being "annoying". i know this is a little long, but all of this is basically just a way for me to make up for not praising your work sooner. i know how much of a bitch writer's block can be, and despite the fact that i hadn't even read shut up and drive when i saw your recent blogs, i was really saddened by the fact that it was coming to an end. that's what motivated me to read it in the first place. you've had so much passion for it, and it was genuinely so inspiring. i really want to try interacting with your posts more, which is also why i've decided to send this ask non-anonymously. feeling like you're posting into a void is one of the worst feelings, speaking as someone who's never really been in "active" fandoms (for some reason). you're definitely not alone in this fanbase. i want to try to post some of my own work as well, which is something i wouldn't have even considered if it wasn't for you. thank you for everything you've done for the power rangers 2017 fandom. thank you for every single fic, every single chapter, and every single blog you've made related to it. words can't describe the joy your work has given me. i have so much work to do, yet spent the day reading shut up and drive instead. i don't regret a thing.

Wow! This message is so wonderful, thank you! I don't even know what to say in reply.

I really appreciate your dedication to my little story. It means so much to me. I'm completely obsessed with this fic right now so it feels good to know I'm not alone.

When I say I miss interaction it's not about wanting more comments. I appreciate any comments I get. I may have used the wrong word. Like...I miss activity. I miss following blogs that post about the movie and Trimberly. I miss people reblogging things. Especially fic and art. Though maybe more so fic. I do think art gets more reblogs than fic does. Which it deserves! But fic deserves it, too.

I miss there being a community and people to talk to. I miss us sending each other asks and talking about headcanons and everything. It's just not the same as it was, and everyone has moved on. It's hard to be one of the people still holding on when most people have left.

I don't think chapter 12 will be the last. I just can't do that to this fic. It deserves the justice I had planned for it. It's amazing that you're so devoted to it! Thank you!

I guess I'm not leaving the fandom. I just get frustrated. It feels like there are so few people left, and even the friends I thought I'd made regardless of fandom have faded out, and that hurts.

I just...really miss it all. But I'm glad that I'm not alone yet, and I'm so appreciative for everyone who still reads my fic and my blog.

#rose does asks #praise tag

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a-method-in-it · 2 months

Note

Girl what the hell is that last post you just reblogged.

(((They))) leave out or what.

Have you considered that you just did not pay that much attention during history class, because I learned about many of these things.

Jesus Christ half of that Tweet chain is just antisemtic conspiracy theories with 'zionists' instead of jews, as if that's not something the alt-right has started doing years ago.

Calling jewish people 'white' as if that's what the perception was at the time or makes any sense considering Jewishness is an ethnicity.

Fucking hell. You seemed like a reasonable person for a long time yk. But a claim that the goddamn Holocaust wasn't explicity and overwhelmingly targeting Jews with most others as afterthoughts is insane and history denying.

Literal textbook antisemitism.

Hi --- From the sound of this ask, you're someone who follows me, and as such I wish you hadn't sent this on anon so that I could reply privately, but here goes.

I assume you are talking about this post? That's the closest thing that I can find in my reblogs to what you're describing, though a lot of what you say about it here isn't actually true.

The post does not call Jewish people white --- it says that the way the Holocaust is presented in mainstream education seems designed to portray Jews as perfect white victims who didn't even fight back, which is obviously not true. (The fact that it's not true, including the white part, is what the Twitter user is pointing out.)

It also never claims that the Holocaust was not overwhelmingly targeting Jews, and I honestly don't know where you got that.

Also, I can't speak to where you went to school, but as a middle class white American, I actually was not taught anything in school about the Herero and Nama genocide, the presence of armed Jewish resistance to the Nazis, the fact that Hitler was inspired by the Armenian genocide, and certainly not that he was inspired by the genocide of indigenous peoples in the United States. (I did in high school learn that the Red Army liberated the camps and that people other than Jews were targeted as well, including Romani and disabled people; I have, however, had friends who were surprised to learn this as adults.)

You seem to think this post was criticizing the way that Jewish people talk about the Holocaust, but unless you think that Jewish people are in charge of all education policy (which would be a weird thing to think?) I don't see how you're getting that at all. The post specifies it's about Holocaust education, which I read as the things people are taught in school.

For what it's worth, I have found that Jewish sources of information about the Holocaust are actually less likely to fall into these traps than mainstream American ones, just speaking from my own experience.

I will say I'm not thrilled with the way the Twitter user makes the leap to saying that this type of education is deliberately meant to further zionism. I think that's a stretch. I reblogged it anyway because I thought it was overall making good points. I might wind up deleting it; I certainly take it seriously when something reads to Jewish people as engaging in anti-Semitic tropes, and if you have more to say about why you think this does that, I truly am happy to listen. I don't really see it that way, but as a goy, I often miss things.

But yeah. I feel like this would have been a better convo to have non-publicly, and I wish you hadn't chosen to go the anonymous route. I don't know what to make of statements like "You seemed like a reasonable person for a long time yk." coming from an anonymous ask. Are we mutuals? Have we interacted? Or are you basing this assessment purely on my online presence? Are you treating me like some quasi-public figure because I *checks notes* have a pseudonymous account on the internet's least popular social media site or have I offended someone I know and have some online relationship with?

If you want to send a chat or an ask I can answer privately, I'm happy to keep talking, but if you send another anonymous message, I will not be replying.

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all-seeing-ifer · 1 year

Text

not to wade into fucking. steven universe discourse of all things on main but in light of the posts i reblogged it's genuinely so unhinged to me that steven universe is the piece of media that inspires these fuckcing reactions. like jesus christ it's a cartoon for children that unlike most cartoons for children is willing to introduce the ideas of "hey in real life there usually isn't a single big bad villain you can blame everything on and often problems in the world are a result of societal or systemic forces that we need to work together to change" which is like!! an ungodly simple concept actually!!! WHY do people who claim to have an ounce of critical analysis skills in their god damn brains keep claiming like this is going to be the death of the animation industry and refusing to let it go LITERAL YEARS after the show has ended. like it's OVER YOU CAN STOP DUNKING ON IT YOU CAN STOP ACTING LIKE WE ALL NEED TO BAND TOGETHER TO SAVE THE NOBLE INSTITUTE OF ONE DIMENSIONAL ANIMATED VILLAINS. it's not like people getting pissy about media that does something unique and subversive to its medium or genre is NEW lord knows i think a lot of people are wrong about the oklahoma revival but at least those same people aren't feeling the need to go around comparing every other musical revival under the sun to it as if it's somehow the norm and not very much a departure from the norm. touch grass watch anything that isn't a children's cartoon and consider ur opinion having privileges revoked

#steven universe #yeah sure apparently i'm testy about this today #i just cannot fucking do this. cartoon 'critics' and i am using the strongest imaginable air quotes #got so fucking insufferable when puss in boots 2 came out #ifer rambles

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angeltreasure · 8 months

Note

Hi Cecilia here! The school year is about to start, gonna be pretty busy with the students here, but glad to see the little ones again. I hope you're doing well. I might have spammed your blog with likes from the prayers you put up the other day. I finished a little prayer of my own for the Dead, if you don't mind me sharing it here. Here's what I came up with, I will take constructive criticism if you have anything to add, I was also reading the litanies you posted and prayers you had earlier that pertained to the praying for souls in Purgatory for inspiration. Here it is: "Lord Jesus, I love thee above all and before all. My love and my life, I ask of thee, thou poor daughter, to grant me a favor. I pray for the poor souls in Purgatory. Grant them rest and allow them to see the light of Thy face forevermore. They have burned for their sins, I beg thee to allow them peace and repose in you, O Lord my God. Grant this unto me, I ask for nothing more. For thou art great and wonderous in thy works, and I know through You all is possible. Grant them eternal rest O Lord, and let Your perpetual light grace them once more. Through Christ our Lord, Amen." What do you think? Also God Bless you and I hope you're doing great with everything, the rosary skills are coming along!

Good Afternoon Cecilia!,

Oh yes School has started not too long ago here in the desert as well. It is truly a gift to see a smile because smiles are one of the first steps to peace.

I was very sick last night— I didn’t post about it, but I was so weak. I didn’t mind for the most part, because the suffering was a gift I could offer up to God as a sacrifice with union Jesus on the Cross, for my priest, who suffers a lot. Even mother was worried, I looked so pale and I was so weak… I only wanted the Eucharist. I feel much better today after waking up! You brighten my day whenever I see your asks (and don’t worry you can spam all the likes and reblogs you want hahahah)!!!

I would love to see this prayer! Now, I will read it after I lit my candle and grabbed a new cup of coffee.

That was so beautiful! You are humble in that prayer I am in awe that you ask nothing more. Many people when they are in prayer ask God for so many things and many times they forget to thank God for many things. The length of it is perfect. With a short prayer like this, you can say it by itself or even add the prayer to another one, so there are many possibilities for its use! Make sure you write it down so you can bring it with you. Eventually, you will memorize it if you pray it enough times so you won’t need the paper. I honestly wouldn’t add or delete anything to it, I like it that much. If I may suggest, definitely share it with others especially if you have a spiritual director, with the Sisters, or perhaps your own Pastor. Powerful prayers like this will move the hearts of others and in time, more people will pray for the souls of Purgatory again.

My mother’s Rosary broke so I will be remaking it now that I feel better with knots. I will try to post a picture. I’ve been doing so good otherwise. Thank you, may God bless you.

#asks #Cecilia

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soft--dragon · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,609 times in 2022

1,596 posts created (99%)

13 posts reblogged (1%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@soft--dragon

@fluffallamaful

@tasmanianstripes

@spectral-ask-memes

@rowlets-are-seriously-round

I tagged 1,605 of my posts in 2022

#dragons asks - 1,539 posts

#b3an1e io - 143 posts

#joker anon - 129 posts

#nicodiangelofanboy - 124 posts

#crownin the stars - 115 posts

#bat anon - 101 posts

#squirrel anon - 68 posts

#sh0rt cak3 - 63 posts

#wolf anon - 37 posts

#artymiswritesfics - 36 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#i recommend anyone who loves bedrock bros and fluff to go read it

My Top Posts in 2022:

Light-Hearted In Limbo

Inspired by this ask here

I changed the prompt a bit, hope that's okay <3

Word Count: 3,368

Warnings: A bit of a depressive episode in the beginning but it leads to hurt/comfort and a lot of fluff :D

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

ALL PLATONIC, PLEASE DON'T INTERACT SHIPPERS

A low, flat hum echoed in the depressive cold of the platform. It made the space horribly eerie, chilling to anything that could hear it. Though, as far as Wilbur Soot was concerned, nothing heard him. His fingers were raw with how long he’d been scratching his nails down the walls, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it over, and over, and over again. His glazed eyes were locked to the dried blood on the concrete, the previous attempts of escape of his eternal prison stared straight back at him.

This was his purgatory. A constant, repetitive pattern that never stopped. He was going to suffer this fate forever, he knew it, it was practically written on the wall alongside his blood. He was never escaping. Never. Never.

“-ilbur! Oi! Wilbur!”

Hands landed on Wilbur’s tightly drawn shoulders, the contact burning through the thick trench coat wrapped around the man’s shoulders. He couldn’t keep the scream from wrenching from his constricted lungs, swiping out at the thing attacking him and curling up tighter.

“Hey! Jesus fucking christ, don’t hit me dickhead!”

In his panic, Wilbur tried to shove at the hands still digging into his skin. “Let go of me! Let go- don’t hurt m-me- please-”

The hands left his shoulders almost immediately and Wilbur shuddered, the cold drowning him once more and making his heart ache for the warmth to return, even if it had been overwhelming. He hunched in on himself, shivering against the freezing floor.

The silence was louder than his previous yelling, the stillness in the air making the man’s skin crawl. Then, a small sigh sounded out, making him flinch and press closer to the wall.

“Wilbur, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The gruff voice was quiet, concern lining the edges.

Recognition tingled in the back of Wilbur’s brain and he hesitantly lifted his head to risk a look. A pair of orange eyes looked back at him, framed by mutton chops and gnarled, chipped horns.

“S-Schlatt?” Wilbur croaked, staring at the semi-translucent ram hybrid in front of him. After all this time in his hellscape, had he finally lost it?

The man before him let out a small breath again. “Yeah,” he moved back a bit, not to crowd the brunette. “You look like shit.”

Wilbur blinked rapidly, making the ram hybrid come more into focus. Schlatt was squatting on the concrete, watching him with careful eyes, his ears bent back in clear apprehension of Wilbur freaking out again.

So, Wilbur slowly let go of the vice grip on his knees, then kicked Schatt’s ankle.

“Fuck!” Schlatt fell back with a yell, gripping his foot tightly and gritting his teeth. “What the fuck man?! Why’d you do that?!”

Wilbur fully sat up, eyebrows high and teeth gritted together. “You scared the crap out of me!" he snapped.

Schlatt grumbled, rubbing his stinging ankle. “Yeah no shit, I can see that- fuck that hurt man, the fucks wrong with you?"

Wilbur was too busy trying to wrap his head around the situation to really acknowledge Schlatt's griping. "How did you get here?" He asked.

The ram glared at him but the pain in his ankle seemed to have calmed as he answered gruffly. "Got bored."

Wilbur stared at him for a moment, the cogs in his head screeching against each other as he slowly processed that nugget of information. "Bored? How the hell did you leave your limbo?"

Schlatt shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. I figured it out somehow." He dropped his hands behind him, propping himself up. "I wanted something entertaining after years of pure hell."

Something angry curled in the base of Wilbur’s gut, and he glared at the man. “Don’t expect anything from me, I’m still pissed at you.”

Schlatt dipped his head to the side almost patronisingly. “Still? Dude, it’s been like, what? Ten years since everything happened? Why can’t we just go back to old times?”

See the full post

173 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

Give Us A Laugh, We Miss It

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 2,178

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Ranboo's sing-song voice hummed out in the room, “Not gonna get me~”

“How do you not laugh at anythin’?” Tommy demanded, slapping a hand into the armrest of his chair as he turned to look at the masked teen beside him. “We really can’t see you trying not to- ya know-” He pulled a face as if holding his breath and bringing a hand to cover his mouth, emphasising Ranboo’s advantage of the mask hiding his features, only for the teen to throw his hands up in a helpless shrug.

“No- I just haven’t- I legitimately have not laughed,” he replied, his own words tapering off at Tubbo’s mutter of, ”I’m gonna rip it off.” His eyes were impishly glinting, which were the only things seeable in the fabric of his red hoodie that was practically drowning him. The narrowed pair of eyes were locked right on Ranboo’s black and white face covering.

Ranboo leaned away with an unseeable smile of amusement. “Don’t you dare rip it off.”

“I have scissors.”

“Don’t rip it off.”

The threat however, was indeed acted upon later that same night.

When they hit end stream, Ranboo slipped off the glasses and mask with a content sigh, his eyes squinting with his smile at the pair on either side of him.

“That went well I think,” he commented, “can’t believe I’m the one that got you both to lose though.”

“We weren’t expecting you to make a balls joke!” Tommy defended, tapping at his keyboard to send a message to his editors about the vod.

“I didn’t, I was just stating a fact!”

“Bullshit, you knew what you were doing,” Tubbo grumbled, glaring at his phone which was being flooded with Twitter notifications from the tweet he was forced to make from losing the challenge.

Ranboo chuckled quietly, folding his glasses and placing them on the desk alongside the iconic mask, stretching his arms back over his chair. He was unaware of Tubbo staring at him rather intensely.

Tommy however, scoffed loudly. “Oh, so you laugh now that the cameras are off? Such a bastard.”

The faceless streamer gave an offended noise. “What? We’re not doing the challenge anymore! Why wouldn’t I laugh now?”

Tubbo leaned towards him, a devious smirk on his face as a plan formulated in his head. "That’s a good point Ran, we haven’t heard you laugh in so long. I think you owe us some laughter.”

Ranboo gave him an odd look, confusion evident in his face. “Huh?”

Tommy, who had taken part and fallen victim in Tubbo’s schemes before, knew exactly where the boy’s mind was headed, and he turned in his chair slowly, a mischievous grin stretching on his face.

Now, Ranboo was running laps of Tubbo’s house, screaming like Wario as Tommy and Tubbo skidded after him, cackling madly as they tried to cut off the American from escaping.

“Bugger off! Both of you! Just- Tommy, crAP!” Ranboo had to slide on the floorboards with his socked feet to avoid running straight into the blonde, changing course mid-motion to bolt towards the kitchen instead.

Tommy gave a yell of outrage. “Oi! No- Tubbo catch him! Catch him!”

Tubbo absolutely leapt across the space, managing to grab Ranboo around the waist and cling on with surprising strength, planting his heels into the ground and laughing when the boy almost stumbled to the floor. "Got him! I got him, Tom!”

“Hold him there!”

Ranboo dropped an arm to Tubbo’s side, squeezing quickly at the skin and delighting at Tubbo’s squeal of alarm, the boy immediately scrambling away from Ranboo and releasing him. Unfortunately for the tall teen, Tommy had skidded in front of the kitchen doorway, blocking off his one way of escape.

See the full post

173 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

Meetups in Florida

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 2,866

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Meeting Dream was one of the biggest, coolest, pogchampest moment of Tommy’s life.

The guy was just so awesome! The moment Tommy knocked on the door and it opened to reveal Dream in all his 6’3 glory, he’d cracked a grin and pulled Tommy into a warm embrace. Tommy clung on, the hug making him giddy beyond reason.

“It’s good to finally see you kiddo,” he spoke softly, Tommy was able to hear the smile in his voice.

“You too big man,” Tommy’s voice was just about a whisper, in awe of the whole situation. Dream was right here, he was hugging him, this was happening.

Sapnap was just as ecstatic to meet Tommy, sweeping him up into his arms and spinning him around, laughing with the boy as he clung back to his friend.

“The gremlin child is in the house!” Sapnap whooped, stopping in his excited spinning and simply bear hugging the teen close.

“Aye! I’m not a child, bitch!”

“First cuss in the house and he’s barely been here five minutes,” Dream laughed from where he was leaning against the wall.

“But he didn’t deny he was a gremlin!” Sapnap grinned, gently putting Tommy down and ruffling his hair affectionately. “It’s awesome to meet you bud.”

Tommy pretended he wasn’t leaning into the hand messing with his curls, his toothy smile spread across his face. “You too Sap Nappitus."

The rest of the day was filled up by relaxing together and planning the vlog they were going to film the next day. Dream was suggesting visiting his favourite places that would allow Tommy to see Florida. While Sapnap offered a petting zoo, knowing Tommy's love for animals and wanting to indulge the kid.

In the end, they decided to do both. Vlog Tommy's tour of Florida, but leave the petting zoo off camera. The adults agreed that not everything had to go on film, Tommy didn't have to be pumping out content the entire trip. Some moments could be left for them to enjoy.

The entire time they were talking, Tommy had been leaning on one of them. He’d pre-warned them he was going to get clingy during the meet up, and got an amused “It’s okay Toms, you’re more than welcome to." And with that reassurance, Tommy became the human embodiment of a barnacle. Whether he was touching a knee to one of theirs, leaning on their side, or simply hugging them close, Tommy was in full ‘clingy raccoon mode’. Dream and Sapnap may have sent boastful texts to Wilbur who promptly sent them a photo of his middle finger and a plane ticket to Florida.

They weren’t sure if the second picture was a joke or not.

To Dream and Sapnap’s delight, Tommy was just as sweet and kind as he was off camera. His internet persona was completely gone, leaving one of the more adorable teenagers they’d ever met.

Sapnap gave Tommy bear hugs constantly, ruffling his hair and gently flicking his forehead when the boy said a particularly cheeky comment. Dream kept carding his fingers through Tommy’s curls when he leaned into the older man’s side, dropping nicknames and compliments left and right when he saw fit. Tommy was relishing in the contact and praise. He usually got it from Wilbur, and having to visit America without him sucked, the loneliness was suffocating. However, with the people he was meeting and spending time with, it helped the ache in his chest.

The hours were whisked away, soon night approached and the trio were kicked back in the lounge, sharing stories and laughing, simply enjoying each other’s company in person after being stuck behind a screen for so long.

Tommy had eaten the snacks provided, but when you’re a 6’3 teenager and still growing, you tend to need a larger portion of food. Sapnap grinned at him when Tommy’s stomach growled, already pulling out a takeaway menu and throwing it at him.

“I’ll go pick it up when we’ve ordered,” he said, standing and going to find his phone.

Tommy, who was leaning on Dream’s shoulder, held the pamphlet up to the man. “What you getting?”

Dream hummed, leaning over to read the name of the food place before dropping his cheek into Tommy’s hair. “Burger,” he replied simply.

The blonde snorted with a fond eye roll. “You are so American.”

“Don’t worry Tommy, I’ll bring you onto our side one day.”

“No- No you won’t, I’m a proud British boy, I will never leave my old ways bitch.”

“Yes you will,” Dream grinned, hugging Tommy closer and squeezing a bit. “I’ll bring you over to the land of guns, burgers and gators!”

See the full post

177 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

Welcome Home (Don't Leave Just Yet)

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 960

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

ALL PLATONIC, DON'T MAKE ME GRAB MY NERF GUN >:(

"Toms-"

"Shut up."

"Tommy, I have to get up."

"No you don't."

"I can't stay here forever."

"I'll make you. You're my personal pillow. You're not moving."

Ranboo sighed heavily, (fondly,) and carded a hand over Tommy's fluffy hair. "I leave for a few weeks and then you become a barnacle?"

"I'm much cooler than a barnacle, bitch," Tommy readjusted his arms and smooshed his face further into the crook of Ranboo's neck.

The taller streamer tried not to flinch at the contact, his smile widening as Tommy's breath tickled his neck. "Oh really?" He teased, "much cooler than a barnacle?"

"Obviously yes, that's what I just said."

"Would a barnacle still be able to cling onto rocks if it was tickled?"

"Barnacles aren't ticklish, you nimrod."

"I know, but you are."

Tommy's eyes slammed open, his whole body tensing. He blinked up at Ranboo who was grinning widely and felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach.

"W-Well- I'm- I'm not that ticklish-"

Ranboo hummed, tapping his fingers against Tommy's waist and smirking when the boy flinched. "So you're saying if I tickled you, you wouldn't let go?"

Tommy internally screamed. This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap-

"Duh, I'm better than a barnacle, I'll just hold on tighter if you tickle me!" Tommy tried to hide his growing nerves with bravado.

"Is that so?"

Fingers softly - so softly they barely touched - trailed along Tommy's sides. The blonde squeaked and shoved his face back into Ranboo's chest, clenching his hoodie tightly. Not even two seconds and he was already cracking.

"How are you doing Toms?" Ranboo chuckled, massaging his fingertips into the gaps between the boy's ribs.

"G-Greheheat," Tommy gasped, hugging Ranboo around his middle more, all the while in fits of giggles. "Juhust pehehachy!"

"Well that's good to hear," Ranboo skittered his fingers up and down Tommy's side and ribs in alternating patterns, keeping the boy guessing. "I would've thought that you'd let go by now."

His thumbs pressed into his hips for a moment, a smirk lifting Ranboo's mouth when Tommy squealed. He focused back on the blonde teen's sides, brushing over his lower back every once in a while.

See the full post

224 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Snowstorm Serenity

Based off of this prompt here

Word Count: 3,325

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Ranboo could be called many things. Skittish. Quiet. Hardworking.

One thing that popped into Phil and Techno’s heads was, at this moment, awkward. The tall teen was sitting rigid in the plush couch of their cabin, hands squeezing the fabric of his dress pants and eyes nervously flitting around the room. He was the embodiment of a paranoid feline on catnip.

You see, there was an awfully strong snowstorm blustering outside. Phil being the worrisome father figure he was, invited Ranboo to stay in their well fortified home instead of the rickety cabin the enderman hybrid had made. It took a bit of convincing, the boy was extremely hesitant to invade the pair’s own house, but after a bit more reassuring and coaxing, Phil got him to agree.

However, once in the warm and cosy home, Ranboo looked terribly out of place.

Phil sat beside him, his wings twitching in worry and agitation at Ranboo’s restlessness. He tried to focus on the book he was reading, the mug of steaming tea in his free hand slowly going cold the longer he neglected it. Techno sat alone across the room, weapons laid out on the table with the piglin hybrid re-enchanting them back to their best. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire, the raging snowstorm outside the cabin, and the occasional chimes of a tool being fully restored.

Ranboo’s tall ears perked and flicked at the different sounds in the room, his eyes not staying in one spot for more than a few seconds before they jumped somewhere else. Phil finally cracked after another minute of it.

He sighed. “Ranboo.”

The boy immediately winced, ears dipping close to his head and making Phil’s heart squeeze sadly. The pair of wide heterochromia eyes met his own, and all the blonde could see was anxiety.

“Y-Yes Philza?” Ranboo stumbled over his words, shoulder subconsciously curling further inward.

Phil released a short huff, an easy smile lifting his lips. “We’ve gone over this mate, you can call me Phil.”

Ranboo stared at him for a moment before giving a slow, timid nod.

Phil set down his book and tea, resting his elbows on his knees and dipping his head to the side. He cleared his throat a bit. “You don’t have to be so tense Ranboo, neither of us are gonna bite you.”

Ranboo, once again, nodded mutely. The action was incredibly stiff and looked like it took all of the boy’s willpower to do it. Damn, how freaked out was this kid?

Phil was scrambling for a way to get the boy to open up and relax when Techno dropped a sword on the table with a loud clatter, making them both flinch.

The piglin had a rather bored look on his face, eyes locked to Ranboo. “Kid, you’re allowed to chill out,” he grunted. “I know Phil and I seem intimidating, but Phil will literally chirp when you scratch a specific spot on his wings, and I will spend hours with the wolves and play with their pups.”

Phil made a slightly strangled sound at the admittance to his soft spot. Techno didn’t even spare him a glance.

“We’re both dorks,” he said bluntly, “if you’re afraid we’re gonna be mad at you for relaxing in our home you’re wrong. We invited you here cause it was cold outside and we wanted to make sure you were okay. Got me?”

Ranboo’s mouth had slipped open at Techno’s words, his ears perked up a bit but he was still showing signs of nervousness.

Techno clearly spotted it. He folded his hands on his lap and dipped his ears marginally, both were attempts to soften his broad frame. “What’s eatin’ ya kid?” He asked, somehow managing to sound gentle and firm at the same time.

Ranboo winced again, making Phil want to hug him and Techno even more determined to find a way to make him relax.

“I-I…I just-” Ranboo’s grip on his pants tightened further, the words stumbling over each other as if they were new-born deer learning to walk. “...I shouldn’t- I’m not supposed to-” His tail twitched anxiously at his side, his eyes planted on the floor. “I shouldn’t be…doing nothing.”

There was a sound of confusion from Phil and a hum from Techno.

The piglin sat back in his chair, looking at the teen with a neutral expression. “How come?” he asked plainly.

Ranboo flicked his eyes up to Techno in confusion. “Be- Because you let me stay here? I need to pay rent and- and I can’t fall behind- and I need to be ready for…for anything. I can’t afford to relax when someone might…you know…attack? That’s all anyone seems to do here. Fight each other.”

There was a hand suddenly on his shoulder. Ranboo flinched at the touch and snapped his gaze to Phil who was looking at him sadly.

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251 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

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