#really creative. she deserves to have at least some recognition for who is actually was.

[nutellarchives]

Senior Year Shenanigans

It's been a month since updated but this ain't gonna be a monthly update, just a compilation of remarkable things that is currently happening. Keep reading to read more~

Ever since the summer passed and school started, I've been busier than ever! I suddenly missed the chill and relaxed break that I've had this 2022, welp that would be the last unfortunately because in the corporate world, vacations doesn't exist... oh well at least I can earn stuff right?

Below would be the highlights of my life atm. It's not much but hope you enjoy reading!

That addicting FPS game!

I've never imagine that I'll be playing an FPS at this day and this age. I did play FPS games when I was a kid but I did lose my interest because of how I suck at PVP games. I remember I always lose to these guys that I play with and of course up until now I am a hardstuck Iron who enjoys spike rush and replication more than competitive.

I did start playing this game March of this year and I am just a casual player so It's not really a passion for improvement and I play whenever I want to. I did start with being a Viper main, just love her design and her kit then I did main Sage a little (well because she is very easy to use and her heals are very handy) BUT last month (if I remember correctly), I was able to unlock Killjoy and boy oh boy I've been using her non stop. Her kit is so fun to use and all of these creative lineups on every map is just fantastic! I am now a hardcore KJ main!

Fangirling again and again

ONEUS JUST HAD THEIR COMEBACK OMG OMG OMG!!! Okay, virtual fangirling aside. I've been listening to SEVENTEEN and SNSD and Aespa songs on repeat for the longest time and I've been enjoying their discography and latest release so far. For Aespa it's Girls and Illusion for me then I did a lil trip down to memory lane with their Savage album songs, which I did found some favorites such as ICONIC and Lucid Dream. For SNSD, I cannot stress enough how happy I am for these girl's comeback. It's been 4 whole years since the last Oh!GG comeback and now they came back as whole. SNSD is one of my favorite 2nd Gen GGs, they are part of my childhood. FOREVER 1 is such a great album and a no skip for me!

For the featured picture of this portion, ITS ONEUS COMEBACK, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? I honestly didn't hype this comeback so much because I became their fan last year, after they released Luna and months after they announced their Trickster (Bring it On) comeback and I did hype for it and I got disappointed, like honestly, because I believe that the Luna concept was top tier and after that they released a concept that I don't find interesting. It's my personal opinion obviously (please don't come after me) but now they are back SAME SCENT SOTY! I honestly love the beat, melody, the vocals and the visuals and even the choreography. This comeback deserves another win! Though I have to be vvv honest, I am not a fan of the repetitive eh eh eh and the mmmind mind mah mind part of the song, but other than that everything is perfect. What's missing is the win, the trophy, and the recognition yah.

The Stardew Valley Addiction

I have never expected to be this addicted to this game. I generally never was interested into farming games because I find them grindy plus I got traumatized (kinda) with Genshin, because that game is hella grindy. So I am still at Spring and Year 1 (as of writing) and still exploring lot of stuff. One thing that I want to do is create another game and repeat everything because I feel like I just wasted my time in that game plus the speed of the in game time is insane, increments every 10 mins. like thank you in real world it ain't like that. Anyway one goal I have is actually to marry one of the NPC called Sebastian and I did watch a guide on how to befriend him.. which is hard LOL plus I knew *spoiler* that he likes Abigail like I also like her! (design-wise hihi). Anyway I should probably be playing now instead of writing LOL.

Created my First Visual Novel Story!

Creative writing is something that I wanted to pursue but was too scared to do so. I am a fan of reading fiction books and also fan fiction on the internet (hello tumblr and ao3) and consumed a lot to be able to write a story for the visual novel. I am a game dev major and that I have an on going Thesis research which requires integrating a game to our study, and since we are doing a Visual Novel project, I volunteered to write for the team. It was sooooo hard, with the fact that I haven't written any fiction for the longest time. It was a challenge to be able to write something decent and connect the lines. The story though, is about the gender neutral protagonist (since players can select which gender they can play) who uncovers their past through a hypnotherapy. I did integrate some psychological stuff in the story and of course advice to all the future players (because why not).

Trying to hop on the Tumblr Writing (and Theme Making)

This one is connected to the previous section, I am deciding to maintain a writing blog (aside from this one) that focuses on a mix of fiction and non-fiction. I just love words and imagery so much that I need to release it through writing. English may not be my first language but I am aiming to improve on that plus I am planning on taking a creative writing courses online, because honestly I suck at descriptive writing.

Another thing is learning how to create tumblr themes! I am a ComSci major and I know how to code front-end but I've never once touched the tumblr documentation so I guess the time is now to do so.

I honestly should focus on studying but the things mentioned above are my escape and that everyone should have their own escape too because this what makes us sane in this fast-paced and busy world.

BTW, thank you for reading this entry, it's long (as always) but I hope you did enjoy and I might not be able to update for the longest time again but oh well, let's see.

- ella

[regina-del-cielo]

Immortal Siblings AU | Four, then three, then four again

I mentioned that the bulletpoint post describing how the Guard from the Immortal Siblings AU found Joe had totally run away from me. It has, in fact, become a study on them grieving over Lykon and then finding Yusuf. 

I have, somehow, reached a sort of natural end to the amount of bullshit my mind can add to this list/fic draft. So, if you want to give it a read... grab a snack. It’s long. I’m sorry.

Warnings for Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy - I added links to the relevant pages when quoting historical events, but since I was just trying to work out a timeline (famous last words), the research wasn’t extensive. There’s a lot of hand-waving.

By the end of the 11th Century, I think Andy, Quynh and Nico haven’t been in Europe for a while, not really. They moved south, and then east, after the sack of Rome of 410 CE. Seeing the great cities fall has become hard for them, especially for Nico, who is a nomad at heart but has a soft spot for cities, together with Lykon, the true city boy in the group. He’d seen it happen to Athens, he wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing Rome wilt.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my mind is settled on them having been in India when Lykon dies (possibly sometime around the middle of the 6th century, in the mess that was the crumbling of the Gupta Empire???)

Seeing him die destroys them, and they take a break from any battlefield to grieve their friend and brother. They wander, occasionally helping but almost never raising their weapons, too leery of injuries and of losing each other.

(Quynh, who was the first to notice Lykon’s wounds, has nightmares that make her cry in her sleep. Andromache holds her so tight Nico can feel the tension on her muscles against his back. He and his sister barely sleep, scared of the open spaces of Asia as they’d never been before. Lykon was the youngest of them and he died, what if they stop healing too?)

(If Nico stands guard over his sisters and feels an ache in his chest seeing how they hold onto each other, he’s never going to say it out loud. His Mache deserves the love she shares with Quynh. But sometimes he wishes he had someone to hold him like that, one he can call his heart.)

The first time they go to battle again like in the old days it’s almost the end of the 10th century, and they’re helping Quynh’s lands gain independence from China. They have a reason and a specific side to root for, and it’s the kind of cause Lykon would have approved of. They find purpose again.

They are distantly aware of how things are holding up in the west – they know Constantinople has crowned itself capital of the Roman Empire (what is left of it anyway); they know of the new religion, Islam, and how it was brought further east with the armies conquering Persia. They met the Varangians on the Northern Plains of the Rus’, when Andy insisted on going back to their steppes for a while.

They acquire new swords, repair the old weapons, make improvements on their bows. They travel, and help, and listen. They learn new languages. They heal.

They’ve just spent the winter in Samarkand when they hear merchants newly come from Constantinople talk about the Frankish armies that took Antioch and making their way further into Palestine. 

The words ‘freeing Jerusalem from the infidels’ make Andy sigh in exasperation and twist Nico’s guts. The three of them don’t really understand the point of going to war for a god, but Jerusalem is old, and she’s been coveted by many throughout their long lives. Things like this never end well, they know it intimately.

But they’ve been away for a long time, centuries at this point. Things are very different from when the Romans had the power. They are less eager to throw themselves into the battlefield now, and there’s much they don’t know about the dynamics of Europe and the Levant. Still they’re worried, and decide that they’ll move west to see if something can be done, for the civilians at least.

At first they travel slowly, keeping an ear out for gossip spoken by the caravans coming from the west. Things radically change, however, when they dream of a new immortal (a man, with a curly black beard and shining dark eyes) dying on the walls of Jerusalem and reviving to an unprecedented slaughter – said man is, obviously, absolutely terrified and they feel it.

He’s also woken up surrounded by living enemies, with high risk of being killed or injured multiple times, and of being seen.

They are still too far away to do anything more than hope that the new guy is clever enough to keep himself alive until they can reach him, but now Nico is all for moving west at full speed to get him out.

“What the everloving FUCK is happening over there?!” is the common theme in their thoughts; nothing about this war they’re walking towards is making any sense.

Yusuf al-Kaysani is, in fact, clever enough to keep himself (and a few other civilians to boot) alive and get out of Jerusalem when it becomes clear than no matter how many Franks he kills he can do nothing to stop them alone. (It’s a fucking carnage, and he’s so tired). He walks away from the battle and tries to reach some sort of safety in the desert.

When he’d decided to stay in Jerusalem and fight instead of escaping the siege, Yusuf had considered the possibility of dying. He had not accounted for waking up from a fatal wound with no sign of having been hit in the first place.

And then there are the visions. Or dreams, he’s not sure. They don’t seem to make any sense? Who are those people?! Is his mind so addled by the war that he’s conjuring scary warrior women and a stupidly handsome man, armed to the teeth and camping in the desert?

(fantasizing about handsome men in his sleep isn’t exactly news for him, but there were never women in those. And none of his usual dreams involved weapons. Something is definitely off)

For the following days, Yusuf makes sure to stay away from human settlements while putting as much space as possible between Jerusalem and himself – the last thing he needs is to become a potential target for any invader that may cross his path.

But he’s alone, having nightmares, constantly on edge, and in a body that suddenly doesn’t feel like his own anymore, since he doesn’t even have the scars to prove that the injuries he sustained were real to begin with.

After a couple of weeks, the appearance of the strangers in his dreams starts feeling safe and comforting; they seem to operate like a little family, and God knows how much he misses his own.

(should he try to go back home? Would news of the siege reach his family before he does? Would he be able to go back to his previous life in the state he’s in? Could he keep this secret from them? Would they still love him or think him a monster?)

Despite their impressive warrior appearance, they feel... kind. And gentle. Sometimes, it feels like they’re trying to reassure him, even. Especially when he dreams from the perspective of the man.

The sensation those dreams leave on his skin is like a cape. You’re not alone, it whispers. Wait for us.

Andy, Quynh and Nico have just left Baghdad when the dreams change, and not for the better - Yusuf was passing through a village when a band of marauding Franks started harassing the locals. He moved to defend the villagers, but was overwhelmed and what’s worse, the Franks saw his wounds close too fast. Their reaction was vehement: they called him a demon, incapacitated him and then brought him back to their garrison, with every intention of ‘properly getting rid of him’.

Nico wakes up screaming and Andy has to sit on him so he doesn’t just sprint ahead without actually knowing where the fuck he’s going.

“We can’t just raid every single Frankish encampment in a twenty mile radius around Jerusalem, Nico!” “TRY ME” *Aggressive Sibling Bickering follows* *Quynh doesn’t bat an eye and just rolls out a map of the area she purchased and starts mapping out the fastest routes*

Yusuf is having a Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week at the hands of his captors, who are getting disturbingly creative in their tortures, but whenever they let him fall unconscious he sees the people of his dreams travelling much faster than before, looking Royally Pissed Off, and the surroundings are... starting to look familiar too? 

If he tries to pay more attention to the conversations his torturers are having with each other outside of the tent he’s in and hoping the dreams go both ways, so the maybe-real trio can find him easier, now that’s nobody’s business but his own.

(spoiler: it works)

When they are in sight of Jerusalem, the immortals find a drunk “pilgrim” boasting about his band capturing a ‘pagan demon’ while coming back from their victory at Ascalon, follow him back to his camp, and as soon as it’s feasible they attack.

(Andy will later gripe that Nico didn’t leave her anything to do because he just paved his way through the Franks like he was harvesting wheat.)

seeing the Stupidly Handsome Man of his dreams standing in front of him covered head to toe in blood, with a double-bladed axe in one hand and a sword in the other, staring intensely at him as if to peer directly into his soul is... an experience for Yusuf.

(he may have composed a lot of poems about that first vision of Nico through the centuries. The words ‘avenging angel’ have been used quite profusely, too)

The protective instinct that Nico has felt for the newest immortal since the first dream clutches at his throat when he finally sees him, chained to a pole and so thin his clothes barely cling to his body, but with the softest dark eyes staring back with a glint of recognition when he comes closer.

(he could cry with relief at the knowledge that he’s not scared of him. Nico has seen the faces of the men that were keeping him captive, he knows he looks a lot like they did, and that he paints a gruesome picture.)

“Are you alright?” Nico asks first, in Greek. (He knows, from the dreams, that his captors prayed in Latin. He wants to make sure that the other knows that he’s not like them.)

“You were in my dreams. You came.” Yusuf answers back in the same language, although his sounds much newer than Nico’s.

“Of course. We’re not meant to be alone… and no one deserves to be in a cage”.

Nico uses the axe to break the chains, and by the time he’s done Andy and Quynh have reached them and his sister throws the keys at him to open the shackles.

“Couldn’t take a moment to get them yourself, little eagle? You wanted to show off your skills to the new one?” Quynh teases, just to see Nico blush. Andy stares at her brother and their new companion for a few beats, before finally asking his name.

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad Al-Kaysani, known as al-Tayyib” he answers, letting out the first smile in weeks at the raising eyebrows of his saviours. “Just Yusuf is fine.”

“You have a sense of humour, brother. I like you!” Andy snorts, before cutting her palm with the edge of her axe, and showing him her fast healing.

“We are like you, Yusuf. That’s why you dreamt of us, and we of you” Nico adds gently, while Quynh offers her waterskin to Yusuf. They also offer their own names.

“We need to clean up this mess and move away from here” Andy says, while Nico helps Yusuf up. “One of those fuckers was boasting about an undying demon with others in a tavern, the last thing we need is to fight our way out against their whole army because someone else decided to come check if he was saying the truth.”

“It’s been a long time since we were in Kush” Quynh whispers, and Yusuf sees their faces open in a look of affectionate grief he remembers seeing on his Baba’s eyes when he talked about his own mother.

“We can talk about it more when we’re somewhere safer” Andromache suggests, before moving to set up the stage of an ‘accidental’ fire.

As they’re riding away, Yusuf turns slightly to watch the camp burn, leaving no trace of the invaders that hurt him. Jerusalem looms in the distance - lost, and wounded. If he were a little less exhausted, he could  easily work out a metaphor about his own situation.

But then he looks at the three people of his dreams – Quynh, Andromache, Nikolaos – that came for him. Who are the same as him, immortal.

His world has turned upside down, and there are so many questions to ask, and he could sleep for a month straight – but one thing is certain. 

He’s not alone anymore.

#the old guard #my ponderings #long post #Immortal Siblings AU #andromache the scythian #quynh #lykon #nicolò di genova #yusuf al kaysani #otp time #murder wives #andromaquynh #the First Brother #the Former Goddess and the Former Priest #THIS WAS MEANT TO BE LIGHTHEARTED INSTEAD THE SQUAD TOOK POSSESSION OF MY KEYBOARD #Lykon is here for literally three points and YET #I kept Yusuf's background SUPER VAGUE because 1) this was long enough already and 2) I have to read up some more #hope the Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy don't bother you too much I tried my best #the Kaysanova isn't there yet but the Boys like each other already #Lykon's timeline of death is still feasible of variation btw hit me up with your ideas!

[kendall-coded]

2021 fic year in review!

thank you for the tag @fanfics-fix and @outtoshatter <3

i actually already did a similar wrap-up type of thing pretty recently, which you can view here if you’d like (: this one goes a bit more in depth on the fic aspect of things, so i figured i would do it as well!

total number of completed works - 36 (15 have been deleted so now 21 rip)

total word count - 325,530 (252,520 not counting the deleted works ouch)

fandoms i’ve written in - teen wolf and detroit: become human (hoping to write more for the latter soon!)

looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? - i actually wrote a lot more than i expected? i don’t think anyone (especially not anyone like me) just casually plans on writing 325k worth of gay fanfiction in a year lolol. also, last year, i only wrote about 52k. so, calculating these stats was definitely a pleasant surprise!

what’s your own favorite story of the year? - oh this one is tough. my favorite story of mine changes constantly and i always have more than one. for right now, though i think it’s unexpected, i actually would say it’s just a skull (at least that’s what they call it). i just enjoyed writing it and i personally think it has some of my best instances of like…uh “lyrical” writing. is that thing? at the same time, i would say it’s tied with after the pain, rebirth. i just really like that one for some reason.

did you take any writing risks this year? - um, yes? at least i think so. i participated in a lot of events, which came back to bite me more than once. i sometimes severely overestimate my levels of motivation and creativity, which gets pretty risky haha. i only did five, but boy those deadlines sneak up on you lolol

do you have any fanfic goals or profic goals for the new year? - yes and no. i don’t really have any structured or numeric goals. mainly i just want to remain comfortable and happy, and i want to write things that i am proud of. there have been instances this year where i have considered changing my writing style or changing the types of stories i’m willing to write in order to garner more engagement or to feel like my content has value. so, next year, i don’t want to ever back myself into a corner where i make myself think those are my only options. my goal is to continue writing for me first, that’s all.

most popular story of the year - in terms of kudos, we’ve become trees! and jeez louise i am so grateful for the love that fic has gotten, i don’t even know how to articulate it. if we’re talking hits, then let slip the dogs of war. but uh. we do not talk about that fic.

story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion - i would probably say mark me like a bloodstain, which is just a shame because @seanchaidh7 made such gorgeous art for it and she deserves all the recognition in the world.

most fun story to write - oh definitely echolalia, which i wrote with @jaskie. getting to include so many different elements was just so fun and also coming up with a fake tv show and its characters and an entirely different universe was so awesome. it helps that poe is just, like, the best ever <3

most unintentionally telling story - we’ve become trees. this fic became something entirely different than i’d intended. i was in a pretty uh just not good place when i started writing it for the big bang. i basically began using it as an outlet for a bunch of internal negativity that i had no place for. there is a lot of me and my heartache embedded into that story and so it just means a lot to me.

biggest disappointment - in general, i do think i write things that most people don’t want to read. and that’s okay! but, it can get discouraging at times to work really hard on something and get, like, 10 kudos. but, at the same time, i do genuinely cherish and appreciate all the support i get and i memorize the names of the people who leave kudos and comments and i see when they read/comment on several of my fics and it just makes me feel good. i will say i do also get a lot of comments! so, it’s a toss up, really. i try not to get disappointed because this is supposed to be fun!

my favorite part of fandom this year - all the friends i’ve made! i got to meet so many wonderful people this year who have just meant so much to me. i have met people who have helped me become a better writer, people who i yell at about firefighters on tv, people who i know i can text in the middle of the night to tell, in detail, some very odd idea that came to me in a dream or something. i have met people who care about me and it has been a great year because of them!

well, that’s a wrap! i am tagging anyone who feels like doing this. have at it! <3

#reece rambles #long post #tag game #fic year in review #sheesh

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Yesterday's Lie" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who absolutely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

Here it is! The midseason finale of The Owl House Season Two! An episode featuring Luz going back to the human realm, is hyped up to heaven about how painful it'll be for the audience, and features more anxiety by how Creepy Luz is a thing. And BOOOOOOOOY howdy were fans not ready for this. I'm sure as hell not ready for when I wrote this intro at *checks time* thirty minutes before watching the official premier. Yup, the words you're reading right now are from me in the past, when everything was still pure and simple. Whereas future me is still probably destroyed by the events that transpired. Isn't that right, future me?

Future Me: Actually, it wasn’t that bad. The ending hurt, sure, but other than that, it wasn’t too painful.

Wow, that is some neat input! At least, I think it was. I wouldn't know because I literally wrote that after watching the episode. With the words you're currently reading being written at *checks time* twenty-six minutes before the premier...this whole intro is confusing, isn't it, future me?

Future Me: Sure is.

Yeah, it's definitely confusing. In any case, let's dive into this spoiler-filled review as we find out together just how painful this episode was! Take it away, future me!

Future Me: Will do! Major spoilers ahead, folks!

Now, let’s review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz’s Room: We only see it for a short time, but everything about it just screams Luz. The pile of weird-looking stuffed animals, the witch hat in the center of the floor, and the fact that she has bunk beds, a single child's dream (Or so I've heard). It's a small thing, but I love it.

Vee: Here she is! The character previously dubbed Creepy Luz who now turns out to be yet another new addition to the ever-growing list of characters that we, as a fandom, would give our lives for. Because holy s**t was Vee the best type of expectation subversion. Showing us all the ominous ways of how she basically took Luz's place made fans assume that Vee was an evil doppelganger. Turns out, she was just a tortured soul that was desperate to live a new and better life and lucked out in finding Luz's. What Vee does is...questionable at best, but seeing what she went through with the experiments Belos pulled on her, you understand why she would do it. And I personally love it's that same background information that makes Vee resentful of Luz of all people. Luz's life is a relative dream come true, and running away from that would be insane to someone who spent most of their existence through imprisonment and experimentation. It's an intriguing point of view, even though it's admittingly flawed given how it's mostly Camila that seemingly made Luz's life bearable. But the flaws don't matter. What matters is that you can see where Vee is coming from, and to me, personally, I think she's understandable enough to make me root for her to have some kind of happy ending. Whether as Luz or as herself, I'm hopeful to see Vee get some semblance of peace.

Camila: *Round of applause* Don't mind me! Just taking the time to love how all them sons of b**hes who thought Camila was a bad mom are now heavily invalidated. 'Cause, guess what? Camila is a fantastic mother, both to her daughter and her daughter's doppelganger! Allow me to walk you through the highlights:

How Camila looks like she’s not okay with the fact that "Luz" is clearing out her weird stuff, seemingly acting too different to the Luz she knows. Added to the fact that Camila doesn't like it.

How Camila drove Luz to camp whether than letting her take the bus

The fact that Camila takes that box of junk back in, not willing to part with the tin foil sculpture Luz made.

The way she was willing to play along with the game she thought Luz was doing, supporting her daughter's creative mind that Camila admits to being glad to see.

And, best of all, the willingness Camila had to help this poor creature, despite the lies it lived.

It's that last part I really want to touch upon, though. Because an action like that shows just how much Luz's heart comes from Camila. The kindness and generosity of helping this poor creature, who she has every right to run out on, proves how Luz learned to be everything she is today through Camila's own loving heart. Vee was scared and hurt, and the second Camila saw that she was then more than willing to help because of it. It's something that Luz would do, and it proves that even though Camila didn't exactly get everything right, she's still a great mom where it counts.

“A new life”: A perfect line.

Initially, it makes audiences think that it has everything to do with replacing Luz. It's only through future context that we know it's about escaping the s**t show Vee once lived through that it's clear she's talking about starting over. It hits us with intrigue on the first viewing, only to hit harder with the feels during a second. Really well-done.

Luz in the Mirror: A well-done surprise that makes fans curious about how this even happen in the first place. Kudos to you, writers.

The New Portal: I don't mind that they found a way to build this off-screen. Showing Luz and the gang slowly building a new portal would have been a little too tedious to watch, and it's so much better to just start this episode out with it. Besides, maybe we'll get the slow and steadier version now that we've seen how quickly building one might not have been the best way to go, given how fast that thing fell apart.

Luz Between Dimensions: I have no clue what the hell that place she was in is called, but it's awesome! The overall design of the realm is the correct type of unsettling, like it's oozing with mystery, but it's somewhere that you probably don't want to be in for too long. Whoever designed it deserves all of the credit because I don't want to even think about all the hard work that went into making this look as well-made as it was.

Luz Resisting to See Amity: What? Luz and Amity are adorable, and seeing Luz's immediate thought about seeing Amity makes my shipping heart scream with glee. Don't judge me!

Hiding Luz’s Dad’s Face: Well, that was a fun story while it lasted.

So, it turns out that Luz's dad really was a part of Luz's and Camila's life at some point, but not anymore. As for why remains to be seen, as we don't really know yet if we'll see him make an appearance. I'd say that the odds are high that he will, given how much of a point this episode made about keeping his face hidden. Shows don't usually do that unless the goal is to hype up some official reveal, and I can't wait to see what comes of it.

Luz Telling Herself to Count to Five: Hey, more evidence for how I relate to Luz! I know how it feels to be all panicky about a specific situation, and I only got better when I took the time to calm down for a bit. Sometimes, I even tried the "count to x" method that Luz used...it never worked, primarily because it made me feel worse when people told me to do it, but I still tried it! Plus, there's also some narrative foreshadowing when after Luz says five, the realm shows her Vee, or Number V, which is a pretty cool detail you'll notice on a rewatch.

Luz Helping Vee: I gave Camila praise for helping Vee in the end, but that doesn't abstain Luz from her own set of recognition. The second that Luz realized that Vee wasn't really a threat and is far from evil, our favorite human does what she can to help and even makes a deal where they're both happy. Because, of course, Luz is that perfect of a protagonist who is more than willing to help others in need. And it's why we love her so.

Looking for Magic that Eda Left Behind: A pretty cool idea that gives Luz and Vee a chance to bond and giving us an insight into Eda's past antics and misadventures in the human realm. Not much I can add to it, though.

Gravesfield: It's surprisingly not as jarring as I thought it would be to spend an episode in the human realm. I thought for sure, after all that time in the Boiling Isles, there would be something off about walking around a normal environment for a change. Turns out, it's almost easy to get used to. Or, for me, it is.

But I will say that there's this neat use of colors when comparing Gravesfield with the Boiling Isles. In Gravesfield, the coloring looks dulled down and standard, which is a stark contrast to the bright vibrancy of everything we've seen in the Boiling Isles. It's a subtle way of showing how things are different, aside from the major discrepancies we could come to expect. And I think that's why I appreciate it much more.

Eda’s Called Herself Marylynn in the Human Realm: Hang on...hang on...do you mean to tell me that the crack theory about Eda being Stan's ex-wife is actually true?

...

...What even is this show?!

Vee Making Friends with Camp Members: This shows the most apparent difference between Luz and Vee. Where we see Luz is already fearing the many ways that could go wrong with interacting with teens, Vee revealed that she adapted to her situation and had a chance to make friends. The implications of this are worth discussing another time, but for now, I'll say that it's pretty intriguing that we gain this much insight into both Luz and Vee through such a small thing.

Belos Wanting to Learn How Basilisks can Drain Magic: ...Didn't Raine say that Belos was taking away magic? If so, I think we can figure out how he's doing it. The question now is: Why?

Jacob (The Curator Guy): This guy was a riot. At first, Jacob seemed like a threat with the way he trapped Vee and was apparently stocking her, but the second he goes off about his conspiracy theories, it becomes clear what type of character he is. And was it a blast seeing how much of a crackpot this man is. It wasn't cool seeing him wanting to dissect the precious angel that is Vee, but I still chuckle about things like his "Flat Eather's Certificate." So while he's not that much of a threat, he's still fun to watch.

The Owl Beast was in the Human Realm: ...How did that happen? When did it happen? And how the hell did Eda get out of a situation like that?! Who knows, but it's still a shocking piece of news to learn.

Luz Telling Camila the Truth: Hey, she faced her fear after all! Although, the results aren't as pleasant as when Amity faced her fear two weeks ago.

Camila is a Veterinarian: ...One insignificant reveal...managed to destroy so many fanfics. I mean, we probably shouldn't have just assumed Camila was a nurse...but what the f**k else were we supposed to think?! Sorry for seeing the scrubs, and the first thing that came to my mind was "nurse" and not "vet."

By the way, that had to have been intentional, right? There's no way that Dana Terrace didn't think we'd assume Camila was a nurse. She'd had to have put off a reveal like that just to trip up her fans. And if that's the case, then that is a major d**k move...but that's why I mildly respect it.

Two Human Brothers went to the Demon Realm: Turns out we don't have to be in the Boiling Isles to learn more about it. Because now we have more information about how two humans were taken to the Isles with the help of a witch, thus setting up a grander reveal if it turns out that one of the humans was Philip and the witch was Belos. Because if that's true...then there's more of a history between those two than we thought.

Jacob has a Training Wand: This helps me believe that it's highly likely for Jacob to make a return and to have a power boost for when he does. After all, focussing all that attention on the training wand is way too convenient for it not to come up again in the future. Meaning we're most likely going to get more pain from Jacob if he shows up again.

Camila Beats the Crap out of Jacob for Vee: ...Writers, don't make me choose between Camila and Eda on who's the better cartoon mom. I know Eda's technically not a mom...BUT I STILL DON'T WANT TO CHOOSE DAMNIT!

Also, the sandal...just...

Why the f**k does Camila have a sandal in her purse? I don't know. Is it still funny that she does? Most certainly.

Camila and Luz’s Talk in the Rain: Ooooooooh, I was not ready for this...

I wasn't ready for the crying.

I wasn't ready for the hurt in Camila's eyes when she found out Luz chose to stay in the Boiling Isles.

I wasn't ready for Camila asking if Luz hates being with her that much.

I wasn't ready for Luz profusely stating how it was never Camila's fault.

I was not ready for Camila to tell Luz that she'll try to do better.

And I definitely was not ready for Luz to barely have enough time to promise that she'll come back.

This episode wasn't the twenty-two minutes of nonstop angst that I thought it was going to be...but this short scene more than make up for it.

Luz Tries to Stay Strong: Yet another thing she unwittingly learned from Camila. Camila tried to keep a brave face when Vee was with her and Luz, most likely not wanting to tear either of them down in the process. Luz does the same thing here as she avoids talking about the details of what went down in her sort-of journey back home. And seeing her clearly fake smile slowly droop into an uncertain frown, it uh...it definitely tore me up inside.

WHAT I DISLIKED

I want to say it's perfect, but there's one major issue that really bogs this episode down.

Continuity Error in How Vee Replaced Luz: Having Vee take Luz's place the same day Luz appeared in the Isles is a smart idea on paper...if it wasn't for the fact that it's impossible.

Because Eda closed the portal door the second that she saw Luz, meaning that there's no way for Vee to go to the human realm. It's a major plothole that makes no sense, and it might just be the first time ever that this series wasn't so closely knit with its story. Which ends up taking a dive in quality in the process.

IN CONCLUSION

I'd say that "Yesterday's Lie" is an A-. Everything about Luz, Vee, and Camila is incredible, combined into a story that ends in tragedy and uncertainty for the future. That plothole may drag things down a bit, but everything else is handled so well that I'm not lying when I say it's easy to forgive and forget.

(And that's ten episodes in a row without a single stinker. HOW THE F**K DOES THIS SEASON KEEP WINNING?!)

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #luz noceda #camila noceda #camila is a good mom ok! #toh vee #emperor belos #what i thought about #the owl house reviews

[ellasadventuresinfandoms]

Okay, back in May @isolatedphenomenon asked me if I had an les mis fic recs and I went "oh boy do I !" and then promptly fucked off and disappeared from tumblr for like 6 months...

Anyway on the off chance people are interested, here is my vastly too long list of  my favourite les mis fanfic (that I'm almost 100% sure I'll have accidentally missed some of my favourites off of...)

The vast majority of these are main pairing Enjolras/Grantaire, so I've put those first, divided into multi-chaptered and then one-shots. Below that will be other pairings!

Multi-chaptered

• Witch Boy Series : magic AU, starting with Grantaire solving Enjolras' curse - this is just Incredible world building which gets better as it goes on - my favourite is the Babet interlude

• World Ain't Ready : you know how fandoms tend to have a fic that is just associated with it ? in my experience, for les mis this is it - and well deserved ! High school, fake dating AU with some of the most engaging writing

• BE : Enjolras is dragged back into theatre production, helping Eponine put on a production of Hamlet - really love the characterisation in this, and this is really one of those modern AUs that actually feels like real life - really good writing

• After the End : the definitive apocalypse AU in my eyes - les amis are an underground resistance to the dystopian government - really wonderful characterisation of Grantaire and the amis

• You never have to wonder; you never have to ask. : I tend to find fic by scrolling through bookmarks of a pairing, which means I often see repeats; this is a fic that if I see I just re-read cause I know I'll enjoy it - the amis sparked a failed rebellion, and now 18 months later Grantaire ends up staying at Enjolras' after returning to Paris for Marius and Cosette's wedding

• Your Heart on Your Skin : Soulmate AU with flower tattoos marking important emotions and events - wonderful concept and world building 

• Impatient to Be Free : Daughters of Bilitis AU - if that doesn't make you excited I don't know what else to say to convince you (aside from saying the author is a simply wonderful writer)

• You Dance Dreams : Okay. Not to be over dramatic, but this fic did genuinely qualitatively change my life, in that it was the first thing that got me looking up contemporary ballet and now that's like one of my favourite things and big hobby So. Also its really great writing; music/creative arts school les amis with Grantaire choreohraphing the ballet for Combeferre's opera, with a heavy emphasis on Grantaire realising he really never actually got over Enjolras

• philia : this one is an absolute classic to me, but not given nearly enough recognition - one of the more realistic college AUs ever written, and the writing of Grantaire is so good because it hits the perfect balance of sympathy and annoyance about his behaviour (that's a genuine compliment) 

• Coffee Hooligans : fucking tragedy this never got properly finished, Enjolras leads the amis as social justice vigilantes and tries to hide the criminal bits of his life from R

• Fighting the Hurricane : Pacific Rim AU that's less an AU and more just placing the les mis characters in the Pacific Rim universe. Really good and riveting read, also super interesting depiction of Grantaire

• Weaving Olden Dances : Fairy AU - Grantaire "claims" Enjolras to prevent his execution - really good writing, love Grantaires characterisation 

• Paris Burning : canon era (sort of) where cities have a physical being - Grantaire is Paris and becomes entangled in Enjolras' revolution - oh the world building is truly *chefs kiss*

• Euphoria is You For Me : Enjolras and Grantaire keep meet cuting in a wonderfully written Brooklyn - feels like a love letter to Brooklyn at times, and I really like the characterisation of Grantaire 

• so please just fall in love with me this christmas : Enjolras works for the environmental company Grantaire volunteers at, and keeps getting secret gifts at Christmas - I sound a little like a broken record but the Grantaire characterisation is very good

• You Are the Moon : Wild West esque Space AU - Grantaire has to call on the amis to help rescue Valjean and Cosette, despite Grantaire leaving the amis 6 months before. On re-reading the Enjolras characterisation feels a little rushed, but overall fantastic story telling and the Grantaire arc is a Delight 

• Pandemos : Enjolras is aphrodite, and seeks peace from all his suitors in R/Hephestus' cave

• Pining for You : Hallmark christmas romance - Grantaire returns home to work on his father's tree farm, and Enjolras is the lawyer helping prevent the farm being sold - cute as shit imo

• Once We're Kings : Fantasy AU - a country hosts a ball to marry Prince Enjolras and the rival country sends Grantaire as a fuck you - one of the best ways of doing Enjolras as a prince in a fantasy and just really nicely written

• Never Bitter and All Delicious : Fairy Godmother AU - yes really, yes its genuinely a very good read

• On One Condition : Fantasy AU - Enjolras is a bored knight who finally goes to check out the local dragon, which turns out to be Grantaire - I really like how they capture Enjolras' stubborn nature and it's such a well written soft growth of love between them

• That's How Easy Love Can Be : Les Amis work at a primary school; and its secret santa time! very fun portrayal of Enjolras

• The Lark and Her Lieutenants : re write of canon where Cosette is the leader of the revolution - just *chefs kiss*

• If You Tickle Us, Do We Not Laugh : Grantaire is Enjolras' secret android - really good at writing a relationship that's incredibly loving but just keeps being antagonistic and coming off wrong 

One Shots

• True Colours : AU where you leave colours on the people important to you - Enjolras and Grantaire falling for each other is so soft and gently written its lovely, this is genuinely one of my favourites

• Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right : this one is so good to me, because it builds off my pet hatred of everyone assuming Enjolras doesn't care about (or at least actively show he cares about) his friends

• blooming : very soft post-dystopian utopia that has just a really wonderful sense of hope and light to me

• and the wall leaned away (or: The Pros and Cons of Tilling) : perfectly realised characterizations of the amis, Grantaire needs a date to her final year art exhibition - deals with anxiety over protest in a way that actually hits for me

• not just one of the crowd : R helps run a leftist bakery and bike repair shop - very cute characterisation, and I think more les mis fanfic should link to anarchist essays

• Lovesickness : Enjolras is an idiot and thinks he's sick rather than having a crush - the writing of Joly and Combeferre in this is some of my favourite depictions of these two

• If there's a rocket, tie me to it : absolutely heartbreaking sci-fi AU about the amis as doomed mecha pilots

• Where I Fall is Where I Land : Enjolras is a Roman commander as Rome's power is leaving England, and then meets the pict Grantaire (+ fun soulmark stuff !)

• You Started Foreign to Me : Enjolras moves to america and R is the overnight grocery clerk who helps her learn Spanish - cute fluffy lesbians with a wonderfully written driven Enjolras

• Love Is Touching Souls : very cute soulmate AU - and one I really love for really truly considering the implications of soul marks and creating historical lore around it

• Ten Years : R is a musician, and it non-linearly charts his relationship to Enj from high school to 10 years later

• put up with me then I'll make you see : Grantaire lives above Enjolras, and its christmas - I find it to have a very fun interpretation of pining Enjolras

• A Cat Called Trash Can : this was one of the first les mis fics I ever read (yes I know it says it was published in 2020, but I think it has to be a re-upload or something?) and it does still have a special place in my heart - Grantaire rescues a cat, but Enjolras is the only one with an apartment free to look after it 

• Still I'm Begging to Be Free : inception AU where les amis have to rescue a sleeping R from his own brain

•I'm in it for You : cw: illness, cancer - R has cancer and is being a martyr about telling his friends so Enjolras drives him back from chemo

• walls come tumbling down : sky high au - a very good high school AU with the perfect level of campy superhero powers

• This brave new world's not like yesterday : Enjolras needs a job, so ends up working in a bowling alley with Grantaire and bonding

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

• In Defiance of All Geometry : les amis are a student co-op house, Enjolras and Combeferre are pining friends and Grantaire is the newbie

• Still the Same : this is very good writing and very compelling - if you can get over the (imo) plot hole of Enjolras working for the FBI. R was an art thief Enj put away and is briefly helping the FBI out, and Combeferre is Enjolras' husband

• To Kingdom Come : cw: war and PTSD from that, Enjolras and Combeferre are part of a group of refugees that have crossed into a more fantasy land, and Grantaire is a lone traveller from that land that attempts to help - that was a shit summary of this very emotional, wonderfully written fic about war and love in all forms

• Gonna need (a spark to ignite) : I always love a twist on a classic trope, and this is a very fun take on the soulmate AU - Enjolras loses feeling in his soul mark as a child, falls in love with Grantaire and then his soulmate, Combeferre, turns up

Eponine/Cosette

• Pretty Girls Don't Know the Things That I Know : simply stunning writing - perfect example of soft writing about a harsh world

• she knows her way around : Eponine and Cosette bond, ostensibly so Eponine can find out about her for Marius, and their interactions are so playful and realistic, its wonderful

• always find me floating on oceans : Cosette stows away on Eponine's pirate ship - I do always have a soft spot for eposette fics (not just cause I ship it) because they truly characterise Cosette in a really considered and interesting way

• There's No Making Love : I'm putting this under eposette even though there is some significant enjolras/grantaire content, because the Cosette characterisation is so fun and cute

• round and round again : this fic really beautifully translates Cosette's bad childhood and then isolated teenage years, and the impact that would have on her as an adult into a modern AU

• Underwater Thunderheards : this is based off the book The Scorpio Races, and is just a really nice short fic  about longing

• How To Change The World Without Taking Power : Marius has a crush on Cosette and she's tried being polite and subtle in turning him down, so just ends up fake dating Eponine instead

• blood red fruit and poison's kiss : Snow White AU - Cosette as Snow White

• The Winters Cannot Fade Her : Snow White Au 2.0 - Eponine as Snow White - this was written as a pair to the one above which is just so cute to me

• marriage à la mode : Cosette and Eponine run a bridal shop together and it's very cute !

• Temporary Hold : I personally find this a really fun and very unique take on Cosette - with exams coming up she decides she needs to get laid on the reg and so hits up Eponine to act as if they're already long term girlfriends

Combeferre/Courfeyrac

• better than you had it : fake dating but kick it up an emotional notch - Courf and Ferre pretend to still be together after breaking up for a family event

• take flight, come near : nice and cute low fantasy, where Combeferre runs a dragon sanctuary and Courf finds an injured dragon

Rare Pairs

• The Future's Owned by You and Me : cute Enjolras/Feuilly with actual radical politics and real life organising difficulties and wins

• First Dates and Other Dangers : Combeferre and Grantaire agree to go on a blind date and it's awkward until it isn't - just cute !

• after midnight : Combeferre has insomnia and meets Grantaire in various all night fast food chains

• as you are : Bahorel and Jehan getting ready together

• Almost Romantic : Jehan works at a museum, and takes Combeferre on a little tour

• Understudy : Jehan/Combeferre, with Combeferre's insecurities regarding being seen as second best to Enjolras

• Here There Be Dragons : Courf/Enj/Ferre - Courf and Enj are superheroes and Ferre is the doctor that patches them up

• To Let it Occur (Laisser Faire la Nature) : Feuilly has a stupidly long stopover in Paris and meets Enjolras

• rule of three : Courf/Enj/Ferre as spies and loving boyfriends

• Good Rhetoric : snapshots of cute cuddly courf/enj/ferre

• subluxate, dislocate, replace : found family and chronic illness with Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

• Strike stone, strike home (like lightning) : so this fic took one minor piece of lore about Tolkien's dwarves and made a beautiful j/b/m fic from it

• Almost Inevitable : Bahorel/Feuilly friends-with-benefits

• god only knows (what I'd be without you) : Bahorel/Feuilly with a closeted Feuilly and a beautiful Feuilly and Eponine friendship

#les miserables #fanfic rec #les mis #les miserables fanfic #les miserables fanfic rec

[lesbiansforboromir]

Impossible LotR Quiz Answer sheet with explanations!

As an addendum, since people have been doing the quiz I’ve seen a few mistypes and awkwardnesses that are my own fault so I’ve corrected them. This means some people got a higher score than was shown, know that when I looked over your answers I saw your actually right answers and fully appreciated them! It’s good to not that the ‘fill in the blanks’ questions will not take two words in one space, so I’ve had to get creative with how I apply two named folk like Mardil Voronwe, or people who have numbers like Hurin I.

I would also like to say, to everyone talking about how they’ve never read the Silmarillion, this quiz is very purposefully almost entirely based outside of the Silmarillion. This is Appendices stuff! Indeed there is only 1 question even tangentally related to elves in here, this is by design. 

@magaramach, @brynnmclean and @apojiiislands asked to be tagged in this! Answers under the cut. 

Q2. Who was Dora Baggins in relation to Bilbo Baggins? - Second cousin on his father's side Dora Baggins is a very elderly woman who was the daughter of Bilbo’s father’s brother. She likes writing people a lot of unsolicited advice! THIS WAS WRONG AND SAID FIRST COUSIN FOR SO LONG AND I AM DEEPLY SORRY FOR IT.

Q3. How many pairs of biological twins are mentioned in the whole of Arda's timeline and what races do they belong too? - 2 for men, 1 for elves and 3 for half-elves Fastred and Folcred, Haleth and Haldar (men) Amrod and Amras (elves) Elured and Elurin, Elrond and Elros, Elladan and Elrohir (half-elves) Now, admittedly Elladan and Elrohir are never actually described as twins. However they appear completely identical and have the same birth date, so it is assumed.

Q4. Baldor is who the skeleton scratching at the door used to be. When Aragorn and co pass through the paths of the dead they find a skeleton clawing at a door to the mountain. It is finely dressed and described as mighty and was later essentially confirmed to be Baldor, the eldest son of King Brego of Rohan, also called Baldor the hapless, who foolishly wandered into the paths of the dead on, apparently, a dare. (the answer to this was originally Brego because of a foolish typo from me, many apologies!)

Q5. When was the Ondonóre Nómesseron Minaþurie written? - During Meneldil's reign. “Enquiry into the Place-names of Gondor” was a text written by settled numenoreans about their new kingdom during Meneldil’s reign, who was the first sole King of Gondor after both Anarion (his father) and Isildur had perished.   

Q6. Farmer Maggot's particular friend was Tom Bombadil  It is stated that Farmer Maggot sometimes peacefully passes through the Old Forest to go and meet Tom Bombadil, who very much enjoys his company. However! Those who answered Merry or Pippin still deserve excellent recognition, Farmer Maggot was indeed fond of Pippin and respected Merry greatly.

Q7. What was the office of the Steward originally created to do? - Keep the Tradition of Isildur When Romendacil I went to war in the east, he realised that if he died then the secret of the Tradition of Isildur would die with him. Hence he wrote it down in a sealed scoll and gave it to a trusted confidante, to be given to his heir if he should perish. This tradition was maintained by further kings and those trusted confidantes became the Stewards of Gondor. This, admittedly, is a more suggested progression than explicit, but it’s a Impossible evil quiz so :) Q8. What was the 'Tradition of Isildur'? - Remember where Elendil was buried. Elendil had been secretly entombed in Calenardhon, supposedly the midpoint between Gondor and Arnor. This was a hallowed space for only Kings at first, but in later years when the Stewards came to rule Gondor they also were permitted the secret. Cirion had the remains moved when Calenardhon was gifted to the Eotheod to eventually become a part of the Kingdom of Rohan. 

Q9. At the time of Pelargir's founding, is the world flat or round? - Flat. Pelargir was founded as a ‘Faithful Numenorean’ haven on the river Anduin. Therefore it was built before Numenor’s destruction in the Akallabeth, the reason for which being that Eru turned the world from flat to round. 

Q10. Which of these monarchs were indolent and had no interest in ruling? - King Atanatar I - King Narmacil I - Tar-Vanimelde King Atanatar I ruled during Gondor’s richest generation and seemed to believe that meant he didn’t need to put any work in. Narmacil I, his son, didn’t want to put any work in, but he at least assigned his nephew, Minalcar, as ‘Karma-Kundo’ or regent during his reign. So he at least did something to keep the country going. Tar-Vanimelde had no interest in ruling and allowed her husband to do most of the governence. This backfired when she died and he organised a coup against his son to hold power.

Q11. When looking back on the Ship-Kings of Gondor, King Tarannon Falastur began the invasion of Harad and expanded Gondor's borders, King Earnil-I finally took Umbar but died at sea shortly afterwards, King Ciryandil spent most of his reign trying to defend Umbar and died in it's seige and King Hyarmendacil defended Umbar against seiges for 35 years before making war upon all Harad and claiming Harondor as a province of Gondor, ending the line of the Ship Kings.

Q12. What happened during the reign of King Romendacil II? - I don't know! Nothing? Yes I know this is particularly evil of me but Romendacil II was originally called Minalcar, yes the same Minalcar who became REGENT of Gondor due to Narmacil’s indolent nature. Minalcar indeed did everything else listed as answers to this question, but none of them happened during his reign as king. Indeed, his reign was said to be peaceful and we have no real information on it, so technically saying we don’t know, and suggesting nothing happened, is actually the most correct answer :)

Q13. Who succeeded Tar-Telperien of Numenor? - Her nephew, Minastir Tar-Telperien was a lesbian Queen of Numenor who never married and never wanted too and did an excellent job and I love her. Her nephew built a tower to mope in about how much he wanted to be an elf. They are not the same. Absolutely terrified about what Amazon could do to her. 

Q14. Whilst his brethren, the nazgul, were attacking the Prancing Pony, The Witch-King was waiting in the Barrow Downs and probably had a really nice time. Not much to this! Witch King was chilling with the Barrow Wights. 

Q15. Which of these characters are described as 'beautiful' at least once in the Lord of the Rings? - Galadriel, Denethor, Eowyn, Frodo, Elanor, Celeborn, Boromir Yes, Arwen is never described as beautiful, but Denethor is :)

Q16. We all love Boromir II, select the similarities he and Boromir I did NOT share. - Renowned relationship with the Rohirrim. - Destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath - Feared by the Witch King - Retook Ithilien. - Had a brother. In case you’re wondering, yes, I love both Boromirs. But this question is a fun highlight of how many similarities Boromir II has with his namesake. These are the only things they didn’t both do. Although! Boromir I’s son was Cirion who allied with the Eotheod and created Rohan in the first place, the Uruk-Hai destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath in Boromir I’s lifetime, Boromir II was PROBABLY feared by the witch-king we just don’t know, Boromir II held Ithilien and Boromir I had two elder sisters like Denethor II did.

Q17. Hey, did you know that, from Boromir I's war with the Uruk-Hai of the Morgul Vale, Gondor didn't know peace until Sauron's death on the 25th of March, 3019? Hah hah! How gut wrenching is that? About how long do you think it has been since Gondor knew peace then? Hey wait does that mean Boromir I's valiant victory that came at a personal sacrifice was the beginning of Gondor's wars and then Boromir II's valiant sacrifice was the end- oh god... oh fuck - 550 years To everyone who answered the crossed out answer,,, you’re correct in my heart. You get bonus points. Also hey! What the fuck :) 

Q18. Who was Borondir? - The rider sent to find Eorl who made it to him after starving himself for two days but who then rode to the Celebrant with Eorl anyway and died in that battle. Literally couldn’t love this fellow more. Big Hirgon energy. A hero of Gondor for time immemorial. 

Q19. The Ruling Stewards, from first to last (with their numbers typed as so Turin-I Hurin-II etc), were as follows; Mardil ; Eradan ; Herion ; Belegorn ; Hurin-I ; Turin-I ; Hador ; Barahir ; Dior ; Denethor-I ; Boromir-I ; Cirion ; Hallas ; Hurin-II ; Belecthor-I ; Orodreth ; Ecthelion-I ; Egalmoth ; Beren ; Beregond ; Belecthor-II ; Thorondir ; Turin-II ; Turgon ; Ecthelion-II ; Denethor-II ; and for like two seconds ; Faramir ; Alrighty, we had a bit of a fight in my discord about this but eventually I did relent in agreement that Faramir IS... very briefly... legally considered a RULING Steward. Ruling Stewards being Stewards that ruled a Kingless Gondor. But! With Aragorn RIGHT THERE is just seemed very redundant. Still! I’ll allow the pedant to win out, ten minutes is still a Ruling Steward. ALSO! I decided that having an extra box for the ‘voronwe’ part of mardil voronwe was just mean as it set everyone’s answers off kilter, so I removed that. ALSO for all of those calling me a bastard for adding this question, @illegalstargender was the one who requested it! I wasn’t going too! 

Q20. The Stewards, despite ruling through very tumultuous and violent periods, were often known for boring things (because they simply ruled better than the Kings did, I said what I said) But what boring thing was Steward Turin I remembered for? - Being the only monarch of Gondor that married twice This skeezy bastard really did marry a second time during his OLD age just to father a son. I can only imagine what a dreadful cultural and social effect this had on this prude country. It’s so unnecessary! He had daughters, many of them! One of them certainly had a son before he did. He was just being a controlling arse, down with Turin I!!!!

#my quiz

[angelic-serenade]

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty 

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms) 

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #reader insert #x reader #headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor headcanons #hazbin oc #fandom prompts #hazbin hotel alastor #gender neutral s/o #s/o #fluff #alastor fluff #cute #love #yandere #just a little of you squint #alastor x you #you #charlie #vaggie #Angel dust #alastor imagine #imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blog #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #hazza styles #hazza blurbs #daddy harry

[jewishfem]

do you know any ways that alleviate dysphoria without transitioning? i kinda just woke up from my trans nightmare. i'm female if ur wondering. if you don't know, could you redirect me to a blog that does?

Hey anon, so, i had written down my own advice, and also asked my friends, many of whom are detrans and have suffered from dysphoria.

But first I want to say that I'm glad you woke up. It's hard to leave and change a mindset that felt right with our feelings even if not with our common sense.

Forst are my friends' advices. I'm copying it as they are, without paraphrasing (only certain replacement, [like this]. My own advice is below my friends', as i believe theirs to be more experienced.

Without further ado, here are all the advices:

——

— Hello!

It's been a LONG time since I've experienced dysphoria(I detransitioned).

It feels like your mind doesn't belong in the current body you're in and that you want to just rip [your] skin off. (Mental health issue)

For me, I wished I could just close my eyes and never wake up. Or be "reborn" a male instead of female and just some...other thoughts along the lines.

How did I "get over it"?

I...guess I surrounded myself with more positive influences. I grew up in an abusive household that held sexist views. When I left, I could think clearly for myself.

I suppose my suggestion for her would be to try and find some positive influences(ex. Could be as simple as hangout out with loved ones, finding role models,etc) in her life and think critically(ex. "Why would you feel better if you transitioned to male?")

I realized I wanted to transition to escape my life...and also because I had internalise misogyny to where I did not think I was "allowed" to do certain things because I was born a female...

— Something to have her consider is that what she likes, and who she is doesn’t change what she is. She is female. A woman. A girl. Zero percent of her outside world or her mind can impact this. I hear a lot of young women trans [recte transition] because they feel like they enjoy masculine things. Well, if a woman does it it’s a women’s thing. Gender tells us women should only pursue and enjoy certain things and not others. This is just simply, False with a capital F.

Another help is recognizing that the way porn and indeed most media presents women to the world is also False. That is not what and how sex is. You don’t have to like it or accept it to be a woman. It is at odds with womanhood.

To reconnect and learn to love your body and accept it, a trick I learned a long time back is to focus on what your body does for you. Rather than how it looks while it does it.

Look at your bones and muscles working together so you can walk and stand and pick things up. Dance. Run. Your throat and lungs do this cool thing where you can speak. Sing. Your heart, keeps your body supplied with nutrients from your digestive system. Digestive system all on its own without any prompting, turns food into fuel for this amazing robot suit that is your body. Brain can interpret every single impulse from every nerve in your body. In real time. It allows you to connect with the outside world and experience it. But you also get to control it. Meditation, therapy exercises, physical exercise, these things have an impact on your brain. And you choose to do them.

Your body and your experience in it is really remarkable.

Thighs aren’t fat. They’re strong for carrying you around. Arms aren’t skinny. They are perfect for hugging loved ones. Eyes aren’t too small, they allow you to see the world around you. Focusing on what the body does takes that focus away from what it doesn’t look like. Breasts? Nourish new life in a way nothing else can. Don’t want children. That’s ok. Just recognize what your breasts can do. They don’t have to do it. Uterus and ovaries? Literally creates a human life from two single cells. You have the power of creation in side you. Whether you use it or not. Period? This amazing way your body protects itself from non viable pregnancies and keeps your body safe. Periods are the ultimate cleanse. And your body does it for you. All on its own.

These are the thoughts that help me deal with having a female body and accepting it.

— The thing that helped me most was radical body acceptance. Just 'this is me and I accept that I am the way I am'. Idk how effective it would be for that individual but it was foundational for me overcoming my dysphoria

====

My advice:

~ it's sometimes impossible to look at the mirror. The body feels bad and ugly and overall just wrong. But it's ours. It's ours to keep, and not to destroy. Expose yourself to yourself gradually. Especially the parts that make you at most unease. Treat it like a phobia, or some forms of allergies. Gradual exposure can help. First, love the parts you can't see — your heart, your lungs, dammit, tell your tendons you love them (!) because they're part of you.

Slowly reach parts you feel most dysphoric about. You'll already know how to love your other parts. Your hands that let you touch loved ones, hold them, rub a cute cat or dog. Your mouth and your stomach that tear apart these nutrients into the most basic units. Your skin that protects you and that lets you feel sunlight and raindrops. And then, when you know how to love these more or less basic parts of you, reach the complex ones. You don't need reasons at some point, but you have the love to give and it's enough. You don't need any reason besides it's yours.

~ i suffered (and still sometimes relapse) from body dysmorphia, and well, music and self reminders helped me a lot. I drew on my skin with pens and sharpies, soccer teams logos, random lyrics. My reminder to myself, before i started giving myself good reminders was "don't fear death"" but to not fear death,,, i needed no more reminders of that. then I realized, i can remind myself more important things, of better things. Birthdays, my favorite teams' wins, my most hated teams' worst losses. Then it went to 1238 "grammar teacher said something grammatically wrong", "x mathematical axiom", drew emojis and flowers. I did so to remind me to smile, to breath clean air (as clean as possible at least). At this time of self isolation, you can leave the notes at your house. Sticky note with "the only parabola that matters is the smile" or some other body positive puns. Dysphoria is a different hatred of your body, but all self hatred can be fought with self love.

~ a feeling I still feel a lot is hat i don't deserve to live, i only take too much space. It's what brought me so quickly into dysmorphia. Try to find what brought you to dysphoria pull out the source, or face it so you know how it looks like when it sneaks up to you. Recognition and acknowledgment means you can deal with it better as it won't shock you. You'd be able to throw it out before it attacks you.

~ surround yourself with positive influences, and also avoid negative influences. If your close friend group is sexist and/misogynistic, then distance yourself from them. A lot of the self hatred comes from what we've been taught for years about ourselves. Female role models, positivity, cute little notes, etc, and surround yourself with actual body positivity.

~ creativity: Maybe start a cute bullet journal or something similar. Create things and surround yourself with your own creations. Bullet journals are a fun way to keep you busy while also help you be more productive in school and/or life. You can fill it with quotes and pretty pictures and fun doodles.

~ you and your body are not different entities. It's part of you, part of your life since birth, especially because you're female. It feels a bit degrading at first, but in reality, we are our bodies. When were stressed, our body reacts physiologically. When we see someone we love, our heart beats faster.

I remember reading something another woman wrote, saying her dysphoria is at its worst during her period, she got panic attacks every time she started getting it. We're told that our period is what makes us gross but also what makes us women/feminine, but it only makes us women, not feminine, and it's part of our physiology, it made us have lower social standing but only because men decided so. Some women don't get periods, but all those who get periods are women (and I'm not talking about TiM "periods" but real ones). It's one of the parts that can be the hardest to embrace, but it's also a reminder that we, women, are actually the most ideal creation of mother nature regarding humans. Long lasting, unrelenting, strong and (usually) the actual creating power. We're the power of creation as a means for creation, and men? Most of them only create as a means for destruction.

~ healthy lifestyle: a lot of things start looking better when we start a healthier lifestyle, especially life. Add a salad to one of the meals

~ lastly but most helpful for me was writing all my negative feelings down and then just tearing the paper apart, and afterwards throw it to different trashcans, like you'd do with an old credit card. It helped me during some of my most depressive episodes.

#detransition #mine: reply #mine: replies #anon #gender critical #i guess

[redspiderling]

Total Film Interview

OK. Guys. I realise my posts today have been particularly gloomy but. BUT. Something magical has come my way and I’d love to share it with you.

You know sometimes when talking (or raging) about Marvel, and most specifically about Natasha, it feels like throwing bottles into the ocean? 

You never expect an actual response (as in change, or improvement, or a hint that they’ve managed to connect with their audiences) that seems to be reflecting the subjects of the conversation. 

Well, imagine my shock, awe, and consequent excitement when I was reading the Black Widow cover story in Total Film, and for the first time in years I saw my thoughts reflected back at me from the creative team of the film!

Just a note before you begin reading: While there are obviously no outright spoilers through the interview, the director and the cast were entirely unafraid to describe what the film is about, in a fairly explanatory way. So if you want to be completely in the dark regarding the plot of the film, don’t read any further that this.

Seriously, this isn’t like the Endgame material where all we got was “it’s great go see it”, they really talked about the film and it was fucking glorious.

If you don’t want to be spoiled at all about this movie, let me at least assure you that after reading this cover story I am mostly convinced this film will be magnificent, and everything we’ve been wanting for Natasha for so many years (and probably some stuff we never thought we’d get to see on screen).

I don’t want to post the entire cover story because that’s just not fair to the magazine. But it was a very thorough piece and I can share with you the worthiest of quotes.

During the interview with Scarlett, she mentioned of course that she wouldn’t have been interested in making this film unless the story was good and to that, I quote:

The key was finding Cate Shortland. Marvel has made a habit of taking well-regarded indie directors [...] and giving them a multi-million dollar platform to tell superhero stories. 

Despite this, for Shortland [...] there was some hesitation at taking the job:

“Scarlett and I Skyped when I was in Australia. [...] I was still trying to work out whether I wanted to do the movie, because I just couldn’t believe that they were asking me. I just thought, What a strange mix. Me and Marvel?”

Hours of conversations were had but, eventually, the filmmaker was convinced this would be a character piece worth investigating. Shortland quickly began working with a Russian researcher to create background files for Natasha.

That was the first time that had been done in  years, she continues.

“And I remember Scarlett coming to me and saying God, I really am Russian. That was really great.”

Padding out Natasha’s background helped ground the character for Johansson like never before, and gave the writing ream new material to delve into.

Suffice to say that I literally squealed of joy when I read these lines. 

Guys, Cate has done a wonderful job already. Cate has made Natasha RUSSIAN. Something I’ve been bitching about for YEARS and yet never expected to see realised on screen.

Even better, laten during the interview Scarlett mentions that the time period was chosen specifically because there wasn’t anything major going on; and they wanted it to be a quiet time because, as Scarlett says: 

“for Natasha this was really an opportunity to not run and be self-reflective. And that’s when all this stuff creeps out.”

Digging head-first into Natasha’s story wasn’t simple. In fact, Johansson admits that the whole scripting process was “extremely stressful” because there was so much of the character’s past to explore. 

“We came to a big pitch that was super-existential and very poetic”

I’m not exaggerating when I admit that this was me reading those lines:

For the record, pitch is when your story is ready to be delivered to a producer, it’s basically the essence of the script.

Again, according to these interviews the story of the Russian family was in accordance with Feige’s vision for the film, and with the elements Shortland wanted to express through it as a story, that Natasha be viewed as a person “She’s not a superhero in those scenes; she’s a daughter or a sister.”

It’s also worthy to note that according to Scarlett they’ve made complex relationships with the other characters, tightly woven stories that are more complex than the relationships Natasha has had on film so far (I know, I know, the bar was set low, but still!)

And because Cate just had to give me another reason to love her: 

“Natasha has a fear of being loved, Shortland adds, “She’s really Teflon-coated, and she’s a fetishised character. So you don’t see, often, the depth to her. What we wanted to see was her forgive herself and allow people in. I think that’s really beautiful because it allows the audience to see her in a different way. 

What I wanted to make sure was that I connected her to the universe. I’m not talking about the Marvel Universe, but to a wider universe, so that the audience felt like she was connected to the spiritual world and she wasn’t just a woman in leather kicking ass, that she was a vulnerable, raw, angry, illogical creature who’d been damaged as a kid. How do you make sense of that as an adult? And how do you forgive those around you that have caused the trauma?

I was honest to God openly crying by this point.

Which means it’s a good thing I waited till I got home to read this, but believe you me, it gets better, because according to Weisz and Florence (bless their souls), if this material sounds heavy to you for a Marvel movie, that’s because it IS.

“This film is about the abuse of women... About Girls who are stolen”.

For Shortland, Natasha’s story naturally lean towards these more serious subjects due to the very nature of the character in comparison to the other avengers.

“She’s the only character that doesn’t have superpowers. We saw that as a strength, because she always has to dig really deep to get out of shit situations. And we just put her in a lot of hard situations. I thought about women walking to the train station being attacked, and what happens. Natasha’s like Clarice, from the Silence of the Lambs. It’s great, because when she holds her gun, it shakes. But she’s still really tough inside, and resilient. And I wanted to bring that to the character. So you’re not just watching her fly through situations, knowing she’ll get out of it. You want to see her grit and determination. And that’s what we got.

Guys, this is perfect. I already love this film. I know I will be eternally grateful to all these women for what they’ve done for us. If you can, please go out and get Total Film, they did an amazing job and they deserve to get some recognition. If I could I would frame my copy, as it is I’m putting it in a vault because I want to keep this because some day we’ll be writing articles about these people. 

It’s a huge cover story and offers a lot of information on the secondary characters as well (including Yelena who is a vastly different character to Natasha, and their reasoning behind those differences is exceptional).

#thank Thor for Scarlett #and Thank Thor for Cate #Cate Shortland #Scarlett Johansson #total film #deserves all the credit there is #for an excellent cover story #Black Widow Movie is Here

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

Insufferable (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Warnings: none?? Unless you count the fact that I don’t really know much at all about Star Wars oops

Description: The reader’s more than a little high-strung, so Leia pushes them to work more closely with Dameron. He has a way of making things more fun, especially when they get off base.

He’s insufferable.

Not that it bothers you. Much. Or that you’d ever let anyone know how peeved you are to not be the golden child of the Resistance.

Yes, you know this is a group effort and the only real thing that matters is saving lives. But back on your planet, you were important. People looked up to you. You worked your ass off to get into government, became the single youngest person on the council governing your city. They adored you. Here, you’re just another recruit.

If you had a therapist, they might tell you that you were covering for insecurities from your childhood or that you were trying to replace your fear with loathing. You’d probably agree with them. But is it so awful to want a little recognition?

Seeing him strut around the compound like he’s the Maker’s gift to all living creatures, hearing your fellow strategists whisper about “the best pilot in the Resistance.” It grates on you. You wish it didn’t, would give anything to not be this weak and arrogant and dependent on other people’s opinions. But you are, so you settle for avoiding Dameron as much as possible in order to keep yourself from making him victim to any... misplaced frustration.

It works, for awhile. The General is sharp as a tack, though, and she sees how you bristle when his name is mentioned. One day, after a particularly grueling meeting has ended, you almost run into her discussing an upcoming recon flight with the pilot. Just outside the door to the war room. Like she planned it or something.

Your suspicions are confirmed when she smiles at you in the least nonchalant manner you’ve ever seen and asks if you’ve had a chance to speak with him yet.

“(Y/n),” she explains to Dameron, “has only been with us for a few months, but she’s a brilliant strategist. Your upcoming mission may not be your most challenging one ever, but it’s always good to run through plans with someone who has a fresh perspective, yes?”

She’s looking at Dameron, but the question is addressed to both of you. The General doesn’t like friction in her ranks, unless it’s motivational, and this little one-sided rivalry has left you more discouraged than anything else. You swallow and open your mouth to agree, but Dameron beats you to it.

“Believe me, ma’am, I’m more than familiar with her work.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks before you can help yourself. It’s a small movement, but Leia catches it and declares that she will leave the two of you to discuss the details. You hope you haven’t made a terrible impression on her, but right now you’re more concerned with the way that Dameron is looking at you.

You don’t believe him. About your work, that is. He’s being polite. There’s no reason for the tiny spark of—what? Surprise? Satisfaction? It sits in your stomach, small but heavy, until he clears his throat.

“Listen, I don’t mean to inconvenience you or anything. I’m sure you have plenty of important work to be doing and I don’t want to add to the load.” His voice is sincere, but your feathers are a little ruffled anyway. Does he think you wouldn’t be helpful? That you’d be wasting your time?

“No, of course not,” you say stiffly. “You’ve probably had plenty of other people look over your plans. And it’s not, as the General said, the most dangerous mission you’ve ever undertaken.”

“You’ve got that right.” His smile is easy, if a little sheepish. You turn to walk back to your quarters, but what he says next stops you in your tracks. “D’you think... Maybe you would want to get a drink or something? When you’re less busy?”

You rotate back mechanically, blink at him until he blurts out, “I mean, I just feel like I don’t know you very well at all. And if Leia’s right about you, and I think she is, we’ll probably be seeing a lot more of each other. I like to have a good working relationship with my team.”

His team. You force a smile. “Sure. That would be nice.”

If you’re ever going to move up here, you have to play well with others. You can’t refuse Dameron outright, but you don’t have to like him.

You don’t even get to turning around this time when he says, “Well, I’m free after my flight tomorrow. I’m coming back from Tatooine, but I promise I’ll shower before I meet you. If that works for you.”

You can’t keep your eyes from widening. You thought that when he suggested getting together soon, it would be one of those things where neither of you could ever be bothered to find a time that worked and it just eventually faded until the promise was broken by default. But tomorrow is soon indeed. And you don’t even have any work to hide behind. All that has been going on for the past week is recon missions, and Dameron already said he didn’t need your help with that.

After a beat of discomfort, you come back to your senses and stutter out an affirmative. Poe — Dameron — the smile lines around his eyes crinkle.

“Great,” he says. This time, you think he means it. “I’ll see you around six?”

“Great,” you echo.

Your voice sounds off, even to you, but he doesn’t narrow his eyes slightly or cock his head in the way that you’ve come to associate with people who think you’re more than a little strange. He only gives you a jaunty and slightly awkward wave himself as he disappears around the corner.

—

You don’t know what to wear.

It’s not like you have a whole lot of choices, outside your standard-issue uniform, but still. Appearances are important, and you are meeting with the best pilot in the Resistance. For drinks, nonetheless.

Drinks suggest loose, casual fun, right? A blouse is loose. But maybe it’s a little nicer than what you normally see Dameron lounging around the compound in. Your uniform is definitely casual, but if Dameron’s going to the trouble of showering after his mission, it would be rude to turn up in your clothes like you just stepped out of the war room. Maybe you’ll just wear your black shirt and—

And you’re going to be late and that will no doubt make a worse impression than whatever you pull on. You leave your clothes to puddle on the floor as you step out of them, settling on the one white t-shirt you have and some pants made of a breathable fabric that your coworker Madyn picked up in Naboo. It’s not your most creative outfit, but materials here are limited and you doubt that Dameron will care much either way.

You’re on your way to Dameron’s room when he catches you by surprise in the hallway. His hair is slicked back, the muscles in his arms flexing through a semi-tight cotton long sleeve as he runs his right hand over his beard in a gesture you would almost call nervous, if you didn’t know any better. With his left, he’s gripping the neck of a brown-bagged bottle.

“You look nice,” you both blurt. The overlap makes him laugh and you flush. You hope it isn’t a sign of more awkwardness to come.

“Should we get going?” you ask finally. He nods, taking the lead as per usual.

You don’t bother to ask exactly where it is you’re going, although he passes right by the mess hall. You assumed “a drink” meant sitting down and having some of the stuff the pilots brought back from their various missions in an environment you both knew and were comfortable with. You should have expected Dameron to diverge from the norm.

“I thought we’d get you off base tonight, if that’s all right,” he supplies, trying to fill the silence. “You’ve only been here a few months, but all I’ve ever seen you do is work.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

If possible, you stiffen more at this comment. All through your school years, people had poked fun at you for taking work too seriously. You’d thought that ended when you got a council seat, but apparently you were considered uptight even in the Resistance, where matters were literally life-or-death.

Dameron’s voice is purposefully charming, soothing like the balm your mother used to rub over your calluses. “You’re a great analyst. Everyone thinks so. But part of what we’re fighting for here is a sense of normalcy, of the right that people have to enjoy their lives without having to worry about the First Order coming in and claiming them. Don’t you think you deserve the same?”

You’re still considering your answer when he leads you to the ship.

He seems to be a little more at home than you, here in this arena. You don’t have much experience with this type of outing. You don’t know what the protocol is. Dameron’s hitting dials and adjusting knobs that only semi make sense to you, even after your work at the base. Then he turns to you, brushing dark curls out of his eyes.

“Is this okay?”

For some reason, you can’t open your mouth to respond, so you settle for a nod that sets him back at ease. You sit down next to him and busy yourself with watching his hands move. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion that he’s doing more than strictly necessary, playing with the controls to impress you, but it’s working so you stay silent.

“Leia approved this, just so you know,” Dameron says, and you tear your gaze from where his long fingers have been playing on the dash to meet his eyes. Your face is burning.

“Good.” It’s an actual squeak that escapes from your mouth. Maker, it’s embarrassing how much you’ve started caring about the pilot’s opinion in the past few hours.

“Are you all set?”

“Yes.”

“All-righty then,” Dameron says, then immediately winces. “Forget I said that.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. Nothing else he’s done has made you feel as comfortable as this. Is it possible that he’s a little nervous too?

Before you can decide, you’re taking off, and the view literally takes your breath away.

You had almost forgotten how it felt to fly, to know that you were alone (or as alone as one could be in the space age) with the universe. You haven’t gotten to see much of anywhere yet and you can only link known coordinates to a name, so whatever Dameron has planned will certainly take you by surprise. You begin narrowing down your options.

He didn’t tell you to dress any sort of way, so you can’t be going anywhere too hot or cold. He brought his own bottle, so you’re likely not going anywhere with an established market. Somewhere isolated, maybe? Dameron strikes you as someone who would enjoy a little rugged wilderness from time to time, despite how much hair gel he uses. 

You sneak a peek at him. The dim, perpetual evening light of space bathes his profile in a glow that makes you dig your nails into your palms. It doesn’t seem fair that on top of being smart, funny, charming and the best pilot in the Resistance, he also gets to be drop-dead gorgeous. 

“We’re almost there,” he says, mistaking your glance for, what? Impatience? 

“I’ve got time,” you assure him. In reality, you have an early meeting tomorrow, but you’ll sacrifice sleep for whatever this turns out to be. 

Dameron’s normally goofy, relaxed manner has lapsed. The jokes he cracks are a little tense, like he’s not sure they land. You don’t know what to make of it. Sure, you haven’t been exactly nice to him, but surely you haven’t given him any reason to fear you, either. 

When he finally lands (effortlessly–– and you don’t think he’s just showing off), he hops off the plane first and helps you down. You don’t need his assistance. Much. But you accept the hand anyway, because it has been awhile since you’ve flown, and even though it was as smooth as could be, your body is unused to it and your legs are a little shaky. You’re so focused on the warmth of his hand in yours that it takes you a full minute to turn your attention to your surroundings. 

You’ve never seen trees like this before. The bark is almost golden, the leaves a firey red. They’re enormous and so thin near the top that they bend and sway with every breeze. Some strange birds you can’t identify drink from small white flowers that bloom in clutches. Poe gently pulls down a branch to pluck one so you can take a closer look. When he offers it to you, your stomach flutters.

“How did you find this place?”

“I do some exploring on my own from time to time. Helps to keep my flying fresh, going through different environments. But wait, I wanted to show you—”

He takes your hand gently and leads you back through the trees. You glance over your shoulder, trying to memorize where you parked, but before too long you come to an outcropping of rock that overlooks a lake as clear as glass and the directions fall away.

Tiny fish swim in the water, darting through the loopy green plants that sway at the bottom. Turtles sun themselves on floating logs. A few creatures you can’t identify crawl in and out of the water as a group, catching fish to feed their pack.

“This is...”

You’re surprised to find yourself tearing up. You’ve never been someplace like this before, where you could exist side-by-side with nature, without having to keep up appearances. You lived in the city before coming to the Resistance, and your parents had warned you of the dangers of going off on your own. But here it was as clear as the water below you that you were safe in your enjoyment.

“I thought you’d like it.”

Poe’s grinning like the cat who got the canary, and it occurs to you for the first time that he likes making the people around you happy. Not to keep up his rep as golden boy, not to get ahead, but just because he has a gift for knowing what others need.

You wrap your arms around him suddenly in an outburst of affection that you didn’t know you had in you. Your fingers brush the longer curls in the back as your arms lock over his neck and you hold for three seconds before you come back to yourself and pull away, flushed. He’s so taken back that he almost drops the bottle.

“Thank you. Really. I know I’m not the warmest person—” Not like him. He’s practically a furnace. “And I appreciate the effort you put in anyway. You didn’t have to.”

His eyebrows crinkle together and his ever-present confidence lapses. “I wanted to. Not just because we’ll be working together.”

For a moment, there’s some emotion that holds the two of you in place, but it almost dissipates when Poe brushes a hand through his hair and says, “So. Do you want to go for a swim?”

Almost.

“I thought we just came for a drink,” you say, but your tone is teasing, as it hasn’t been since you were a child. Poe seems stunned that you didn’t refuse outright. It takes him a minute to turn the charm back on.

“We can always have it after. Although I wouldn’t say no to getting you in the water a little tipsy.”

You can tell by the nervous flicker of his eyes that he’s worried he’s gone too far and you take a breath before responding. You’ve never been on a proper date before, if that’s what this is, and you’re not exactly good with romance in general. But if Poe’s making any sort of overture, you must be doing something right.

“As long as you promise to be my lifeguard-on-duty.”

You don’t know if that’s funny. Jokes don’t come naturally to you. When Poe starts laughing, you ease up, release a giggle yourself.

It feels good to be here with him, letting your laughter echo out without worrying about who’s watching.

He’s forgotten to bring cups, so you take turns drinking from the bottle, sharing stories and favorite memories until you’re steeled enough by the alcohol to make your way down to the lake itself.

It’s dusk, so there’s not enough light for him to see everything as you peel off your shirt and shimmy out of the pants, but he sees enough. You’re rewarded when he does the same and joins you.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay out there, but you join the stars reflected on the water and relax in a way you didn’t know you were capable of.

That’s when you realize that Poe Dameron is exactly as special as they say. And maybe, judging by the way he’s staring at you, he thinks you’re special, too.

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI:Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Serial Cereal Killer

Episode 2- A Sequins Of Unfortunate Events

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Contains some sequins and a dumbass Steve as we flash back to THAT night (which is why most of it is in italics) and we see the real reason Katie’s a little pissed at him! Fasten your belts, this is a long one but we think it’s worth it. Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (in an elevator and then in a bedroom) NSFW and no under 18s. A bit of angst and feelings and…yeah, stooped with two os. LONG episode but necessary cos, well, when is smut not needed???

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (yeah she likes his ass in this episode but only because it’s mostly a flashback…and we challenge anyone not to want to shake him hard at the end!)

Song for Episode:  Slow Hands by Niall Horan 

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

Oh and I just wanna give some BIG recognition for my lovely co-writer…she’s written most of this Episode. (I just provided the smut and some editing coz I’m a ho!) And it’s beautiful and clever and she deserves some praise especially as English isn’t her first language!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

“Hey Cap…” Thor nodded to Steve as he approached the bar where most of his team were stood, chatting.

“Hi fellas…can I get any of you a drink?”

They all nodded and thanked him, stating their orders. Steve turned to pay and at that point he heard Thor give a low whistle

“Holy shit…” he mumbled at the same time Clint also cursed.

“Damned…she looks good!”

“Oh for fucks sake come on guys…” Tony let out a sigh “That’s my little sister! Epically not cool.” Steve took a breath and turned to glance at Katie, his eyes widening. He couldn’t argue with Clint or Thor, she looked good. Better than good actually, stunning even. She was dressed in a tight, long sleeved green sequinned dress that was pretty damned short now he studied it. Not that he was complaining, particularly when she turned to speak to someone and he got a glimpse of how it curved over her shapely ass perfectly, leaving her toned legs on display, which looked even longer thanks to the patent black high-heel courts she was wearing. She continued her path into the room, her two-toned (“It’s called balayage, Stevie, you idiot!”) honey and dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in wave after wave of shiny, brunette locks which bounced as she walked, and he could see all the way from where he was that her eyes were lidded with some kind of gold sparkle and her lips were a dark, blood red.

Fuck! It was enough to make his pants feel tight. Really tight in fact. Steve thought she was pretty anyway, he’d be blind not to notice, and he’d seen her dolled up on so many occasions but tonight…well, tonight was something else.

She stopped, smiling and grinned, giving Romanoff a hug and the two women headed over to a table to the right.

“You’re catching flies…” Sam’s voice whispered in Steve’s ear. Steve turned instantly to look at him.

“No, that’s…I wasn’t…”

“You don’t have to pretend to me, man.” Sam grinned, taking the beer that Steve passed him as he dished the drinks out. “Pretty obvious you got feelings for the girl that go beyond friendship.”

Steve sighed and looked at Sam, preparing some kind of denial but he didn’t get the chance.

“You know she feels the same way, right?” Sam asked, “I can tell by the way she eye fucks you every time you’re in the same room.” “Sam.” Steve nearly choked on his bottle “Stop.”

“I’m just saying…” Sam grinned, “Tis the season for giving after all, if you get my drift…”

“Jesus…” Steve mumbled as Sam winked, turning to talk to Tony.

Steve fell into a conversation with Bruce, Clint and Thor about their plans for the holidays. Clint and his family were heading over to Minnesota to his in-laws, Thor was going to his Girlfriends seeing as this was the first Christmas his brother would spend behind bars, something that Steve could tell the man was a little bit upset about.

“You gotta admit.” Bruce looked at Thor, “Your brother…man, he’s not all there. His brain is a bag of cats.” “He’s still my brother.”

“Man, he killed 18 people in 2 days.” Clint looked at him.

“He’s adopted.” Thor shrugged.

“Did you forget the rest of your clothes or…” Steve heard Tony’ quip and turned round to see Katie stood in front of her brother. “I can see what you had for breakfast young lady.”

“Piss off Tony.” she shot back, and he quirked an eyebrow, looking at Sam.

“Rude.” he mumbled.

“I think you look great.” Sam said, “Doesn’t she Steve?”

Steve shot Sam a filthy look before he turned to his best friend, smiling “Stunning, as always.” “Smooth Rogers.” she grinned at him, making a deal of looking him up and down “Looking pretty fly yourself!”

He glanced down at the light blue button down he was wearing underneath a tweed blazer, coupled with dark Diesel Jeans and brown brogue boots before looking at her, grinning cheekily “Well my best friend is also my self-appointed stylist and she knows her stuff, what can I say?”

“You can thank her by buying her a drink.” Katie winked back and Steve laughed, turning to order her a martini.  “Gin…” “Not vodka, yeah I know…” he finished for her as she bumped her hip against his. She curled and arm round his waist and he found his dropping round her shoulder, giving her a friendly squeeze before they released one another.

As always happens at parties, everyone started to drift off to speak to people they knew and take the time to catch up. Katie and Steve remained at the bar and the party was in full swing by the time Katie finished her drink and Steve drained his second beer. She ordered them another round as Steve took a quick look around. The hip, rooftop bar they were in, The Westlight, was located in the William Vale, a 5 star hotel in the heart of the City, and it was crammed with people celebrating. This year the local authorities of New York had decided to indulge Brooklyn security forces and had decided to throw an over the top Christmas party for both 99th and 101st units of NYPD and the Brooklyn section of New York's Fire Department and had hired the entire bar. Katie had joked about getting a room in the hotel simply so she could pretend she was a right high-roller for a night and a day but had soon balked at the fact they were over $300. Mind you, Steve had to give it to them. The views the place offered of the New York Sky Line was something else.

 It almost made up for the obscene prices at the bar. Almost.

With a thanks he took the beer that was slid his way and they resumed their conversation, talk between the pair of them easy as always, and they launched into a discussion about Steve’s new car which he had collected earlier that day.

“So you drove?” Katie looked at him and he shrugged “Dude, it’s the Christmas party…” “Yeah and I can leave it here if I decide to.” Steve shrugged “It’ll be safe enough with the valet...” “Why didn’t you just get a cab?” “Hey, look, I’ve been waiting 12 weeks for that baby.” he said, looking at her “I wanted to drive it.” “You know, your obsession with cars is kinda a little bit sad” she grinned.

“I could say the same thing about you and shoes.” “Hey, at least my obsession fits in a wardrobe…”

“Yeah, they also fit in my hand when I end up carrying them, and you, home from a night out when you can’t walk in them anymore…” he looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes playfully and was about to quip something back when they were interrupted.

"Having fun Kiddo?" Tony asked and Katie turned to her brother as he made a gesture to her with his hand "Just roll with me." he mouthed.

Katie smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. "What's up with you, Tone?" she asked amused, sharing a side glance with Steve who was now also smiling at Tony's awkward face. 

"Shhh, trying to get rid of..." he was about to explain but was interrupted by an overexcited Peter Parker.

"Whooooa, this party is pretty awesome Mr. Stark! Don't you think?" he piped. "I mean, this is... Look at all those people, they are... there are hundreds of them, and the place is just..." he continued babbling while grabbing Tony by his arm and looking all around him.

"Yeah, you're very articulate, aren't you?" Tony deadpanned.

Katie giggled softly "Glad you're having fun Peter." 

Peter, who hadn't noticed that Tony stood beside Katie and Steve by the bar, turned to her and couldn't help but check her out in awe "Oh my God! Katie, I mean, Miss Stark, you look hot!" 

Katie started laughing like crazy after Peter's remark and Steve shook his head at him with a grin.

“Ok Underoos, time to shut up that squealing mouth of yours before I stick a coaster down your throat." Tony said glaring at him, picking up a bar mat from the surface and waving it threateningly in Peter’s direction.

Peter, who was now blushing fiercely, tried to come up with an apology "Oh, I'm sorry Miss Stark, you're not hot…”

Katie was looking at Peter with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression on her face, she had a soft spot for the boy. Tony was now getting annoyed and rolled his eyes "Oh, come on...." 

"Sorry, that's not what I meant, I mean yeah you look hot,... Oh, God... I mean, you look great tonight Miss Stark...." he stuttered and turned to Steve who now gave him a wide smile.

"Peter." he greeted the kid.

"Cap…Captain" he greeted back a mixture of shyness at his boss and embarrassment for the ongoing conversation he was trying to get back on the right track much to Tony's dismay.

“Just Steve outside the station Peter…” Steve smiled at him.

It was then that Sam approached the group, bottle of beer in his hand and moving his head to the beat of the music which was blasting from the speakers all over the club. 

"Is he misbehaving?" he asked Tony, Katie and Steve with a fake serious face."Are you misbehaving, kid?" he turned to Peter now patting him on the back. "You know you get cranky when you don't get your juice box."

"Yeah, kid's on a sugar rush." Tony quipped.

"Ok, let's get you some hot cocoa short stack." Sam offered.

"I'm not a kid Mr Wilson, you know I'm 21..." Peter started rambling again as Sam took him by his arm and both disappeared among the sea of people.

"If you excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to greet some people" Katie said to Tony and Steve as she also started to make her way towards a group of people who were perched on a table by the large windows which looked out over the City.

Steve waved her goodbye "See you, later". And turned to Tony who was now ordering his third tumbler of Scotch and one for Bruce who joined them moments later. Steve found himself trying to pay attention to what the two men were telling him, but although he was nodding and humming in agreement with Tony's bragging and Bruce’s slightly more modest chat, he didn't have a clue to what either man was saying. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off Katie. He had tried but failed spectacularly. He was continuously gazing in her direction where she was now talking to her former friends from the 99th. Peralta, Diaz, Boyle and Jeffers welcomed her immediately, Jeffers standing up to give her a huge hug before he she slid onto the bench seat next to him, joining in the conversation. A few moments later, Boone from the NYFD sauntered over and the table greeted him and he made to sit down and join them, which was quite funny to Steve as he knew from Katie’s tales that Peralta and him had a long history of confrontations.

But what wasn’t funny to Steve was the next man that joined them. Steve hadn't seen him before so he presumed the guy was from the Fire Department, which seemed to be confirmed when he reached over, shaking Boone’s hand before Boone proceeded to gesture around the table. Mystery man then shook everyone’s hand in turn, but when it came to Katie he saw the man’s entire body language change and he kissed the back of her hand before gesturing to the seat next to her. She nodded, smiling and moved up slightly to allow him to sit down.

Steve watched as they struck up a conversation and the sight of the tall, well-built, really quite handsome man leaning over to say something into her ear was enough to send Steve to a place he had never been before, certainly not when it came to his best friend. Was it protectiveness, annoyance at the memory of shitweasel Ward? Was it concern about her safety, after all she didn’t know the guy did she? Was it exasperation at the guy's bold mannerisms as his arm curled round the back of the bench she was sat on, his entire body angled towards her? Was it uneasiness due to the fact that she actually seemed to be pretty comfortable around the guy and looked like she was enjoying the attention? Was it....?

Oh God, it was, wasn't it? It suddenly struck him like lightning.

"Are you Ok, Cap?" he heard Tony ask him. "You're staring blankly at us and clenching you jaw. I mean, I know the gadgets Brucey and I have put together are pretty awesome, but still..."

Steve swallowed thickly before he composed himself. "Excuse me Tony, Bruce…need to find the restroom."

With that he started walking away from the men, heading to the door that led to the outside roof terrace, not looking back. He pushed the door open, the cold December air hitting him like a sledge hammer, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy trying to make sense of the million and one thoughts which were careering through his brain, but no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, it was no use. He knew exactly what that feeling that had swept over him when he’d watched Katie was.

He was jealous.

If he was being perfectly honest, it wasn’t the fact that he was jealous that had him so distressed, it was the realization that all those feelings he had been harbouring for Katie over the last ten years had hit him right between the eyes when he least expected them. 

Steve leaned his arms on the railing of the balcony and ducked his head between them, letting out a oft groan. His mind was wandering back and forth in time, searching a rational explanation for what he was feeling. But what can be explained rationally when it comes to feelings? He closed his eyes and sighed. Feelings developed slowly, didn't they? They didn't just hit you all at once in a bar in Brooklyn just because a pretty girl made one hell of an entrance in a tight sequined number.

He straightened himself and gazed into the beautifully lit skyline of the city, his analytical mind working at full speed, roaming through all those years he had known Katie. Ten years. Ten years they had been friends, best friends even. So close that everyone laughed at the fact that they seemed just like a married couple.

And now that he came to think of it there were those small things that would likely have given him away in the eyes of others all through that time. How he hated Ward for starters, he had never trusted him. How he would look away whenever he kissed her or even hugged her. Katie had teased him about PDAs making him uncomfortable but it wasn’t that. It was because those particular ones did.

He had never been uncomfortable around Katie, in fact he had quite liked all those funny little feelings he got when she laughed or teased him, flirted with him slightly in the way she always did. He smiled remembering how he had flushed whenever she behaved like that with him, it was a warming feeling that had made his cheeks red every now and then that he had simply put down to awkwardness or embarrassment. But it was nothing of the sort, it was just him having feelings for Katie, and those feelings had been there for some time now.

Almost ten years in fact. So, when he thought about it, it had been a pretty slow burn after all.

"Fuck"  he whispered at the realization Sam had hit the nail on the head.

What now? How did he act on those feelings? That is if he should act on them in the first place. What was that Sam had said? Did she have feelings for him too? Did he want to know? Too many questions and the only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't gonna get an answer to any of them out there. He decided to get himself together, go back inside and play it cool. As cool as he could manage that is, considering that the scrawny Brooklyn kid he once was usually liked to make an appearance in situations like this.

He could do this…he could do this… get it together Rogers.

He pushed himself back from the railing and turned round

"Let's see how it goes" he whispered to himself before opening the door that led back to the bar.

He needed a drink was the first thing he thought while he made his way through the people, greeting some colleagues and acquaintances alongside. Yup, some Dutch courage…even if he still had no idea to what purpose.

He found Bruce, Thor and James Rhodes, or Rhodey as they called him, Head of Relations with the Press, by the bar. When he reached the three men, he ordered another beer from the barman gesturing with his hand.

"Gentlemen." Steve greeted them. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Yeah, some more than others." Rhodey pointed with his head to Thor who had now his left arm and head slumped on the bar counter.

Bruce, who was looking at a certain redhead dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor with Wanda, Rosa, Gina and Amy from the 99, turned to see what Rhodey was talking about and asked "Is he sleeping?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he's dead." Rhodey deadpanned.

And with that Thor snored and woke himself up, stumbling on the stool he was half seated. Steve scoffed and swept his eyes around the club searching for Katie only to find her still seated chatting with the fancy fireman. He turned around to face the counter and grab his beer in an attempt to calm himself and steady his hands. He saw Thor's now empty glass there, in an almost reflex action he took one of the ice cubes that still hadn't melt and put it in his mouth, munching it instantly, the crunch satisfying.

Bruce looked at him at the sound of his teeth and jaws grinding ice and with a raised eyebrow asked "What's with you and ice?"

"Childhood trauma." he said sharply.

"Yeah, I get it. I still have issues with green veggies." Bruce said shyly. "They still make me angry." 

"You seem quite a calm guy" Steve said now smiling at Bruce.

"No, that's my secret Cap, I'm always angry." Bruce retorted.

They suddenly heard a loud thud and looked down finding Thor, who had slipped from the stool, sprawled on the floor. 

"Now, he's dead." Rhodey said laughing while Steve, Bruce and Sam, who had come to the rescue, helped the big man up. 

"I'm good. I'm good." Thor said and started dancing to the music and singing loudly, and out of tune, to the song that was playing while giving a thumbs up to the DJ in the cabin.

"What's that awful noise?" Tony who had now joined the small group asked.

"Blondie here, murdering song after song." Rodney replied.

"Thor! Thor!" Tony called. "Thor, for fuck sake, will you please stop squealing? You think you're a full tilt diva but your voice is hitting on my head like a hammer!"

Thor stopped singing but continued moving his arms and head and stomping his feet to the rhythm of the music. Steve laughed softly at the clumsy ways of such a big man and when he looked up he smiled at the vision of Clint approaching them the team ladies in tow. 

"Heads up, everybody" Clint yelled impersonating some kind of MC, "Let's have a toast for the 101st."

"Sure thing" Tony said gesturing to the barman and ordering a drink for everybody to toast.

Steve tensed up when he felt Katie by his side, her arm brushing against the fabric of his shirt. 

"Having fun, Cap?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Not as much as you." he replied face-palming himself internally at his own reply. 

He saw Katie look at him with a frown and her mouth wide open. She was about to ask him something, probably what had come over him, but she couldn't as at that very moment Tony came back with a tray full of champagne flutes for everyone.

"Ok, raise your glasses everyone and let's hear it for the Brooklyn 101" Clint yelled.

"For the Brooklyn 101" everybody yell back clinking glasses and sipping from them. 

They all turned at the loud sound of a glass breaking and saw Thor grinning as he looked at the shards on the floor, before he glanced up and with a huge bellow shouted "Another!"

The staff of the club, however, weren't that willing to laugh at Thor's shenanigans as they came to gather the broken glass to avoid someone being badly cut. Clint, Sam and Rhodey took Thor outside to breath some fresh air. Natasha dragged Wanda and Bruce back to the dance floor. And Tony went to the restroom or as he put it, to take a leak.

Now that they were alone Katie pulled on Steve's hand and headed for a more secluded table at the far end of the club. He let her tug him along and settled onto the bench besides her.

"Ok, what was that about?" she shot at him.

"What was what?"  Steve asked trying to avoid giving her a straight answer, allowing him a moment to think about how he was going to play his cards. Was he going to play them? His mind was in turmoil. He felt a bit dizzy, he had had too many beers, he knew. Luckily, that nutrition programme he took part in during college had gifted him some sort of increased metabolism which prevented him from getting overly drunk, well, Thor scale of drunk anyway, that was unless he hit the hard stuff.

"You know what I mean Steve, don't play dumb with me." Katie was raising her voice now.

"I only said you seemed to be enjoying the company." Steve shrugged trying to appear relaxed.

"Of course I was! It's been a while since I'd been able to catch up with the boys." she said. "I was having a great time watching Peralta and Boone roast each other." She laughed. "See what I did there." She winked. 

Steve merely raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh! Wait.." Katie smiled amused. "You're talking about.... Yes, you are, aren't you?"

Steve didn't answer, he continued looking at her, not sure if he wanted to know more about the mystery fancy fireman.

"He's a friend Steve, well sort of, we hadn't actually met before tonight." Katie said softly like she was talking to an angry child.

Steve frowned, not understanding how one can be friends with someone and have never actually met.

"His brother in law is friends with Tony, freak scientists stuff..." Katie explained now. "You must have heard about him, Reed.... Reed Richards?"

Steve stared blankly at her, trying to match a face with that name in his mind.

“He developed a lot of the forensics awareness training new officers do.” she said.

“Ah, yeah…vaguely…” Steve nodded, the image of a tall, dark haired man crossed his mind.

"Johnny is a fireman, he works under Boone’s chain." Katie continued while stirring her drink with the straw. "He seems nice, we've only been chatting..." she suddenly stopped and looked up at Steve. "Hang on! Why am I explaining myself to you anyway?" she asked squinting her eyes at Steve.

Steve hesitated for a few seconds and was about to provide her with a feasible answer that would soothe her when he felt someone slap him on his back.

"Hey, Cap" Tony squealed and turned to face his sister.

"Been talking to Fury, kiddo. The Pirate says you're considering DC after all." he said looking at Katie trying to keep his legs steady and leaning on her shoulder. "Warn a brother next time, will you? You made me look like a fool." he slurred and turned to the dance floor trying to focus his sight.

"Hey, Bruce, good moves..." he said now leaving the friends sat there, walking off to join his team mates on the dancefloor, moving his arms suggestively over his head.

"What was that?" Steve snapped. "About DC? You've made your mind up?"

"I'd be stupid not to go. But hey, nothing's set up in stone. I'm just considering it" she answered trying to lighten up the mood.

"I didn't think you'd be serious about the role." Steve demeanour was getting bleaker.

"Why?" Katie asked frowning at him. "Of course, I'm serious, Steve. You told me there's no Sergeant vacancy in the unit, not as a Detective and I don't wanna go back to uniform."

"I know. It's just I didn't think they would actually offer it to you." he said now trying to sound as convincing as possible.

He wasn't prepared to let her go. To let her leave him. Not now. What if? What if history repeats? Peggy left him for the chance of pursuing higher ranks at the force. She had broken him and now he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with Katie leaving him as well. He had known Katie way more years than he had known Peggy after all.

"You didn’t think they’d offer it to me? Why’s that, Steve?" Katie was getting visibly annoyed now. "Because I'm not good enough?"

"No! That's not what I meant!" Steve couldn't help but yell back.

"That’s the second time you spoken to me out of turn tonight" she said, her nostrils flaring. "I'm done."

Katie stood up and pushed between him and the table, grabbing her purse and stalking over the room heading for the door.  

Steve fumbled a bit and watched her go away. "Shit" he yelled behind gritted teeth. Slamming his beer back onto the table he jumped up and started to walk towards the door, needing to catch her before it was too late. 

On his way across the dance floor, well a straight line is always the fastest way to your target, he heard Tony say "Uh-oh, Kiddo rant scale currently at 7..." while Natasha turned to Clint and deadpanned "They need to bone and get it out of their system."

Just what he needed to hear now. Damned his better than normal hearing. Steve emerged into the entrance hall of the bar floor but there was no trace of Katie. He looked up and saw the light of the elevator signalling it was going down. With no time to spare he opened the door that lead to the stairs and rushed down two steps at a time.

When he reached the ground floor he was panting as he burst through the door into the lobby of the hotel and stopped in his tracks as he spotted Katie putting on her coat by the reception desk. Thank God, her stop at the cloakroom had provided him with a few precious minutes.

He walked to the reception trying to make up his mind on what to say. When he caught up with her, he heard her ask for a cab to the receptionist.

"Cancel that." he said to the receptionist.

"Don't you dare." she looked at the receptionist.

"Cancel it!" he said again, his voice this time stern.

“Grrr!” with an angry growl she turned and glared at him "Fuck off, Steve." she snarled and started to walk to the main door "You're an asshole." she said before stepping out and slamming the door, not caring if she nearly clipped Steve's face.

Steve followed her and grabbed her arm. "Come here." he said taking her away from the brightly lit area by the main entrance to the hotel to a more intimate spot a bit further along that was slightly dimmer.

Katie flinched slightly at the strength of his grip and Steve noticed and let her loose. "I'm sorry." he said raising his palms. "I'm sorry, doll" he said again. "Just talk to me, right?"

"Why don't you support me? I thought of all the people you'd be the most thrilled about me having this opportunity, Steve." she said wrapping her coat around her chest, a hurt look in her eyes.

"Of course, I support you." Steve said quietly. "You're an amazing Detective. It's not that..." he hesitated, not knowing how to carry on.

"Then, what is it? Explain it to me because you've been acting weird all night" she said her green eyes pleading him.

He was well damned fucked. Point of no return.

"When I told you about that opportunity last month, you were all for it so I applied, so what changed?" she continued trying to make her point seeing as he wasn't saying anything.

Steve closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again.

"You" he simply said.

"Me? I've changed?" Katie asked not understanding what he was trying to say.

"No. Not you..." he paused before continuing. "God, this is messy..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "The way I see you." he finally said looking directly into those beautiful green eyes. “That’s changed.”

"Oh" Katie managed to mutter. She was suddenly silent, searching into his blue eyes. After a moment, which seemed an eternity to Steve, she stepped forward and whispered.

"Say it." 

"Say what?" Steve asked still looking into her eyes.

"Use your words, Stevie. Tell me what you mean." she softly encouraged him.

Oh God, that damned pet name…

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, licking his lips nervously.

"You just did, but I'll give you another go." she smiled.

He rolled his eyes but smiled back at her before saying "Sam told me before... that you have..." he paused. 

"That I have what?" she asked.

"That you have feelings for me." he finished.

"Oh" she simply said, her eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lower lip. "Did he? Are those gonna be his last words?" she said with a shy smile not losing contact with his eyes.

"Is it true?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his words, bolstered by the fact she hadn’t denied it. "Do you feel it too? I mean, when we're hanging around, when we spend time together? Because it feels more to me, like we’re more than just friends…"

"I feel it when you're not around, Stevie." she said gently, cutting him off. Her eyes still locked onto his.

Steve breath hitched at her admission, a shy smile spread across his face.

"Steve, I..." she started to say but fell into silence, her face was now really flushed and so was her neck, in the way it always did when she was feeling slightly awkward or embarrassed or excited.

"Use your words, doll." he said softly, smiling at her. His attempt to ease the tension worked and she giggled and looked down, tucking her hair behind both her ears before she glanced back up at him, desire now sparkling in her eyes.

"Steve, I've liked you since the day we met. I think you're the most amazing person in the world. You're gorgeous inside and out..." she breathed deeply before continuing "After everything, well you make me feel safe like.... like I'm home…I just never thought in a million years that a guy like you would ever look at me like that.”

Now it was Steve who fell deadly silent. He pondered Katie's words for a moment and gave her a shy side smile. “You have no idea how beautiful you are do you?”

She gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she looked down muttering the word “Charmer.” as he reached out and gently tipped her head up so she was looking at him. His eyes bounced across both of hers for a second or so before he gently tilted her face up, angling her head. The distance between them closed…until she was knocked sideways, stumbling a little. He caught her and turned to glare at the culprit.

“Heyyyy!” Boyle smiled, swinging his arms out to the side “Didn’t see you there…” “He’s drunk…” Peralta apologised, “And so am I…we’re gonna get food…” Katie nodded at them both and with the hand that was curled around her waist, Steve gently squeezed her hip.

“NINE NINE!” Peralta yelled, punching the air as he left, Boyle whooping and repeating the chant as he tripped slightly before they rounded the corner. As they disappeared from sight Steve bent over and softly spoke into her ear.

“Shall I take you home, Doll?”

“Thought you were never gonna ask…” she said, not looking at him. He squeezed her hip again and together they strode back towards the valet, reaching into his wallet for the ticket, neither of them saying a word.

As soon as she was in the car she kicked off her shoes and let out a groan. “My feet are killing me…” she said, placing her feet up in front of her. She looked around the inside of the car, not actually having been inside it yet seeing as he had only picked it up that afternoon and gave a hum of appreciation.

“It’s nice…not as sexy as your mustang but I like it.” she said.

“Sweetheart, I haven’t had that mustang in years” he chuckled.

“Yeah I know.” she sighed “I liked that car, I still can’t believe you got rid of it.”

“Thought it was time I grew up a little…” he shrugged, looking at her.

“You’ll be driving around in a Prius soon, like Brian off Family Guy…” “Piss off…” he laughed as she let out a chuckle, flexing her dainty painted toes as they rest on the leather of the dash.

“Where did you this one from again?”

“It was imported from Germany, now get your feet off the dash.” She looked at him, a coy smirk on her face and moved her long legs one by one, placing her feet in the foot well. How the fuck she made such a simple movement as much of a turn on as she did, he had no idea. Had she always been such a teasing minx?

The rest of the car drive was spent in a comfortable silence. Well, as comfortable as it can be with a semi-lob on. His fingers were impatiently tapping on the arm rest between them and Katie reached out and pulled his hand onto her lap, gently running her finger tips over his knuckles as his palm lay against the bare, warm skin of her thigh. His jeans began to feel even tighter and it was all he could do to stop his hand wandering further up her skirt as he drove. Every so often she’d shoot him a knowing look, her eyes sparkling, and he’d simply grin back, or try and ignore her, keeping his eyes on the road.

Thankfully her place was nearer than his so he found a spare space outside her block and climbed out, opening the passenger side for her.

“Thanks.” she said, her voice quiet but oh so loaded and fuck, it made his trouser predicament even worse. He walked behind her, up the few steps into her building where she unlocked the door and dropped her keys into her pocket. His arm once more around her waist, they waited impatiently for the elevator.

No sooner had the elevator doors shut than Steve's final tendril of self-control snapped and he spun, pushing Katie back by her shoulders. She let out a soft squeak of surprise as his hand slid up to the back of her head, fingers winding into her hair, holding her face steady. There was a split second where she gazed up at him, her eyes bright with a lust he had never seen before, and then she bit her bottom lip and he was done for. Their lips met and God it was everything he had imagined it to be, and more. His lips massaged against hers, softly at first but then he felt her hands sliding up round his neck as she pulled him to her harder, and Steve couldn't help the soft groan that left his mouth. He felt her lips curve into a smirk and he took the chance, tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. Obligingly she gave him what he wanted, and depend the kiss even more, her mouth opening to grant him access. She tasted slightly sweet, the remnants of her last drink invaded his senses as his tongue fought hers for dominance and holy fucking shit he didn’t ever think he'd ever been kissed like this before in his life.

Pressing into her more he moved his hands to gently grab at her hips, hands dropping to her ass where he hauled her up, pressing her back into the elevator wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed up against her, hands gently creeping up the hem of her dress, fingers softly caressing the outside of her thighs and his lips moved from hers to the pulse point of her neck and she gave a soft, sultry sigh. Steve knew he was an absolute gonner and he couldn’t help but react to her noises and movements by pushing against her and the noise she made as his denim clad crotch rubbed up against the fabric of her underwear was fucking sinful. His cock twitched and somewhere in his brain his logical mind desperately fought for a shard of restraint because they were still in fucking elevator after all... But it was her that stopped, quite suddenly too. Steve felt her tap him lightly on his shoulder and he moved from where he had been softly nipping at her neck to look at her, questioningly, wondering if she was having second thoughts. She bit her lip and nodded behind him which made him turn, and he saw the elevator door had opened and a small, blonde woman was looking at the pair of them, eyebrow raised, mouth dropped in slightly shock. "Shit." Steve mumbled as Katie gave a very un-ladylike snort as he set her on her feet. He bent down to retrieve her purse for her as she straightened out her dress. She took the purse in one hand and reached for his with her other, lacing her fingers between his. As they passed she nodded to the woman and said her name, but all too late Steve realised he hadn't heard it as his brain was still trying to catch up. Not wanting to be rude he nodded to the woman "Neighbour..." "Have a good evening..." she replied, not even bothering to hide the smirk from her face. "Did you seriously just say neighbour?" Katie snorted as she crossed the hall towards her door. "Well I don't know her name..." he said as she turned to face him.

"What?" She blinked, shaking her head. "Sharon! I literally said it like 3 seconds ago!" "And you think I was listening?" He said, arching an eyebrow as he placed both hands on the door, palms flat at either side of her head, caging her with his strong arms. His face was inches from hers again and she grinned "You gonna give me a chance to find my keys or just kick my door in?" With an arch of his eyebrow his left hand slid into the right pocket of her coat, and he pulled them out, hanging them in front of her face. Not taking her eyes off his she reached out to take them, before turning around to slip the key in the lock. Steve gently swept her hair off her neck and trailed hot kisses up towards her ear. With a sigh she rolled her head to the side as his mouth grazed a path to her jaw line before he placed a soft kiss at the side of her mouth.

“Open the door sweetheart” he said, his voice low and she jerked back into action, turning the key. Steve leaned over, pushing the door open and she stepped inside, Steve following. The door opened into the hallway which was dimly lit by a lamp on the table to the side of the door. Katie tossed her keys onto it, along with her purse as Steve clicked the door shut, leaning back on it as he watched her turn to him, eyes heavy as she looked up at him. There was a moment’s pause before he stepped forwards, hands creeping up to cradle her face as he gently pressed his lips to hers, the kiss a stark contrast to the urgent ones they’d shared moments before. Soft, sensual, his large hands caressing the side of her cheeks and neck as she leaned up into him eagerly. The kiss broke and he ran his nose against hers, pulling back slightly.

“You sure?” he said, his voice a whisper, needing to know she still wanted to go through with this, cross that final line. Without a word she turned, tugging on his hand, leading him to the right down the hall towards her room. As the reached the doorway he pulled her back towards him, spinning her round making her giggle as she fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he bent to kiss her again, the pair of them blindly stumbling into the room, which is when Steve felt a searing pain in his shin as it collided pain fully with the wooden doorframe.

“Mother fucker…” he cursed, releasing Katie as he bent to rub at his shin, hopping on one leg into the room as Katie laughed whilst a plethora of curses that would make a sailor blush tumbled from his lips.

“Awww want me to kiss it better?” she teased as she undid her coat and tossed it over the back of the chair that sat in front of her vanity unit.

“Oh, you’re gonna kiss summink…” he snarked back as he kicked the door to the room shut, smirking at the look on her face as she arched an eyebrow.

“Very presumptuous of you Captain.” she teased.

“Think we’re a bit past the presuming stage don’t you?” he said, closing the distance between them again, on arm snaking round her waist as he pulled her back to him. Her hands ran up his chest to the lapels on his jacket as she pushed it back off his shoulders and Steve moved his arms allowing it to fall to the floor. Next she was working at his shirt, tugging the bottom of it out of his jeans as his mouth claimed hers again, hungrily. He felt the soft brush of her fingers as she worked the buttons undone, pushing it open and her warm hands slid over the planes of his stomach, travelling slightly downward towards the buckle of his jeans.

“ah ah…” he said, breaking the kiss and grabbing at her hands. “Your turn…”

“But I’m only wearing one thing…” she pouted, looking up at him. “You’re like…”

“You have an argument for everything…” he said, his hands sliding up the back of her dress, feeling for the zip.

“Do not.” she shot back and he sighed in exasperation.

“Argumentative brat, as always…look, does this thing even have a zip?”

She laughed, “No…”

He reached down to grab the hem, her breath catching slightly as his fingers brushed against her thighs but he didn’t argue as she held her arms up to allow him to pull the dress over her head. Steve gently reached out to brush her tousled, long waves back off her face before he glanced down, swallowing at the sight of her stood before him in heels and a matching black lace lingerie set.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, his hands reaching down to her hips, pulling her back flush to his body, kissing her again. This time when her hands fell to his belt buckle and undid it he didn’t object. He kicked off his boots as she worked his jeans open, her fingers grazing the skin just below his waist band and he bucked at her touch.

“So sensitive for such a big, tough guy…” she teased into his kiss and he gave a chuckle.

“You know I’m a big softie really…” he said

“Nothing soft about this…” she remarked, her hand reaching into her boxers and grasping his painfully hard cock, causing him to buck violently in response.

“Jesus Doll, give a guy some warning…” he stuttered out between his grit teeth.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she shot back.

Unable to take it anymore he moved, stepping out of his jeans and backed her to the bed, hands reaching round to unhook the clasp of her bra. As it fell away he gave another moan at her now bare chest in front to him, perfect pink skin on display.

“God you’re beautiful.” he said, eyes locking onto hers.

“Bet you say that to all the girls…” she teased back.

He snorted “They’re not exactly lining up sweetheart.” “More fool them…” she said, leaning up to kiss him again, her hands snaking round his neck. They both fell back onto the bed with a soft thud, and he moved her gently so she was led under him. She pulled away pushing on his shoulders and looked up at him as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Socks.” “What?” he frowned.

“Take them off.”

“Katie, I-” “Steven, I’m not having sex with a guy who leaves his socks on.” Katie said, shaking her head “That’s just fucking weird.”

“You’re killing me doll, you know that?” he groaned. He sat up, shaking his head and pulled the offending garments off before he crawled back over the top of her. “Ok now?” “Yeah…” she nodded, grinning.

With a roll of his eyes he dropped his lips back to hers and kissed her again, hands gently tangling in her hair as he held her face still, lips moving from her lips to her jaw line to that spot on the neck he had noticed she’d appreciated him lavishing affection on before. She gave a soft moan, and her hips bucked upwards slightly, drawing a soft growl from his throat at the feeling as she pushed against him. His mouth moved downwards, lips and tongue circling the swell of her breast before he gently took a nipple into his mouth, listening to her soft keens as he teased her, his other hand sliding down over the curve of her hip, fingers brushing the skin just above her panty line. Without a word he slipped his fingers down, over her mound and she groaned again, arching her back.

“Fuck…” she mumbled, “Steve…”

He didn’t waste any time. His deft fingers began to play, coaxing more and more wetness from her as he went. He glanced up to see her head was thrown back against her pillow, eyes shut in utter bliss as she bit her lip.

“Look at me…” he said softly, moving so that his face was hovering over hers again, fingers still working. She opened those emeralds he felt he could drown in and her pupils were blown with desire. His fingers picked up their pace and he slid one, then two inside her, curling against her spot over and over again. He watched as her jaw slackened as her back arched and she let out a low keen.

“Stevie…” she panted “I..”  her words trailed into a low gasp which turned into a groan as her back arched, her eyes fluttered shut and she convulsed underneath him, and he felt her tighten around him. Eventually she relaxed and her breathing evened out slightly and she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face before her hand slid up into his hair, bringing his face down so she could kiss him again.

Then it was a fast scramble to get both of them out of the last remaining, thin barriers of clothing before Steve nestled into the v of her legs, mouth nipping at her collar bone.

“Need you…” she purred into his hear and fuck, did he need her too.

“Need a…” he said, pulling back, fully intending to retrieve that little foil packet he always kept in his wallet, not that it ever saw the light of day mind, but she stopped him and shook her head.

“I’m ok, covered…that’s if…” “Yeah, I’m good…” he nodded, settling back over her. Her hand reached down between them, and she gently guided him towards where she wanted and as he looked up at her, a bit too quickly, his forehead collided with hers.

“Ow!” she spluttered out a giggle and he gave a groan. How was it that she’d managed to reduce him right back to that dumbass little kid from Brooklyn.

“Sorry…” he muttered, but she simply laughed again and pressed her lips to his.

“Don’t keep me waiting…” she said softly.

And Steve, never one for refusing to help a lady out, was happy to oblige. He worked into her with a steady, gently movement which made him shudder, dropping to his elbows over her as she gave a soft moan.

“Ok?” “Yeah…I’m good…” she said as he began to move, his thrusts slow and gently at first, hips rocking against hers. His lips met hers again in a sloppy kiss as she raked her hands down his back, nails digging into the skin, the bite of pain was like a hot wire to his groin and he gave a groan, picking up the pace slightly, her body moving with him with each thrust, skin sliding against skin, the soft sounds of sex and groans and whimpers filled the air and half the time Steve couldn’t tell whether it was her or him.

“More…” she begged softly, and he hooked his hand under her knee, wrapping her leg up round his waist allowing him to drive deeper and she gave a loud mewl underneath him as her nails dug into his shoulders as he moved faster, reading the signs she was giving him, his hips snapping back and forth with a needy desire, the carnal want he had for this woman consumed him and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Come on baby…” he said, his breath ragged on her ear as he gently sucked at that spot again, feeling her writhing underneath him. “I got you, let go…”

His breath caught slightly as she tipped her head to press her lips to his, the kiss heated and he swallowed the loud groan she made before her head fell back her hands gripping to his back as if her life depended on it.

“Stevie…I’m…gonna…” she managed to stutter before her mouth once more slackened and her sultry lament made Steve shudder as her body spasmed underneath him, her leg twitching as he gripped it tight round his waist. Her tight heat gripped him, tightening again and again and he felt the burning deep in the pit of his stomach, the surge of his own orgasm felt like it was rising from his very toes as he drove into her once more.

“Fuck, Doll…” he mumbled, before a guttural rumble erupted from his throat as his hips stuttered slightly before he made another few shallow thrusts until he collapsed forward, burying his head in her neck as the afterglow consumed him.

He had no idea how long passed before he managed to muster enough about himself to raise his head. She still had her eyes closed but there was a satisfied smile playing on her lips, one he couldn’t help but mirror. As he watched her face, the tip of his nose gently resting against hers, her eyelids flickered open and he smiled down at her, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“Ok?”

“Yeah…” her voice was raspy and she swallowed “That was more than ok…” He chuckled as he met her lips in a soft kiss, before he gently rolled off her, laying on his back and reaching down for the duvet which was tangled around their legs. After a short wrestle with it and a bit more giggling they both settled down, Katie’s head on his chest as he lay on his back, his hand softly carding through her hair…

Steve blinked, the sun creeping into his hotel room through the crack in the blinds was warm on his face as he roused into consciousness. Despite knowing he’d simply been lost in a memory he glanced to the side and found the bed cold and empty…just like she had done the morning after that night.

He rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. Two more rounds they’d gone after that. Once when she’d risen to get a drink, bringing back half a small bottle of water which he’d gratefully drained before she’d taken the empty off him, tossed it to the floor and then kissed him with all the ferocity of a woman in need, a need he’d been happy to once again satisfy. And then again when he’d nipped to the bathroom and climbed back in besides her, pulling her into him, her face gently pressing to his chest. She’d nuzzled her nose up along his sternum to his neck, then across his jawline where her teeth gently skated at his beard. He’d been rock solid again in seconds and as she’d pushed him onto his back, gently straddling him and lowering himself down he remembered thinking it would never get better than it was right then and there…

Steve gave a groan as his head pushed back onto the pale blue pillows of his hotel bed. He was rock solid now as well, the memories consuming him totally. It had been the best night of his life, and then he’d gone and ruined it all…

It was still dark when he woke, Katie’s soft body pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around her from behind, nose buried into her soft hair. Blinking he recovered his senses, shifting slightly as he felt her move a little. She settled almost immediately and he swallowed thickly.

Oh shit, what had he done?

He’d never thought confessing his feelings would get this far! No, actually, he hadn’t thought at all. He should have just ignored it like he had been doing for 10 fucking years. He was her boss…this was bad, really bad. Whilst there were no rules, per-se about relationships between colleagues, hell half the force was married to one another if you thought about it, but getting involved with someone in your command chain was a big no-no.

The more he lay there, the worse it got. If they carried on seeing one another, someone was going to have to move out of the department, and he knew that realistically would be her as it was easier to move a detective than a captain.

And then when you threw the DC opportunity she’d been offered into the mix…if she went, what then? It would end just like it had with Peggy. She’d find someone else, someone there…

No, this was Katie…she was different. He’d talk to her, yeah, that was it. They’d always been honest with one another, so as soon as she woke up he’d talk to her, explain that he did care about her, did want to be with her but they needed to think about how they worked it and … fuck, who was he kidding? This was a mess, a huge mess.

He had to go, had to get out. This was too much to process.

Gently he untangled himself from around her and ran his hands over his face, before he moved as quietly as he could around the bedroom, gathering his discarded clothes. He dressed quickly and efficiently before, with one last glance over his shoulder at her as she lay in the bed still sound asleep, he left.

Steve felt like crying. He should have stayed, should have talked, told her his concerns. Bucky was right, they probably could have worked things out, even with her going to DC. Katie wasn’t Peggy after all. But no, instead he’d done the one thing he swore he would never do, hurt her. He’d left her before she woke, and then ghosted her for days, been cruel and effectively made her think that he’d only been after one thing.

And now, the damage was done. He’d lost his best friend and he only had himself to blame. With a loud, angry curse he swung his legs off the bed was making his way to the shower when there was a knock on his door. He padded over the carpet, glanced through the spy hole and seeing who it was, turned and hurriedly grabbed the pair of sweats that were tossed over the chair in the corner. Pulling them on he swung the door open and Bucky sauntered into the room behind him, paper bag in his hand.

“Morning.” he said, as Steve turned to face him. The Captain still looked half asleep, even if he was, erm, standing to attention, so to speak.

“Good dream was it?” Bucky said, nodding to Steve’s crotch and the Captain glanced down and gave a low groan. He’d hoped that the sweatpants he had pulled on would hide that particular predicament. Clearly not

“Did you want something?” “Wasn’t sure what time we agreed to leave.” Bucky said, offering Steve the paper back. “And I was on my way past back to my room so thought I’d check in…”

“You know breakfast is included in the room rate.” Steve said, declining the offer with a shake of his head “No need to go fruit foraging.” “I like plums what can I say.” Bucky shrugged.

“And to answer your question we’ll leave in half an hour, so if you don’t mind I need to shower and sort myself out…” “You can say that again…” Bucky sniggered, nodding again towards Steve’s trousers. Steve rolled his eyes and headed towards the bathroom. “Oh, Steve…”

The Captain stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Just so you know, water is not a good lubricant. Now shower gel on the other hand is, as long as it ain’t that mint tingly shit.”

Steve blinked, and shook his head “What the fuck, man? “Hey I’m just stating facts” Bucky said. “I got that stuff on my balls once…not good. Felt like someone had dunked them in chilli powder. Was burning for hours.”

Steve groaned and looked at the ceiling, shaking his head as he turned and walked through the door leading to the bathroom, slamming it behind him.

“Backed up…” Bucky snorted, as he left the room, grinning to himself as he ate his plum.

@the-omni-princess  @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld  @cobalt-gear  @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13  @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie  @navispalace @patzammit  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog  @djeniiscorner​  @ayamenimthiriel​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​  @disneylovingal​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​  @southerngracela​ @goldenfightergir​ @kellymat​ @official-and-unstable-satan​

#csi rogers and barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #natasha romanoff #thor odinson #bruce banner #james rhodes #peter parker #sam wilson #avengers fanfiction #avengers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #smut #yup

[bleakcreek]

If it’s almost the end of the year, and we think i can safely say that this has been an AMAZING year for fic in the rhink fandom! there have been so many incredible new authors, on top of authors that have been around for years who are still writing about our boys, and i wanted to give a little bit of recognition to some of my personal favorite fics written in 2019!

i am not in any way implying these are “the best” fics, just the ones that i’ve personally enjoyed. i’m mostly sticking to either completed mutli-chapter fics or longer one-shots, and i’m limiting myself to no more than one fic per author so i spread the love.

without further ado, my (personal) top rhink fics of 2019. (behind a cut, because this post is very long.)

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If You’re Wondering If I Want You To by @ssodangdark Rating: Teen Chapters: 5 Words: 10,234

Summary: “The year is 2006 — you just crafted the perfect away message, The Fray is playing on your clock radio, and you're trying to figure out what band t-shirt to wear to school today. Meanwhile, two teenage boys meet for the first time and navigate their feelings for one another through the songs on one of their iPods.”

this fic is everything you could want in a high school au. it’s sweet, and full of pining, and comes with it’s own built-in soundtrack. i can’t recommend this fic enough. this fic is so sweet, you might get a cavity reading it.

Honorable Mentions: most of em’s other fics are oneshots, so i wanted to feature a longer fic, but i also have to acknowledge her oneshots too! Three’s a Crowd (rhett/link/jessie) and Chris Springs are two of my favorite fics and i would highly recommend reading them.

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Don’t Hold Back by @likeaswitchinheat Rating: Explicit Chapters: 26 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has a lot of responsibilities resting on his gorgeous shoulders. It’s Rhett’s job to unburden him of all that. When Link is Rhett’s, he doesn’t have to think about a thing. Rhett will take care of him.”

laika is another ridiculously prolific author, and i’m actually ashamed that it took me until a few weeks ago to read this fic even though it’s been finished for months. this fic is basically half shameless filth and half feelings and angst, which is pretty much exactly what i look for in a fic. 

Honorable Mentions: i absolutely love all of laika’s oneshots, of which there are far too many to name, but i’ll put myself on blast for my particular tastes by giving special mention to Man Bites Dog and Selfie. 

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Candids by @captainsourwolf Rating: Explicit Chapters: 8 Words: 19,635

Summary: “Rhett is a photographer fresh out of SCAD. He lands his first gig soon after graduation, just a simple print ad for a high school advertising their new senior class wear. At the shoot he meets in-demand fashion model Link Neal. It's tense from the start. Rhett ends up being his photographer on most of his shoots, and at every single one Rhett starts a collection of candid shots that he keeps for himself, in a box of trinkets he finds comforting.”

i absolutely loved this fic. i loved the premise, and the slowburn and build up, and the tender longing between rhett and link in this fic. i’m such a slut for pining, which is why this ultimately won out over a couple of elizabeth’s other fics, which are also very good. 

Honorable Mentions: a very close second for this my favorite fic of elizabeth’s was None Like This, but i ultimately had to give it to Candids because i’m a sucker for that softness. Aftercare and hump a little also deserve to be mentioned, too, if you’re looking for oneshots. 

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Rhinestone Cowboy by @soho-x Rating: Explicit Chapters: 15 Words: 26,439

Summary: “If he was honest with himself, he could admit the glamour of being on tour for one of Country Music’s biggest acts had clouded his better judgement. He’d quickly dismissed all apprehensions regarding living in a conversion van for three months, instead focusing on the idea of working a stage during a live show, standing in the wings while country maverick Roy Walker played to crowds bigger than the population of the town Rhett grew up in. It was a dream come true for a small town boy like him.”

this fic hooked me right from the first chapter! i was absolutely in love with the premise of rhett and link as country music stars, and this fic did not disappoint. if you like tender slowburn and pining, you’ll absolutely love this fic. it killed me in the sweetest possible way.

Honorable Mentions: for how recently em jointed the fandom, she’s written a ton of fic! Stolen Moments, No Good Very Bad, #Dormlife, and Only For Your Very Space (unfinished) are some of my other favorites from her.

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Apartment 69 by @apparentlynotreallyfinnish Rating: Explicit Chapters: 18 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has it all figured out. He has a plan for his life. He has a nice girlfriend and a nice job and a nice routine. It really doesn't mean anything that sometimes he gets off on watching men fuck each other. He's just curious. But when a famous gay porn star moves next door to him, his perfect plans start to fall apart.”

appa is one of the most prolific writers in the fandom, so it was really hard to narrow it down to just one fic from her. i actually almost put another fic of hers on here instead, but apartment 69 was the first fic of hers that i read, so i felt like i had to give it the edge over incognito if only for that.

this fic had me on the edge of my seat with every update, and it should be a testament to how much i loved this fic that i was genuinely shocked by how long it was, because i could have sworn it was less than 10 chapters. that’s how quickly i tore through it all.

Honorable Mentions: while i didn’t officially include them, i also want to mention her fics Incognito, I Only Want You to See Me (unfinished), NSFW, Wingman, and Let Me Be Your Light, as well as her entire library of oneshots. she is INCREDIBLY prolific so you can easily spend weeks going through her ao3 page and never run out of things to read.

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remember that time in college I found your handcuffs? by @egocentrifuge Rating: Explicit Chapters: 3 Words: 10,435

Summary: “Rhett feels antsy, wants to leave this entire conversation about the fetish gear he found in their dorm behind, but he still wants to know despite his better judgement.

“Okay, the - dom? takes control of a scene. Why wouldn’t the dom just do whatever he wants?”

“Because it’s all about trust, man.” Link’s face is open and sincere in that way he only gets when he believes in something; Rhett can’t look away. “The sub trusts the dom to make it good for them, and so the dom does their best to. It can be a lot of pressure, but it’s - good, too, being able to make someone feel safe and taken care of, you know? For someone to be willing to be that vulnerable…”

Something in the way Link says it trickles warmly down Rhett’s spine, and he puts his beer down.

“Alright,” he says firmly. “Fine. I don’t understand it completely but that’s - that’s fine. As long as you’re both happy or whatever.” There are more questions Rhett wants to ask, but it’s - too much, for some reason. Not just knowing weird kinky details of Link’s sex life, but the way he’s talking about it.

It's twenty years before they discuss it again.”

eggsy has the market cornered on a very particular genre i like to call “porn that makes you cry.” this fic mostly gets the spot because a lot of eggsy’s other fics are much shorter and/or not on ao3, and for purposes of a fic rec, i really wanted to give something long enough to really sink your teeth into, but i an assure you that every single one of their fics should and would be on here if i didn’t limit myself to one fic per author.

eggsy packs an incredibly amount of feeling into a small amount of words, and strikes a perfect balance between hot, angsty, and loving. i cannot recommend eggsy’s work enough.

Honorable Mentions: what of eggsy’s fics isn’t an honorable mention? Reciprocation, You Know What They Say, Men Who Dress Like They Do in California, Reprobates, Unbuttoned, and literally everything on their tumblr (which has a lot of stuff that isn’t on their ao3).

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The Murmur of Yearning by @its-mike-kapufty Rating: Explicit Chapters: 35 Words: 108,811

Summary: “When burnt-out professor Link Neal is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that whisks him to the farthest reaches of the world, he isn't as ready as he thought he would be for the biting cold or the overwhelming darkness of Antarctica. Though at least he'd been given fair warning of those hazards.

The same couldn't be said of his new boss and research partner.”

mike has so many amazing fics that it by all rights should have been impossible to narrow it down to my one favorite, but honestly, this was a surprisingly easy choice. in spite of how much i love every single fic of mike’s, this one was so beautifully written and poignant, and i don’t think any other fic has ever made me cry the way this fic did. it hurts — in the best possible way.

i started reading this fic one evening after work, and was so captivated by it that i stayed up until 3 am, passed out midway through a chapter, then went home early from work the next day (sick! i was legitimately sick!) and laid in bed with a fever reading through the rest of this fic. the last written work i plowed through with that kind of speed and determination was harry potter and the deathly hallows...ten years ago. 

Honorable Mentions: truthfully i could just link to mike’s whole ao3 page here, but i have to at least give special mention to You Have (1) New Message for making me sob (and being the first fic of mike’s that i read), Feel Good for being delightfully fluffy and soft, Untethered for being so incredibly creative and exciting and having me on the edge of my seat for the entire month it was coming out, and And Sundowns Mend Rhett for making me feel things, as mike is wont to do. 

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The Traveler by @the-average-bear Rating: Mature Chapters: 13 Words: 52,712

Summary: “Rhett's on a journey.”

this fic is probably tied with The Murmur of Yearning for my favorite rhink fic of all time, but i had to give The Traveler the edge only because it’s not...quite an au, and while both fics gave me a lot of feelings, this fic focuses on the rhett and link we know and love. it explores what might have been and what could be — and it touches on my favorite genre of fiction, which is sci-fi. 

rhett finds himself accidentally traveling between timelines, exploring what his life could have been like under different circumstances. the build up to the rhink content is slow, and while there’s some smut, it’s pretty minimal, so this is a very different type of fic than a lot of the others here. but god, if you want to feel every feeling possible about these boys, if you want to cry, if you want to be overwhelmed by how much rhett loves link (and vice versa)...? 

please, please read this fic. 

Honorable Mentions: a lot of their other stuff is from pre-2019 so it’s kind of cheating to rec them on a post of the best fics of 2019, but seriously, please read any and all of their stuff. 

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More Honorable Mentions: i was going to do a lot more, but this list got really long and time consuming and i wasn’t able to do as many as i wanted. but some other authors i absolutely adored this year (in no particular order) are:

Rhincoln | @bloodbros

evenlypaced | @youdidinthedark

cockymclaughlin | @cockymclaughlin

pringlesaremydivision | @pringlesaremydivision

ohmyflavors | (not sure if they have a tumblr?)

LinksLipsSinkShips | @linkslipssinkships

missingparentheses | @missingparentheses

festivalofpudding | @festival-of-pudding

RileyRooin | @rileyrooin

crackers4jenn | @crackers4jenn

TheMouthKing | @themouthking

chronicallyilltrashcan | @chronicallyilltrashcan

#rhink #fic #fic recs #this is incredibly long and it would have been a lot longer if i didn't get tired in the middle of it and decide to be lazy #i'm sorry if i missed anyone #we have so many talented writers i'm sure there are a lot of people i didn't list #but that doesn't mean i don't love your fic

[curious-minx]

A ranking of four 200 Hundredth Episodes: Bob’s Burgers’ recent victory lap stands above the rest

The Bicentennial. How many among us get to be a part of something that get’s broadcasted for over 200 episodes? In the world of animated sitcoms it is a small, Fox dominated burrow. Bob’s Burgers is the latest series to become bestowed with this particular honor, and is possibly the best of the Fox line-up to do so. Family Guy’s 200th episode, Season 11 - Episode 12,  is the only Fox series to be given a full blown on-air anniversary treatment. The episode is a Valentine themed Brian and Stewie lark and like all of the other entries on this list celebrates it’s 200th episode anniversary in a more casual, blithe fashion. Family Guy is the only show Fox has bothered to air an entire half hour  special, but months before the actual airing of the 200th episode in Februrary. I am deliberately skipping over Family Guy and South Park’s 200th episodes. In the former’s stead I chose to watch American Dad’s 200th episode, because McFarlane is such a titan in adult animation that deserves recognition. The South Park episode is too exhausting for me to get into. South Park’s 200th episode, Season 14 - Episode 05, is the one that evoked the wraith of a  New York based Radical Muslim organization that would soon be “shut down” (i.e. members arrested) a few months after the episode aired on April, 2010. The 200th episodes of South Park and the Simpsons are the only two series to have received Emmy nominations, and in Simpsons case a win, due to their 200th episodes. Here’s hoping for Bob’s Burgers to get a similar recognition, because I think its 200th episode is pretty special and straight to the point.

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1.) Bob’s Burgers - “Bob Belcher and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Kids” 

Out of all the 200 episodes is episode the most consciously in conversation with itself. The 200th episode has been treated with a reasonable amount of respect with The A.V. Club bringing their Bob’s Burgers coverage out of retirement and Variety and Salon also got into the mix. Gotta be honest a part of me over at The Curious Minx would prefer if the Bob’s Burgers recap lane was kept on the narrower side, but on the other hand this is a fabulous series that should be written about by as many different publications. 

In a recent  tired and routine zoom Variety interview (https://variety.com/2020/tv/news/bobs-burgers-remote-recording-200th-episode-1234830796/) BB’s creator Loren Bouchard touches upon how this 200th episode is supposed to serve as something of a pilot. An episode so fully realized that even if you are someone with no active bank of knowledge about the Bob’s Burgers minutiae of the Belcher family dynamics and still enjoy this episode as much as a full blown series fan. The episode is written by Steven Davis, a producer and writer with an extensive amount of episode writing and producing credits on Bob’s Burgers. The quality of a Bob’s Burgers script in the pandemic era  is becoming more relevant, because of the diminished role of improv, and this episode definitely feels crafted by a creative team fully in touch and aware of their characters and how to put them in satisfying situations.

Compared to any of the other animated sitcom families, the Belchers are noticeably the more lower middle class. There is a pervading sense of an overall struggle for survival and prosperity that is cooked right into the series pilot debut. Season 1 - Episode 01 “Human Flesh” sets the tone of the series, despite the overall writing and characters being sharper, the stakes have not changed much. Bob’s Burger’s like any American restaurant not under the protective aegis of a Big Franchise is in a state of perpetual turmoil. In the pilot episode the difficulties of running a standard American restaurant are made even more complicated by dysfunctional family hijinks. 

The 200th episode differs from the pilot in one dramatic way and that is the presence of the extended Belcher family member Teddy. In the original pilot Teddy is completely absent, whereas in the 200th episode Teddy’s role as surrogate family member is made even most distinct by having Teddy being invested above and beyond in helping save his pal’s Bobby’s restaurant. The return of the ornery and quirky Health Inspectors Ron and Hugo are serving as the most obvious form of echoing of the pilot. I highly recommend rewatching the pilot after viewing this episode, because I had completely forgotten that the Belcher’s saving grace is that Hugo and Linda were once in a relationship together. The pilot is noticably very contained setting wise, focusing exclusively in and around the Belcher family restaurant. Whereas, the 200th episode explores more settings with the Belcher children going across town to find a replacement for Bob’s broken oven part, an oven that they feel they are entirely to blame for destroying. A couple of celebrity guests Stephanie Beatriz and SNL’s Kyle Mooney that true to Bob’s Burgers spirits are usually just playing characters of little to no consequence. Unlike the other Fox family in this list that really leans in on having celebrities playing themselves, the best celebrity guest appearances on Bob’s Burgers tend to be the most anonymous, and Kyle Mooney’s put upon hardware store clerk is a great example of this. 

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t dwell on the satisfying Linda contribution of the episode. Linda makes the critical set piece that ignites the restaurant fire. Linda’s gnarly mermaid sculpture is a great visual metaphor for the series. Especially when the Mermaid Statue is used to build up a very well constructed song-based gag. The whole episode made me feel really good about the state of the series and especially the Movie (And Loren Bouchard backs this up by giving interviewers the impression that the film’s delay has only improved its quality). As far as 200 episodes of long running animated sitcoms go, you certainly can’t go wrong with this one!

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2. King of the Hill - Hank’s Bully

By all accounts the most unremarkable episode on this list. An episode that also has a trollish spirit that gets a sadistic glee in tormenting the fuddy duddy Hill patriarch. This is the also the 200th episode with the lowest stakes, the least of a spectacle, and most unassuming 200th episode. While trying to research anything of note to include in my review of the episode all I could find was this reddit post (https://www.reddit.com/r/KingOfTheHill/comments/bpl235/hanks_bully_was_near_impossible_to_watch/) where a user is criticizing the way in which Hank it mistreated. When I was rewatching this episode my partner also found this episode hard to watch and sympathized with Hank’s plight against a Clifford-like malicious imp of a hateful child who’s sole purpose is to make the lives of everyone else around him more difficult. 

To me what most stands out about this episode is the fantastic direction by longtime King of the Hill animator, former Bob’s Burgers animator, and current Rick and Morty director, Kyoung Hee Lim. A seemingly badass woman  working in a field that is not particularly kind to women or to women of color. I am pretty shocked that no one in all of her years as a director on some pretty important shows has brought her up or did an interview piece on her. Maybe this is something the good folks at The Curious Minx can aspire to? I am definitely going to be taking a further dive into the 22 episodes of King of the Hill that she directed and revisit the 15 episodes of Bob’s Burgers to see if I can discern what makes a Kyoung Hee Lim episode. 

One major ploy detail that I noticed in this episode, a detail that is also oddly prevalent on the other two 200th episodes, is the trash talk. And by that I do mean literal trash talk. The B-plot of this episode is what makes the episode pop for me in that the pairing of Dale and Peggy is a really successful one. The episode finds Dale frustrated with the Arlington Waste department and how they won’t take his refrigerator full of dead squirrels and his freeze full of dead crow. Dale then takes advantage of this dead blessing in disguise by getting into the world of competitive taxidermy with Peggy’s creative eye complimenting Dale’s gruesome technical prowess.   Both of these characters operate on such an oddly similar wave lengths that watching the two of them embark on a taxidermy journey together was strangely touching and fun to watch. And I am a vegan that feels weird about killing animals in video games, but the ending visual gag of the episode is especially inspired. My one complaint is that the episode is severely lacking in Bobby Hill. Probably because I just recently finished watching Better Things and basically want every show to be the Pamela Adlon show all the time. 

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3.) American Dad - “The Two Hundred”

Visually and conceptually this 200th episode really impressed me. As previously mentioned at the start of the post, I am not someone that is particularly warm to the McFarlane brand of comedy, but American Dad really is where he saves his best work for. This 200th episode got the complete opposite treatment of Family Guy. Airing on a Monday night on TBS this episode was pretty much given a shrug, but that does not tamper down any of its ambitions. The whole episode is basically a pastiche of Apocalyptic Dystopian alternative timeline tropes centering around an alone and traumatized by his past Stan. The episode has one of the most clever ongoing visual gags I have seen on a show where flash backs are teed up by Stan’s ridiculous new post apocalyptic tattoos. The core family and ancillary characters of American Dad are all given terrific moments to shine in this heightened post apocalyptic hellscape, and the key to any enduring series success if whether or not you can tell that the creatives involved respect and enjoy the characters that they are writing for. This being a McFarlane project there are a couple of embarrassing lines of dialogue from the show’s respective gay and Black characters and an over indulgence on Rodger based humor, but overall this 200th episode left me with more appreciation for this series as a whole. I will still always make sure to appreciate whenever a long running creative property takes stylistic swings and risks.While there is nothing particularly fresh or novel about a cannibal laden post apocalyptic wasteland this 200th episode managed to find some find fun character beats to subvert tropes or double down on them. The visual of a consistently on the move runaway train that is also mysteriously always on fire was also especially well executed. This episode could easily have been a series finale if the series hadn’t already played around with alternative timelines like in their Christmas specials. 

This episode also features more trash talk! One of Stan’s tattooed regrets revolves around Francine failing to get the trash picked up on trash day because Stan had purposely neglected to take it out. This rather odd pattern is about to make a whole lot of sense with the fourth and my least favorite 200th episode by the Simpsons.

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4.) The Simpsons - Trash of the Titans

How many more times can I impress upon you that the 200th episode  of your animated sitcom is an  an occasion for trash talk? One more time. This 200th episode of The Simpsons is by far the most trash centric 200th episode of them all. The first animated adult sitcom to get over the 200th episode hump, the 200th episode  “Trash of the Titans” has some fun real-world trivia attached to it, but other than that this is one of the lesser “Golden Era” Simpsons offerings by a long shot. 

My primary source on contention with the episode lies in the direction Homer takes in most of the episode. A 2016 Uproxx (https://uproxx.com/media/simpsons-donald-trump-hillary-clinton/) article gained traction and a Wikipedia citation by comparing Homer’s antics to that of possible former rising Dictator Donald Trump. The episode involves Homer acting at his absolute most abhorrent in an election to boot, and his behavior in this episode is some of the most irredeemable Homer has ever been. The article oddly neglects to make note of the fact that Homer in this episode also makes similar slights against Mexico, referring it to an inherently “dirtier” country.  The episode ends on a truly groan inducing aged as fine as old socks in the cheese drawer with a crying Native American gag. Ah 1998 when we could pretend that the Crying Native American commercial was just silly social commentary and not racial minstrelsy. 

There is also one other instance that didn’t sit well with me and that’s when Homer is seen physically assaulting a woman working the booth at a U2 concert. I could handle the bullish descent into crooked politician, but watching Homer violently push a woman out of the way felt out of place. A retread of all the growth and development we’ve seen him go through over the course of 200 episodes. Of the other three patriarchs discussed on this list a Homer Simpson centric plot tend to not work as well for me especially if you compare him to the other animated TV fathers. 

The episode also features two celebrity guest spots. One made by Steve Martin who does a good job becoming more or less unrecognizable as the original Springfield Sanitation Commissioner Ray Patterson. The other celebrity guest appearance is more of an ill-portent of signs to come with U2 playing themselves. Whenever a celebrity is playing themselves on The Simpsons it usually does not work out. Not everyone can be used to advance a plot as seamlessly as Barry White. Although it is funny, funny in a “oh, we were so much simpler” sort of way that this episode garnered controversy and a ban on UK television over U2 and Mister Burns’ use of the word, “wanker.” Flash forward to 2009 and Bono is once again throwing around his favorite cheeky pejorative this time in reference to fellow earnest bland frontman Chris Martin (https://www.music-news.com/news/UK/24741/Read). 

Resting Wanker Face

The other fun factoid about this episode once again is not related to the show, but the show’s influence spilling out into the real world. In the late 80s and throughout the 90s, Adams Mine was an abandoned pit located somewhere in Ontario situated in a term I’m learning for the first time, the “Canadian Shield.” An exactly similar proposal is made by Homer Simpson during his reign of Sanitation Commissioner. This sweeping of trash under the rug does culminate into a satisfying visual gag as a climax that feels like a Garbage Pail Kid/Toxic Avenger version of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. More bizarrely and unfortunate, this episode also aired a week after the passing of Linda McCartney. How messed up is that? Couldn’t they just have waited at the end of the season or at least on an episode that doesn’t involve wallowing in filth? 

The episode features another developing bad habit in terms of the inclusion of songs and song parodies. There is virtually no connection to Willy Wonka in this episode other than the fact that both “Candy Man” and “Trash Man” have share a similar pronoun. Unlike the use of songs in Bob’s Burgers where they tend to be unique to the character’s reaction to dramatic consequence, on the Simpsons it’s more often than not a  a song for the sake of a song. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but why not go for a joke about parodying real musical trash titans, The Cramps, or even trash up a U2 song? On the episode’s Wikipedia entry in the Production section Matt Groening is quoted to saying that the visual gag of a department store sporting the slogan, “Over a Century Without a Slogan,” wasted a lot of man hours. So much effort and reach for a joke with a fraction of a minimal of pay off is essentially the Simpsons ethos in one visual gag. 

Once again, it bears repeating that this episode is also rewarded for an Emmy. If you break down the episode as starting off as a satire of Holiday Commercialism with the creation of the cynical Love Day holiday and ending the episode as a foreboding parable about the very real ecological repercussions of improper waste management. This clearly sounds like classic Simpsons reverse engineering management. Instead this is a classic case of an episode of the Simpsons being more interesting to think about than it is to actually watch. This is also the 200th episode that least honors its central cast of characters. Marge and Lisa are both afforded meager moments of wisdom and decency, but Bart is more or less even more irrelevant to the plot than Bobby Hill was on his 200th episode. 

As for today it seems like the only Simpsons anniversary that will likely rouse any more attention it’s way will be the 1,000th episode.. Think how much more trash we as a collective species will have made by the time that milestone roils around!

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In Conclusion:

When you start to make 200 episodes of anything the one feeling that seems to creep up is one of, “taking out the trash,” or you’re making art out of trash. Trash being a metaphor for the entire medium of Television. The TV market is an ever growing landfill, one of America’s Rapiest Dads made a whole cartoon about kids living and learning life lessons in a junk yard. So much of Television is only a means of  mass marketing  ground up pieces of detritus. Then you’re supposed to be grateful that your detritus gets to be a bumper for advertisements and the occasional merchandising. You’re an adult, you’re not supposed to take cartoons seriously. They are empty calories, brain noise, and at best background noise. Yet they are the only types of shows that can consistently manage to get over well over the 200 episode mark. At least back before the Netflix business model of show’s only deserving 1.5 seasons. 

Bob’s Burgers is reaching its 200th episode in an unfathomable media landscape, one that is completely demolished and in the process of being rebuilt from the aftermath of the coronavirus. The 2020s could be a turning point for animation going forward, animation is a severely grueling and technically difficult sector. This newfound interest in the medium may finally be  the financial boost and support that it dearly needs in order to properly pay artists for their work. The creators of these series may not think of what they do as art and to keep themselves afloat have to think of the act of bringing an animated sitcom into the world as necessary as taking out the trash. Our trash is a mirror. Inside the landfill we see our own morals and values reflected right back at us. Bringing forth life means a lot of shit. With every year you keep an infant human alive that means (x) amount of disposable diapers piled up. I suggest we make like the Belcher children and try to salvage our trash, put a wig on our trash, put a crop top on our trash, paint some lashes on your trash, because we’re all in the end up going to be put into the ground (beef). 

#Bob's Burgers #The Simpsons #American Dad #King Of the Hill #TV #TV Review #TV Series #Animation #Cartoon #Anniversary #200

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 2 (spoilers for everything)

(covers MDZS chaps 6 - 10 and a bit of 13)

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

(a 🐰 is earned every time there is a WangXian scene or even when they’re just thinking of each other)

I always tell people when I’m trying to get them to watch The Untamed that when they get to this particular scene in the second episode, they’ll know if they will be into the show. To me, this is the game-changer moment: you’re either in or out after this. If this scene doesn’t emotionally move you enough to at least continue on with the drama, nothing else will.  It is seriously one of the most romantic scenes I have ever seen captured on screen. This was the moment that made me realize not only was I now fully committed to CQL, but that I had also found a new obsession and was ready to devote myself to Mo Dao Zu Shi.  After all, something that can lead to the creation of such a beautiful scene MUST hold other invaluable treasures. So into the MDZS rabbit hole I went, happily diving head first.  

Even now I’m still amazed that this scene exists in the intact form that it does. I started The Untamed with little to no expectations, especially knowing the restrictions it was under AND having just finished Guardian and experiencing how poor creative decisions can arise due to censorship (or at least, using that as an excuse for their dumb story choices). As I mentioned previously, the first episode was a hard sell since they definitely did not put their best foot forward first, but I liked Xiao Zhan immediately and Wei Wuxian as a character was interesting enough that I wanted to learn more about his past that led to his death and rebirth. The small glimpses we saw of his relationship with Lan Zhan also fascinated me, but then with this second episode, the weak points of the pilot still remained: there was still bad CGI (the statue) and very amateurish technical mistakes (in the recognition scene, at one point, in a close-up shot they’re holding onto each other, but in the next far away backside shot they’re clearly standing apart from each other, only to return to holding each other once again once the camera cuts back to a close-up...whoever the editor is on CQL probably should dunk their head in the toilet every time these editing errors pop up) that made my initial viewing of this episode a frustrating one for most of its runtime. I think I spent most of my initial viewing just distracted, playing on my phone or something, until the big WangXian moment happened and then I was shocked and awed.  I know I wasn’t paying close attention that first time because when I rewatched the episode later on, I realized I missed a lot of dialogue and details. I have since revisited this second episode numerous times more, and I do feel bad about how dismissive I was initially. It’s a pretty loaded episode: it has funny, poignant, creepy, mysterious, and cool moments while still feeding us bits of the overarching plot. I definitely have developed an affection for it since my first viewing and it’s become one of my favorite episodes in the series.

Of Pining & other Heart-achy Things

This simple line from Jiang Cheng is enough to make my eyes well up with tears: I can’t help but imagine Lan Zhan traveling around the world for sixteen years, most likely all alone, stopping at different places to play Inquiry, fervently hoping that maybe one day he’ll finally receive an answering chord from Wei Ying, only to be confronted by a deafening silence again and again and again. How utterly sad and disappointed he must have been every time, and yet still, he never gave up and just went to the next location to do the same thing and experience the same heavy disappointment all over again. If that doesn’t make your heart ache, I’m sorry to tell you, your heart is no longer functional.

It’s a detail I don’t remember if the novel covered, but I’m assuming that Lan Zhan was the one to bring Wei Ying’s inventions like the spirit attraction flag and the compass back to Gusu and incorporate them for use in his sect’s normal cultivation practices.  I know other people have use his tools as well since that nameless cultivator at the start of the episode was also using the spirit compass, but I feel that with Lan Wangji, he probably purposefully acquired and adapted WWX’s techniques so that every time they’re used, they can serve as a reminder of Wei Ying for him. Though it does make me wonder how Lan Zhan managed to get those approved by his uncle; I can’t imagine Lan Qiren being ok with using anything that was created by the man whom he blames for the corruption of his beloved nephew and model student. Did LWJ just pretend he created them instead? That doesn’t even sound right. Maybe Uncle Lan decided to be merciful and just let Lan Zhan win this one since he was probably obviously miserable after Wei Ying’s death.   Yeah, I can buy that scenario, especially since the flag and compass are pretty useful tools.  

I wondered did LWJ already suspect “Mo Xuanyu” was Wei Ying before he started playing Wuji on his flute. It’s curious that he happened to be in that part of the forest at that time. I’m guessing his Wei Ying senses were tingled when he heard about Mo Xuanyu’s skills from Sizhui and the boys so that’s why he was hanging around the vicinity just in case MXY reveals his true identity. After waiting 16 years for this reunion, it’s no wonder Lan Zhan had no qualms about holding onto WWX’s wrist in public for much longer than socially appropriate.  

I actually get a little emotional every time I rewatch this episode and watch Jin Ling display his mad archery skills because I would always think of how much he takes after his dad. His parents would’ve been so proud to see him all grown up like this; Shijie would’ve been so happy she probably would get teary-eyed as well every time she saw her boy in action. Sure, he’s a spoiled little princess, but he is also a pretty skilled princess with a heart of gold and I just wish they had more time together as a family.  

They looked so happy, look at all those smiles. It really makes me so sad that Wei Ying will probably never be able to hug JC like that again, and of course he’ll never be able to hug Shijie period. Great now I want to cry again.

Lan Jingyi Appreciation Section

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this precious boy by name so far, so I wanted to take this opportunity to show him some much deserved love. Lan Jingyi with his resting bitch face and steady stream of snark was really the MVP of this episode. He actually made me laugh out loud a few times...in fact, he almost always makes me laugh as soon as he scrunches up his face like he’s smelling something bad. I recently saw someone mention that he’s really the most un-Lan of the Lans (sorry, I forgot who posted that so I apologies for not giving proper credit) and that is really the perfect description of him. I love this kid as much as I love Sizhui and Jin Ling, and I am also sincerely fascinated by him. I mean, who raised him in the Gusu Lan sect? Cuz I cannot imagine Lan Qiren being the one since Jingyi undoubtedly would’ve had all his snark driven out of him at an early age. Hell, the amount of disciplinary action he probably had to have gone through would’ve probably killed him at a young age.  Did he join the sect when he was already fully formed so that’s why he’s still breaking Lan sect rules right and left? He threatened an old man and is like rude to everyone. I don’t know all 3000 rules but I’m pretty sure being mean to the elderly and insulting to supposedly mentally unstable people are probably not allowed. If anything, his disposition would make him more suitable for the Lanling Jin sect and yet he’s with the stuffy Lans. WHY? I could watch a whole spin-off series with just him and the other juniors as long as we get to learn about how he came to be with the Gusu Lan sect. He’s hilarious and adorable, and among the many the reasons why I wish we had more episodes for the present-day arc, one of them is because I wanted to spend more time with the juniors, especially Lan Jingyi, even if it meant the screenwriters would’ve had to go off book and create new scenes for them. It would’ve been well worth it to hear LJY throw more shade at people.  

Random Bits of Randomness

It’s kinda crazy how WWX just stood there with his back turned, oblivious to Jin Ling’s attack. If Lan Zhan’s blade hadn’t blocked JL’s sword, that would’ve been the end of our main protagonist. I just thought that was such an odd scene...I would’ve felt just a little better if Wei Ying had at least had a little more awareness that an attack was heading for him and made some attempt to get out of the way.  

Ugh, that mask. First of all it’s ugly AF, and secondly it’s so freaking ill-fitting it was distracting. Would’ve been nice if the production team gave him a mask that actually fit his face. I mean, did it HAVE to be THAT damn big? I’m amazed they don’t have bts clips of Xiao Zhan tripping and hurting himself because the stupid mask blocked his vision.

Other than being a brilliant mastermind and Oscar-worthy actor, Nie Huaisang has got to be one of the greatest cultivators if not THE greatest cultivator of all time to be able to conjure up an illusion like that. That thing was doing real damage to people. If it was just a phantom, what the heck was holding up those two cultivators in midair like that? And what kicked Jin Ling around? I know Wei Ying was able to drive people crazy with his flute during his Yiling Patriarch phase, but his handiwork still felt more grounded and reasonable than this.  

Questions I still have (please feel free to answer them):

- Who was that old man at the grave? Someone NHS paid to just hang around the graves until the juniors and WWX came by?  

- So NHS basically fucked up Yan’s entire family and God knows how many other people just to get WWX to eventually play his flute to lure Wen Ning out from wherever he was hiding?

- How did JGY not know Wen Ning escaped? Or did he just leave those details to Xue Yang so he didn’t really care about what happened to Wen Ning?  I’m trying if this was addressed in the book but my mind is coming up empty. I don’t think it was brought up in the show though, or I just completely missed it.

Overall Episode Rating: 9 Lil Apples out of 10

#The Untamed #陈情令 #spoilers #Untamed Rewatch #WangXian #Mo Dao Zu Shi #CQL #MDZS #魔道祖师 #Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #Lan Zhan Lan Wangji #Wei Ying Wei Wuxian #Lan Jingyi #Jin Ling #Nie Huaisang #Jiang Yanli #Jin Zixuan #Jin Guangyao

[welcometonyadarpg]

↳ OOC INFO

NAME: Steph.

AGE: 28.

TIMEZONE: MST.

↳ IC INFO

NAME: Danielle “Dani” Elizabeth Harper.

AGE: 26.

HOMETOWN: Dallas, Texas.

MAJOR: Music.

SEXUALITY: Homosexual.

SHIPS: Dani/Chemistry.

ANTI-SHIPS: Dani/Forced, Dani/Dudes.

FC: Demi Lovato.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Ambitious, honest, creative.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Impulsive, blunt, indecisive.

↳ BIOGRAPHY

The last place Dani ever expected to end up was NYC. For as long as she could remember, she had big dreams of running off to California and getting a record deal. That’s how things worked, right? At least, that’s what she believed growing up. As a kid, she would spend hours singing into a brush while she imagined a huge crowd screaming her name. It was all she ever wanted. She would practice the piano for hours, write songs in her journal, and eventually learn to play the guitar. And she knew that she was good. She could feel herself getting a little better everyday. Nobody could tell her that she wasn’t meant for greatness. At the time, even her parents were completely supportive. They knew how talented their little girl was. They would sign her up for everything. Dancing lessons, singing lessons, talent shows. Anything to help her talent grow and make her shine. Dani had considered herself lucky to have them. They were her number one fans. Everything seemed to be going great. Until it wasn’t.

Dani was fourteen when she started seeing a different side of her parents. They still seemed to support her dreams, but something was definitely off. They cheered her on less and criticized her more. From her looks, to her music, and even her friends. Nothing was off limits. If she dressed a certain way; they would tell her to be more feminine. If a song she had written seemed to dark; they would tell her to brighten up. It was as if she was finding herself; while her parents told her to be someone else. She didn’t understand it. At least, not back then. They were doing what was best for her, right? They wanted her to succeed. It took her two years to realize why her parents were like this. They saw something that she hadn’t yet figured out for herself. They weren’t helping her become the star that she wanted to be. They were trying to mold her into what they wanted. The perfect daughter; she would call it. Except that would never be her. It was at the age of sixteen that she lost her parents completely. All because she fell in love.

Sara was the kind of girl that Dani wanted to be. She was confident; she was beautiful, and she was fearless. There was never anything fake about her. She was just herself. She did whatever she wanted and she got whatever she wanted. And to Dani’s surprise; what she wanted was her. It all started when Dani signed up for her schools talent show. Her parents thought it was a waste of time. They told her she should be focusing her talents elsewhere, but she had something else in mind. This wasn’t for any sort of recognition. She was doing this to have fun with her friends. It was during her first rehearsal that Dani met Sara. She was sitting on stage with her guitar just strumming along. She was having trouble with the lyrics. As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t feel inspired. She had no idea that she was being watched. Sara wasn’t interested in the talent show. She was forced to help setup; along with the rest of detention. Dani still didn’t know why she was in trouble that day, but she heard a rumor that she told off a teacher and threatened to take his wife. She always thought that was funny. After getting to know the other girl; she didn’t even doubt that it was true.

After a few minutes of being watched, Dani finally looked up from her guitar and confronted Sara. She didn’t know why she was watching her, but she assumed it was to make fun of her. To her surprise; she wasn’t trying to mock her at all. She actually just wanted to tell her how good she was. It had been a long time since she heard an actual compliment. She couldn’t help but smile. From then on, the compliments didn’t stop. Sara was constantly telling her how amazing she was. How talented she was or how beautiful. It took Dani awhile to realize that the other girl wasn’t just being nice. She was flirting with her. It really scared her at first. Dani never had any problems with anyone, but her parents had always told her that homosexuality was wrong. The way Sara made her feel felt anything but wrong, though. In fact, besides her music; it was the only thing that felt right. For the first time ever, she could actually be herself with someone. Being with Sara had completely changed her life. In more ways than one.

After being together throughout the school year; Sara couldn’t stop asking Dani when she planned on coming out. Dani knew that asking her to hide their relationship was unfair, but it was the only way they could actually be together. She knew that her parents would never be okay with who she was. She heard it a thousand time. Being gay was wrong. She had convinced herself that they could somehow work through this. They would only have to keep it a secret until Dani was eighteen. Then they could run away and be together. A part of her knew that wouldn’t work, though. Sara had been two years older than her. At the end of the year, Sara would graduate and leave for college. Meanwhile, Dani still had two years of high school left. Even that didn’t stop her from being in total denial. She acted like everything was completely fine. Right until the end of the year. It was the day before Sara’s graduation. She had come over to Dani’s house; looking sad and anxious. Dani knew what was about to happen.  At least, she thought that she knew. She really had no idea what was to come.

Dani sat on her bed next to Sara; waiting for the other girl to tell her they were through. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She knew that her girlfriend had dreams of making it to New York. It was her dream home. She knew she had been accepted to a few schools, so there was really no reason for her to stay in Dallas anymore. Even if Dani had been in love with her. A part of her wanted to ask the older girl to stay. It was only two years; she could wait for her. Then they could go to New York together. She just couldn’t do it, though. It wouldn’t be fair. As hard as it was; she knew she had to let the other girl go. She gave her best fake smile and told her to go. She only had one request. One last kiss. If they were going to go their separate ways; she at least wanted to remember what it was like to kiss her for the very last time. Sara couldn’t deny such a request. After all, she wanted it just as bad as Dani did.

One kiss. That was all it was supposed to be. One last goodbye kiss. Then Sara would leave and Dani would continue hiding who she was. She had no way of knowing that her parents were home. They usually worked late, so she figured the only other people in the house were her siblings. She was very wrong. It was during their last kiss ever that Dani’s parents decided to show up. To say that they freaked out would have been an understatement. She had never seen them so angry before. The two of them started shouting so many things; she could barely understand what they were saying. She can remember the words “sinful,” ‘disgusting,” and “dyke,” being thrown around. She tried her best to deny what was going on, but it was no use. They knew what they had seen. They didn’t even try listening to her. Her mother just shook her head while her father grabbed Sara by the arm, throwing her out of the house. Dani had expected that. Then after a long lecture; they told her she had 24 hours to get out of their house. She hadn’t expected that.

Luckily for Dani, she had a really good best friend. She was taken in by her second family; who showed her the unconditional love and support she thought she had from her parents. Sara had left without a word. Dani couldn’t blame her. They had technically already said their goodbyes. Still, she had hoped to see the girl at least once more before she left. She wanted to tell her how sorry she was. That she didn’t deserve to be treated the way her parents had treated her. It was no use, though. She was gone and Dani had to move on. The next two years felt like they dragged on. Dani was ready to finish school and get out of town. She didn’t know where she was going anymore, she just knew she had to get away from her parents. She couldn’t stand seeing them around. If they came to the school for one of her siblings; or happened to bump into her at the grocery store, they would turn and run. As if they hadn’t seen her. Dani knew that they had, though. They just couldn’t stand to look at her. It hurt at first, but after awhile, she just got angry. How could they do this to her? She was their daughter!

By the time graduation had come around; Dani was already packed and ready to leave. She didn’t have much. In fact, she barely had enough stuff to fill up her backpack. It was mostly clothes, her songbook, and a few things she managed to take with her when she left her parents’ house. As well as her guitar, of course. She always thought that she would have an emotional goodbye with her family. She tried her best to stay in contact with her younger siblings, but that was hard to do when her parents were always watching them. They would talk at school here and there, but even then she tried to keep it brief. She didn’t want her parents getting angry with them, too. She did say goodbye to her best friend and second family, though. They were the reason she was even able to finish high school. If it wasn’t for them, she probably would have had to drop out. She owed them a lot. One day, she was going to pay them back for everything they did for her.

College was never a part of Dani’s plan. She always thought she would go to California, sing for some big music producer, and then get a record contract. Things had changed, though. Plans had changed. Instead of going to Cali, she found herself heading in the opposite direction. New York City. She used to tell herself that she was going for herself. New York would be a great place to make music. If she was being honest, though; she knew that wasn’t the real reason. She was just chasing what she had once lost. She knew finding her ex in a huge city was a crazy idea. The city was huge; and she didn’t even know which school  Sara ended at. For some reason, she was determined to find her, though. She had to find her. After a few years, she realized it was no use. She hadn’t landed a record deal, she was working at some crappy diner, and she still had no idea where her ex was. It was hopeless. She had thought about packing up her crap and leaving. She didn’t know where she was going; she just knew things weren’t working out here. She was going to work one mre shift at the diner and then she was gone.

Fate had different plans for Dani that night. She should learn by now to stop making plans, since they never went the way they were supposed to. She wasn’t supposed to sing at the diner that night, but when everyone else refused to get on stage, she just rolled her eyes at did it herself. Instead of doing one of their usual covers, she decided to sing one of her originals. A song she had written when she was sixteen. A song that was unfinished, until she met the girl who would change everything for her. It had been years since she had sung that song. She couldn’t even remember why she chose it. All she really knew was that she wanted to sing something that meant something to her. It was her last shift. What were they going to do? It’s not like they could fire her. Dani had no idea that this choice was about to change everything for her.

Having dinner that night was Carmen Tibideaux. She was the dean for a performing arts college. A place called NYADA. Dani never really thought about going to college, but she was starting to run out of options here. She wasn’t getting any closer to achieving her dreams. Maybe what she needed was to take a new approach. The only issue was being able to afford it. Even if she did keep her job at the diner; she was barely making enough to cover her rent. Carmen wouldn’t take no for an answer, though. She told Dani that she could take a job at the school and live on campus. She would have to work harder than most students there, but she promised her it would be worth it. Dani was a senior now and she truly believes that Carmen was right. She never once regretted going to NYADA, even if it took her awhile to find her place. She truly felt that no matter what came next; she was going to be ready for it. There wasn’t anything that she couldn’t handle.

#taken #taken female #harper #glee rp #glee au rp #glee multiples rp