#((moving this thread to a new text post :D))

[mumms-the-word]

Illithid Souls - Part 1

What’s up with mind flayers and souls anyway?

I know this deep dive has been done before like a hundred times, based on all the Reddit threads I’ve read, but I feel like a lot of the "evidence" has been scattered about in a lot of places (reddit, tumblr, other threads, other socials, etc). So I figured...why not gather a lot of it here in one place?

As with all my deep dives, this post is designed to equip you with some lore so you can build your own theories and ideas. I’ll offer theories that I find interesting or feasible, but lore is always a little hazy so I’m bound to be wrong or you’re bound to interpret things differently. Just have fun with the lore!

I’ll start by defining what D&D calls a soul, and then…well it unravels from there. In this part we're going to dive into the lore about souls, the afterlife, and where mind flayers differ, along with a bit of in-game context. In Part 2 we'll look at individual case studies (Tav/Durge, Orpheus, Karlach, and Gale).

Buckle up, folks, cause it's a long one!

As always, I’ll include images and image descriptors/text written out in case the pictures fail or are too small to read!

What is a soul?

The entire game of Baldur's Gate 3 is heavily invested in the idea of souls. Raphael wants to bargain with your soul. Mizora has Wyll's soul bound to a contract. Cazador plans to sacrifice 7007 souls. Vlaakith consumes the souls of her faithful. Karlach wants to collect (and use) soul coins. Every tadpoled follower of the Absolute is called a True Soul. This game is OBSESSED with souls.

But it never actually defines a soul, does it? So what do the official D&D rules say?

Well...they don't. Older editions used to split hairs about the difference between a soul and a spirit, but those older editions also used to say that elves, orcs, and half-orcs didn't have souls, so...we've moved on a bit from those days.

In the game, a book on soul coins defines souls as "the sum of personal and magical essence," which is both helpful and vague. The general player consensus is that a soul is the animating "force" that is made up of memories, personality, intelligence, and (possibly) morality, and that in some cases, such as the spell Speak with Dead, a soul differs from a spirit, which merely "animates" the body but does not actually possess the personality or the thinking capabilities of the deceased (though it may have access to memories).

Speak with Dead [...] Until the spell ends, you can ask the corpse up to five questions. The corpse knows only what it knew in life, including the languages it knew. [...] This spell doesn't return the creature's soul to its body, only its animating spirit. Thus, the corpse can't learn new information, doesn't comprehend anything that has happened since it died, and can't speculate about future events.

So there's a chance that while an entire soul is generally made up of personality, memories, and some element of active thinking/decision making/speculation (intelligence, for lack of a better term), the part of a soul that functions as an "animating spirit" is what houses memory. In other words, animating spirit (memories) + personality + intelligence = soul.

This idea of the animating spirit (memories) being housed within a soul, but also detachable from a soul, is important for later, so remember this in a bit.

Souls also have power, which is why the game is obsessed with everyone fighting over souls. Raphael, Mizora, and Cazador trade in souls in exchange for power. There are insinuations in the game that the gods want to stop the "scourge of soulless illithids" (Mystra's words) because souls are a kind of currency to them (though, trust me, trying to find a recent D&D source that clearly states that particular stance is a damn migraine of an endeavor). But Withers does say that souls imbue gods with power, so the game at least operates with that assumption in mind.

According to Withers…

We all know that Withers, aka Jergal, aka the Final Scribe, aka the former god of death, aka the expert on souls, has plenty to say when you ask him to elaborate on anything:

Well, okay, maybe he doesn't. But he does have a bit more to say about souls and mind flayers. For example, when he first brings up the topic of illithids and souls in Moonrise, this is some of the information he can give the player.

Withers: I shall ask yet again. Do illithids possess souls? Player: These abominations are soulless, surely. Withers: Correct. - Player: I'm not sure. Don't all living things? Withers: No. Nor canst thou count mind flayers among them. - Player: I admit I haven't thought about it. Withers: Thou shalt think about it now, and I shall give the answer. Mind flayers are soulless. Yet the Three amass an illithid army, void of apostolic souls that could imbue them with power.

A couple of things to note here. Jergal, the guy in charge of putting down the names of people who die and keeping track of where their souls go, is pretty clear that he thinks mind flayers don't have souls. But his last statement clarifies two things: one, that he is referring specifically to apostolic souls (more on that in a bit) and that souls imbue gods with power.

Souls give the gods a kind of strength. He brings this up when he criticizes the dumb plot the Dead Three came up with in his post-epilogue scene:

Thou sought to bolster thy strength by taking away the souls of mortals. But souls vanish when their hosts become mind flayers.

So we know that souls are a source of power for deities and gods because they imbue gods with power and strength. But gods only get the power of these souls after a mortal dies with their soul intact. If someone becomes a mind flayer...well, let's just say the natural order of things gets disrupted.

What happens when you die?

You see, normally, when someone dies in Faerûn (assuming they are humanoid), their soul travels to the Fugue Plane where it basically waits around until a deity picks them up or Kelemvor decides they're just going to be part of the Wall of the Faithless for forever. From the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide (page 20 because I am, as youtuber Swoop says in her docs, a thorough bitch):

The Afterlife Most humans believe the souls of the recently deceased are spirited away to the Fugue Plane, where they wander the great City of Judgment, often unaware they are dead. The servants of the gods come to collect such souls and, if they are worthy, they are taken to their awaited afterlife in the deity's domain. Occasionally, the faithful are sent back to be reborn into the world to finish work that was left undone.

This is where the idea of apostolic souls comes in. Apostolic, in its most basic definition, means "having the characteristics of an apostle," or having the characteristics of someone who dedicates their entire lives to the teaching of a particular religious figure (in our context and reality, this mostly means the apostles of Christ, but in BG3 it would refer to any deity). I think here, the definition gets stretched a little thinner to mean any soul that is capable of devotion to a deity, rather than a soul that is already devoted. Apostolic souls can be Faithful, Faithless, or False (which is how souls are separated in the Fugue Plane).

In other words, an apostolic soul is a humanoid-specific soul that the deities recognize and can use as a source of power by inviting said soul into their domain. Mind flayers do not have apostolic souls. Emphasis on apostolic here, but we'll back to mind flayers in a minute. For now, let's look at the Faithless and False souls.

Souls that are unclaimed by the servants of the gods are judged by Kelemvor, who decides the fate of each one. Some are charged with serving as guides for other lost souls, while others are transformed into squirming larvae and cast into the dust. The truly false and faithless are mortared into the Wall of the Faithless, the great barrier that bounds the City of the Dead, where their souls slowly dissolve and begin to become part of the stuff of the Wall itself.

Depressing.

The distinction between a Faithless and a False soul is a little hazy, but according to the Forgotten Realms wiki, a Faithless soul is someone who never aligned themselves to the worship of a specific deity or who just didn't believe in the existence of the gods at all (think of Astarion, who outright rejects all gods). A False soul, in contrast, is someone who did believe but failed to serve their god or outright betrayed them (a fate that Gale feels he is faced with for being on Mystra's bad side). Allegedly all the Faithless end up becoming part of the Wall, whereas the False could get mitigated sentences, such as becoming guides for other souls.

Of course, there's nothing stopping deities from combing through Faithless or False souls to collect them into their domains. But it could take a while. Clearly, the more souls a god collects into their domains, the more powerful they become, but the gods are also not exactly fighting over the souls of Faithless or False people, because people can end up waiting hundreds of years before Kelemvor is finally like "guess you're part of the wall now." Your only option to get out of that is to sell your soul to a devil, which isn't a much better fate.

From The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide, page 25, regarding servants of Asmodeus:

To those not so dedicated, priests of Asmodeus offer the prospect of a reprieve in the afterlife. All souls wait on the Fugue Plane for a deity's pleasure, which determines where a soul will spend the rest of eternity. Those who lived their lives most in keeping with a deity's outlook are taken first. Others, who have transgressed in the eyes of their favored god or have not followed any particular ethos, might wait centuries before Kelemvor judges where they go. People who fear such a fate can pray to Asmodeus, his priests say, and in return a devil will grant a waiting soul some comfort.

This makes me infer two things: first, that the gods are kind of picky about which souls they want to join their domain (regardless of what actually happens to that soul in a deity's domain, which is a topic for a different post entirely, because the results may vary) and therefore the gods aren't just going to go with any soul that ends up in the Fugue Plane. Second, that the gods aren't exactly in a hurry to choose among wandering souls, likely because the Material Plane just keeps producing and destroying mortals, resulting in a constant flow of souls.

We see a glimpse of a god's perspective on the influx of souls when Gale confronts Mystra in the Stormshore Tabernacle (in this case, when you play him as an Origin):

Gale: You're one to talk. How many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if I detonated the orb? Mystra: Such eddies are unexpectional. Souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust. The Weave cannot be lost because we are unwilling to cause a ripple. And that is what is at stake.

She then goes on to say "With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids." This is what's at stake. The loss of souls on the Material Plane.

The Absolute plot threatens that cycle of birth and death, of souls arriving and departing. But how, exactly, is the mind flayer plot a threat?

Well, for one, if everyone with a tadpole turns into an illithid (which doesn't have an apostolic soul, Withers is adamant about this), and then all the illithids kill all the non-illithids...who is making new babies with apostolic souls? And if there are no new fresh souls, eventually the deities will just also die out, since no one will be left to believe in them and thus their powers will diminish and eventually fade. It might take a few hundred years, but it still spells death for everyone involved.

The irony here is that it means the Dead Three gambled and lost even if their plan to ascend a Netherbrain ends with a success, such as when Tav or Durge decides to dominate the world by controlling the Netherbrain. Either the brain is destroyed and they lose, or the Netherbrain successfully completes its Grand Design and they really lose, because the only winner here after a thousand years would be the Netherbrain. Thus we have Withers taunting them in the post-epilogue scene by asking if they really thought their ploy would succeed.

Okay...so we know that mind flayers killing everyone on the planet is a bad idea because it means that apostolic souls stop arriving in the Fugue Plane. But what about mind flayers? If they don't have apostolic souls, do they have ANY soul worth eternal currency?

Remember, the only way to create more mind flayers is to tadpole a humanoid creature. Without humanoids, mind flayers can't reproduce. But when humanoids turn into mind flayers, they allegedly lose their souls. Right?

Withers says souls "vanish" when the body turns into a mind flayer. But this is vague, and thus allows for a few different theories. Perhaps souls move on to the Fugue Plane while the person-turned-mind-flayer continues existing on the Material Plane. Perhaps the soul just becomes obscured and unrecognizable by the gods. Or perhaps the soul really does go poof and is replaced by something else entirely.

So which is it? Well...first of all, let's set the record straight on mind flayer souls.

Do mind flayers have souls?

The short answer is...yes. They just don't have apostolic souls.

According to Volo's Guide to Monsters (page 80 for those looking through their copies at home):

Illithids acknowledge the existence of divine entities, but it is unusual for any but a deviant mind flayer to actively worship such a power. Since they are capable of planar travel, illithids don't view the afterlife and the Outer Planes in the mythic way that most other races do. Illithids don't believe they possess souls whose eternal fate is governed by the gods. Instead, when a mind flayer's brain is returned to the elder brain to be consumed, the creature's intelligence lives on. Only if an illithid's brain isn't retrieved after death would its consciousness be cast into oblivion.

And on page 72:

An elder brain has a perfect recollection of its race's history. Consequently, it views itself as both a refugee and a victim, forced into hiding by barbaric monsters. An elder brain also sees itself as a savior of the mind flayer race and a living memorial that preserves the memories of the mind flayers' prey. By its twisted logic, humanoids whose brains are devoured by the colony are rendered immortal, their memories preserved forever in the elder brain's labyrinthine mind. When a mind flayer grows old, becomes infirm, or is previously injured, the elder brain absorbs it—another form of immortality, as the mind flayer's mind dwells within the hive mind forever after.

So essentially, mind flayers do have a soul, but because they are a) not humanoid but are aberrations from another plane, and b) not faithful to the deities of Faerûn, their souls are not recognized by the gods. The souls might not even journey to the Fugue Plane when they die. Instead, mind flayers give up their consciousness (their memories, especially) to an elder brain to become part of its eternal collective memory.

It's worth noting that Volo's Guide to Monsters puts emphasis on memory and intelligence here, but not necessarily personality. Mind flayers and elder brains do have a kind of personality, because they experience emotions (we'll look at some conversations with the Emperor in Part 2), but their emotional range seems to be a little limited. For example, regarding elder brains:

An elder brain is arrogant, scheming, and power hungry, yet quick to flee or beg for mercy in the face of a powerful foe. It has no conception of joy, sympathy, or charity, but is well acquainted with fear, anger, and curiosity. It is an intellect utterly incapable of empathy or concern for creatures other than itself.

These limited emotions suggest there might be some element of personality here, but it's not exactly the same as a humanoid personality, which would normally be capable of a wider scope of emotional range. We'll talk a lot more about personality and how transforming into a mind flayer alters that part of one's identity (if not their actual soul) more in Part 2, but for now, just know that a mind flayer technically has all the elements usually present in a soul: an animating spirit (memories), intelligence, and personality (emotion).

When mind flayers die, their memories and intelligence are usually consumed by an elder brain, but it's unclear if the personality is too, or if the personality is destroyed. However, if they're not enthralled to an elder brain or if they die and their brain isn't retrieved to give to an elder brain...then their soul is "cast into oblivion."

Being cast into oblivion could mean anything. It could mean that their soul simply wanders around wherever it died, untethered to anything but unable to move on. Or it could mean that their soul simply ceases to exist. No one really knows what happens to it because renegade mind flayers are extremely rare. BG3 has Omeluum and the Emperor, but other than those two, official D&D lore only lists a small handful of other renegades out of millions of mind flayers over time.

So now you're probably thinking, "Well, wait, but is a mind flayer's soul the same soul that a person had before they became a mind flayer?" And the answer to that is complicated.

Let's talk about ceremorphosis

Normally a mind flayer isn't supposed to remember much of its life prior to ceremorphosis. This is partly why mind flayers eat brains, so they can literally absorb the memories of other creatures and make those memories part of the hive mind. But initially, after ceremorphosis, it seems like the the usual animating spirit (memories) of a person gets destroyed or displaced.

The tadpole grows as it devours the humanoid's brain, attaching to the victim's brain stem and becoming its new brain. Over the course of a week, the humanoid body changes form, and a new mind flayer comes into being. The emergent mind flayer often retains a few dim memories from its previous form, but these vague recollections seldom have any bearing on its new life as a brain-eating monster.

So right off the bat, a typical mind flayer loses the memories (perhaps the animating spirit) of the original host, and it's likely that it loses a lot of the initial personality as well (since it seems likely to lose some of the emotional range). Its intelligence is likely altered too, since the tadpole is literally eating brain matter. So this could lead us to believe two things.

First, that ceremorphosis utterly destroys the host's body and the host's soul likely goes to the Fugue Plane because they have basically died. Their brain has been consumed and their body transformed, so in essence they can't be themselves anymore. Instead, a new soul has taken residence inside the mind flayer body, though where this soul comes from is unclear since tadpoles probably don't have souls. The original soul, however, is free to move to the Fugue Plane and beyond.

Or, alternatively, the host's soul is transformed, shedding memories and personality to become a non-apostolic soul that aligns with an elder brain's hive mind somehow. This means that the host's apostolic soul might be destroyed because it's been changed so drastically, but there are some parts of the original soul still left (the lingering memories, for example). This means the host's original soul didn't move on, but is tethered to the mind flayer body and has been changed into something unrecognizable. When the mind flayer dies, the former apostolic-soul-turned-illithid-soul is either consumed by an elder brain or cast into oblivion.

If the first theory is correct, it seems a little odd that the BG3 companions are so concerned about losing their own souls. If it would just be the same as dying, there would still be some desire to avoid the fate of ceremorphosis, but the companions seem incredibly concerned about losing their own autonomy, as if their consciousness will be trapped inside a mind flayer body and their souls forfeit and unable to move on to the Fugue Plane. After all, Withers is in the business of plucking souls out of the Fugue Plane when we inevitably die in the game.

Specifically, Withers can take a body that has been completely turned to ash and resurrect it with True Resurrection, a spell powerful enough to completely restore a body to its former state. However, there is some assumption here that he wouldn't be able to do this with a mind flayer body, thus the push in the game for a cure.

True Resurrection You touch a creature that has been dead for no longer than 200 years and that died for any reason except old age. If the creature's soul is free and willing, the creature is restored to life with all its hit points. This spell closes all wounds, neutralizes any poison, cures all diseases, and lifts any curses affecting the creature when it died. The spell replaces damaged or missing organs and limbs. If the creature was undead, it is restored to its non-undead form. The spell can even provide a new body if the original no longer exists, in which case you must speak the creature's name. The creature then appears in an unoccupied space you choose within 10 feet of you.

In other words, if theory one is correct, and a person simply dies when they become a mind flayer, Withers should technically be able to resurrect them by pulling their soul out of the Fugue Plane and giving them a new body. You'd have a weird mind flayer clone of you running around, but you wouldn't have to worry about ceremorphosis again.

(But then again, we know the game ignores the organ-regrowing properties of True Resurrection for Karlach, too, so the game intentionally limits the capabilities of True Resurrection.)

If theory two is correct, and the lore is extremely unclear about this process if this is the case, then the companions' reactions and dialogues make a bit more sense. They all talk as though turning into a mind flayer means their soul is somehow destroyed. Mind flayers having souls is likely not common knowledge in the universe (certainly no one in the game is arguing that they have souls), so if a person's soul is transformed beyond recognition it could certainly seem like the host's soul got destroyed. Additionally, this would result in a person's consciousness being trapped inside a mind flayer body, so the loss of autonomy would be a terrifying possibility here.

Plus, we know that when a mind flayer dies, the soul they have (whether a brand new soul or an apostolic soul that has been altered) is consumed or thrown into oblivion. So if theory two is correct, there will be no eternal consciousness for you, allegedly (though there's some debate as to how much eternal consciousness you have in the Fugue Plane or the Outer Planes too...)

We don't know which of these theories is correct, and the game sort of slides between these two theories (as we'll see in Part 2). But, and I cannot stress this enough, this lore only applies to normal mind flayers.

BG3 has altered the usual mind flayer tadpoles with Netherese magic such that things get a little wonky. And beyond that, the ultimate tadpole that changes you (or Karlach, or Orpheus) into a mind flayer capable of wielding the Netherstones is a Supreme Tadpole that has been further altered by the Emperor:

The Emperor: I took this one from the nautiloid. I have been nurturing it ever since - priming it for your use. It is not dissimilar to the experience you already had with the previous one. Only this one is much more potent. All you have to do is open your mind to it. Its latent potential will do the rest.

We don't know how the Emperor has been priming this tadpole, but if it came from the nautiloid, then it is imbued with the same Netherese magic as all the other tadpoles. It's not the same as the Astral-touched tadpole (from Act 2), which has been in the Astral Prism for millennia, but it is somehow more powerful, or at least more effective in transforming you into a new kind of mind flayer, one that can think independently of the elder brain.

So now you (or Orpheus, or Karlach) are a new special kind of mind flayer. Does that change anything?

Yes. In fact, it seems to change quite a lot. But this post is already super long, so you'll have to check out Part 2 to see what I mean.

~*~*~

You made it to the end! Gold stars!!!

✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨

I'll link part 2 soon~

Tagging those who wanted an update! @galesdevoteewife @stuffforthestash

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №13

next 14

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Sometimes I use AI for background images. This time, the generation really pleased me, since it perfectly hit what I wanted :D

I get immense pleasure from the fact that my skill is gradually improving! I could never have imagined that I would be able to draw all these folds in clothing and shadows decently. I am especially proud of Dust and Horror 💫

Hah, under the first drawing with "The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms", I wrote that everything would be cute, but here we are: Dust is a lepidopterist, Nightmare can be killed by water, and Cross has fungal spores on his face. Half of the group has been changed by Backrooms in some way (evil laughter of the Creator).

I decided that my experiment with the story from different characters is unreasonable to continue: it is difficult, and the text becomes artificially too long and confusing. Plus, I find it hard to keep track of the English version of the text.

This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

A human suddenly emerged from the nearest room. At first, he seemed not to notice the presence of strangers. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, until Killer waved his hand in greeting (the blade of the knife glinted brightly). The human hesitantly greeted them all in return.

The man's name was Enrico. He was afraid that the group of skeletons was his hallucination. He had been alone on this level for too long. Even with the support of psychologists, whom he was able to contact via the internet, loneliness was killing him. And tactile hunger: he couldn't let go of Cross's hand after the handshake, and the firm claws of Horror made him cry with happiness. Killer kept the conversation going, but didn't come close. Dust and Error kept their distance from Enrico. They were wary of people who wanted to touch them (Nightmare had enough of a cocktail of negative emotions).

Enrico told them everything he knew about the current level. He also offered his new acquaintances a smartphone as a gift. Among the production rooms on the level, there was one that produced electronics, so the gift was not valuable to Enrico. But now the guys didn't have to look for full-fledged computers (thank you, Enrico, you helped me a lot).

Error studied the code of the level. Even after seeing that strange map in the room where Enrico lived, he couldn't accurately say how the entrances and exits worked here. It seemed that the level was carried through the Backroom, seeping through the pores of other levels, capturing a resident if the old one died. Some kind of level-prison for one. But there was also a cosmos here. And that strange planet outside the window.

Dust watched the white dwarf in the viewport for a long time. It seemed unusual to him. Its appearance was more reminiscent of the surface of a plant lamp than the surface of a star. He thought that the solution to the problems could be there.

Nightmare instructed Cross and Horror to accompany Enrico and seize as many goods as possible for their use. The level produced valuable resources for trade, and simply leaving it would be extremely foolish. Especially since, for the faint hope of leaving this place, the man agreed to do anything (Nightmare enjoyed playing on his emotions).

Finally, they stepped out into open space. The magical skeletons coped well with the lack of air (well, they are made of magic, I can't do anything about that). They wrapped Error's threads around Enrico, who remained in a safe spot. The blue magic helped them move forward in turns. The closer they got to the star, the stronger the sense of wrongness grew.

Eventually, they spilled out onto another level (Error, who was loading, confirmed it). Enrico appeared nearby as well. The endless cosmos turned out to be quite limited, despite the infinite number of rooms inside the space station. The star was simply a round hole in space. The light that seeped through the crowns of the trees reflected off the mirror-like surface of the white marble pedestal. From a distance, it looked like a glowing white planet.

It seemed that they had found a way out of level 15. But not an entrance. The hole in space disappeared immediately after they exited it.

Enrico was so happy with the change of scenery that he fainted. The group left him there, taking the blue strings. They didn't need a new member. It was just a deal.

The new level resembled a forest and ruins. Mostly forest, with a smaller portion of ruins. There were so many plants that they grew on top of each other. Some trees had branches so large and old that a layer of fertile soil had formed on them.

As bad gays ventured further, they discovered animals: birds and snakes, a couple of spiders, traces of dogs or wolves. Killer even managed to catch a bright finch for entertainment. But the animal quickly bored him. Cross turned out to be much more interesting.

One of the provocations made Cross stumble. A colorful stream sprayed in his face. The way he squealed in surprise and the intense burning around his eyes amused Killer.

Cross needed help (otherwise he would become useless). Horror rinsed the affected area with Almond Water. The burning subsided, but the bright color remained. Killer found it amusing to compliment the Backroom on the stylish eye shadows. And since they now had smartphones, Cross could start a beauty blog. Or slowly turn into a zombie if it was a special type of cordyceps fungus. The situation seemed to amuse him.

Only Nightmare managed to silence Killer, binding the jester with tentacles and tossing him into the depths of the forest like a bag of trash (if Cross became useless, Nightmare would break Killer's tailbone).

But, it seemed that aside from the inappropriate bright color on the bones, the fungal spores posed no danger. At least that's what Dust said, who accidentally stained one of his butterflies in the liquid.

On this level, as far as they knew, there could be human outposts. This meant that the exits they had explored might be inaccessible to them if they couldn't resolve everything peacefully. Although after interacting with Enrico, their group didn't consider the people in this place too dangerous. The prisoner of level 15 was content that the skeleton group wasn't his hallucination. He paid no attention to anything else. It seemed they had overestimated the danger posed by humans. Perhaps it was worth trying to enter one of the residential areas?

But Error seemed to have spotted a suitable exit.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork

[foone]

One of my few problems with adopting Tumblr as my social media outlet of choice is the way reblogging your own threads to comment on them means you get this slow explosion of longer and longer posts, and all previous versions still exist on your timeline.

This got long, so musings about the differences in how long-text posts work on different social medias and the trouble with writing them on ADHD continued under the cut.

So if you scroll down my Tumblr account after a bunch of writing, you see:

FOONE: A, B, C, D, E

FOONE: A, B, C, D

FOONE: A, B, C

FOONE: A, B

FOONE: A

And this is annoyingly repetitive especially as posts get long. Which is a definite risk, I can type SO FUCKING MUCH.

And you might say "this is easily fixed: posts don't have to be short (this isn't Twitter) so just put all the content in one post", which, no. I have ADHD. Coming back in the room to go "AND ANOTHER THING!" is my modus operandi, you know? I can't think of all the things I want to say and just say them in one place and go "OK DONE" and click a button and let the internet go read it now. I don't know what I am going to say until after I have said it, and especially not what I am going to say next.

And I worry that the way Tumblr compounds your threads in this additive explosion means that the threshold for "this is too much of this punk" is much lower than other social networks, and that's a real worry for someone who writes as much as I do. I am happy to write endlessly for my own entertainment but I don't want to be annoying, and having to repeatedly scroll past multiple copies of my endless threads is going to get old fast.

Also on the subject of "one long post vs many short ones in a thread", splitting a post and continuing in a reply post/reblog has a functional use: it's like a paragraph break, but moreso. So it's good for indicating a break in the thought, to shift focus, or to take a tangent. (and as someone with severe adhd, my brain is 90% tangents)

Anyway I'm thinking I might do something weird like build a private mastodon instance and then set it up to sync threads to Tumblr.

Like, collect a full thread of small posts, turn them into paragraphs, and post that to Tumblr as one big post. It will work better, I think.

Fundamentally the problem I am facing right now is that Twitter is the best site for how my brain works. Individual tweets in a thread are a close approximation for how I think, so writing a long series of tweets is easiest for me. In that format, I can write. I can be creative. I can express myself.

And don't get me wrong: I love Tumblr. This is easily one of my favorite places on the web. But the "big open white page with plenty of room to write" model is not a good fit for my brain. I look at that and I can't get started. If I can get started, I can't finish, because I get bogged down in going back and editing and rewording.

Short small snippets in a row, like IRC or Twitter, prevent those problems. I don't have to think about the whole thing I'm writing, because I don't have room to write that. I just focus on the current line, and once that's done, I move on to the next. Did I misspell something? Could that have been phrased better? Well, too bad. That line is done now, you can only move forward.

Yeah this may not result in a work of literary genius but it at least results in something. I am not a great writer, I'm never going to be a new york times best seller... But I'm not aiming that high. Writing like this, as a series of short snippets and not going back to fix and re-edit them? It's the only way I can write at all. (and if you have ADHD that gets in the way of your writing, I recommend trying it).

I'd rather write in this specific and limited style than not write at all. There's too many ideas in my head, I need to get them out.

Anyway the reason I'm thinking about this now is that this is why I've traditionally been a heavy Twitter user (though let the record show that I have been on Tumblr for longer!). It works for that style of writing, so I could flourish there.

But it's dying. Oh God, is it dying. And I'm having to think about what to do next. Where to "go".

And as an aside, it's always weird how we always phrase these things like migrations. Like people are backing up their bags from site A and getting on a train to site B.

Maybe it's just my ADHD talking, but that's never been how I've used the web. I am in many, many places simultaneously, and have been for a long time.

I'm active, to different degrees, on Tumblr and Twitter and reddit and discord and mastodon and cohost and Facebook and LinkedIn and IRC and email chains and BBSes. The only thing that change if I "move" is how much I focus on one over an another. If I have a shitpost in my head, where do I decide to post it? If I want to talk about something more serious, where do I go?

Obviously with Twitter dying I'm focusing more on other places. I joked to someone on Twitter that I'm currently sharding what used to be my Twitter posts to Tumblr and mastodon: Tumblr gets the shitpostier and transier stuff, mastodon gets the techier stuff. But that may change as I find the right balance going forward.

Or, regarding my "persona Jubilee" post, I might just stop. I have been this Foone for a while, it might be time to stop and rethink.

Anyway, the final wrinkle in this overlong post: I wrote this much on Tumblr, despite all my talking about not being able to do it. I think I'm basically doing this by channeling my "Twitter thread mood" and not going back up and editing. Who knows if that means I've actually managed to overcome my previous inability to just write free-form long content, or if this is just a limited trick that I can't keep up. Time will tell.

[breitweisergallery]

For the BTS Writing Ask: 🖋️❤️😭⁉️

what inspired you to write your WIPs?

Going down a list:

The Idol AU was in part inspired by Jinyoung's actual idol background, but also a question of: what would happen if Yohan had been forced to put someone identical to his brother on trial? Would they still have found their way to each other again? Now with the sequel, we've moved onto the question of: if given no other choice, would Yohan use his father's connections to carry out a plan?

The Vincenzo soulmate AU: what do you do if you die when your soulmate dies, and your soulmate is your arch nemesis?

Most of the Critical Role stuff comes from shooting the shit and hanging out with @crying-cryptids. I like getting the "you're killing me" text/comment every time I come up with something. :D

what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?

Oooooh okay. So. I haven't written it yet BUT. In the idol AU, I have a scene planned where Yohan gifts something huge to Gaon. It is part of his plot and Gaon sees right through him but makes the choice to accept the gift and not comment on it further.

And then. In the bigger Critical Role fic I'm working on, I have this moment in the eighth arc where Caleb has essentially become the leader of the Tombtakers and he grows close with Cree and Jurrell while he's stuck at Soltryce for a while. His friendship with Jurrell ends up being a major thread and I've been planning scenes in my head for their friendship for a while.

what are the biggest challenges writing your WIPs?

Real life. I'm disabled, I'm in grad school, I have chronic migraines and general chronic pain, and sometimes it's impossible to push past the pain and general brain fog to write. Those days suck. :(

what do you do when stuck on a scene?

Okay okay okay welcome to the Took method of getting unstuck.

Step One. Change the font. Not the font of the whole document. Just the last sentence. You're now writing in a new font. Fuck with the font. Make it funky. Make it different. If that doesn't work ->

Step Two. Change how you're writing. Are you on Google Docs? Try writing on Scrivener or Word or Ohwrite or Penzu or right into AO3. The change in scenery might kickstart your brain. If that doesn't work ->

Step Three. Troubleshoot. Why do you feel stuck on the scene? Did you write yourself into a corner? Did you write something and then decide you don't like it BUT it also still makes logistic sense to do that? Welcome to the trash document. On the trash document, post the last few paragraphs. Now write them again. Chances are, you'll find it easier to get the juices flowing now that you've gotten rid of what is likely bothering you. If that doesn't work ->

Step Four. Take a break. Write something else. Write nothing at all. Take a walk. Your brain might just need a break from the project in question.

And there you have Took's Four Ways of Getting Unstuck.

[bagheerita]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats User Subscriptions: 103 Kudos: 6,416 Comment Threads: 1,083 Bookmarks: 1,312 Subscriptions: 692 Word Count: 1,674,954 Hits: 115,408

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  Ever since I was a small child I've made up stories in my head where my favorite characters get to meet each other and go on adventures.

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love my writing playlist on youtube

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 11. editing is basically rereading my own stuff, and I'm the bitch I wrote that for so what's not to love? Though it usually sucks when I get to the end of what's written and have a that can't be it, where's the rest of it? moment, but hopefully if I'm in the mood for it I can add more on❤

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis Um... 🤔😻😭😭😭(i opened another new gdoc when i should be trying to finish something)

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? Like, IRL or in a fic?

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love I have just over 200 bookmarks and they are all fantastic

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  0. I check for new emails multiple times a day.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis @sorchakitty Hi! It's been awhile. 🙂

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  ...Neither? I mean, I prefer canon characters, bc that's why i write fanfic, I'll add in OCs when they're necessary, but I usually prefer trying to find some background canon character I can use instead if possible.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before Um, when I was a kid the three states I never wanted to live in were Florida, California, and Texas. Guess what, my family moved to Texas.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  Usually when I have "free" time I'm wiped out.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings I tend not to have firm headcanons... but in general I really like exploring D/s dynamics and I tend to prefer when the traditionally more masculine/outwardly dominant character is more submissive in the bedroom, though I also write almost all pairs as switch. I think it's a reaction to reading yaoi/BL manga for years.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? Post about Wraith stuff.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 1. the company delayed notifying the bank about my loan, so I don't have to worry about making a payment until next month. 2. I have a new foster kitten who is super cute. 3. I just "bought" an ebook that sounds like it's going to be really good.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  Buy eye drops

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character Sometimes I think John Sheppard is extremely overrated.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? how to skin a deer

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? I'm a sucker for regency/victorian AUs, and I desperately want one with Wraith as main characters. I'm trying to write it, but I'm not very good at the time period appropriate language and mannerisms, for all that I love reading it.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity You need input to create output. If you can't output (and you know, other factors like sleep aren't the issue) try reading or watching something new or different to generate input.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  I've seen the first 5 seasons of Red vs Blue so many times I quote it to myself in all situations.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? Detailed, incisive critique, with citations. 😉 Really, anything where someone quotes a piece of the chapter or mentions specifically what their favorite part was, because I can usually be like "OMG, YES, ME TOO!"

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate Ugh. I think the only character in SGA that I unequivocally hate is Lucius Lavin. 1. Richard Kind is good actor. 2. He's probably not the worst person in the galaxy, underneath the rape-y exterior? 3. He's only in 2 episodes.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? I do not.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  everything is expensive

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  not one that I can think of specifically. I mean other than it being fanfic for SGA, so... maybe I should say moderately mediocre media inspires me lol.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing You really need to work on writing conflict.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? generally dislike, because I like to plan things out, but it can be fun sometimes

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Scylla narrows his eyes in thought. “The name does not sound familiar,” he says. “Though I do not know much about the Fayn or their allies. They were the enemies of the Wraith.”  “Why are you here again?” Toriel asks, even though Dorsey tries to glare him to silence.  “I am familiar with their technology,” Scylla explains with a dryness worthy of McKay at his most withering, “not the individuals themselves.”

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? It was my nickname for my cat, since she was a "house panther" or bagheera + ita. Kipling's racism aside, I adore The Jungle Book and if I don't feel like explaining to you why Kaa is the fucking boss and disney sucks, I usually say Bagheera is my favorite character. Also when I first got into AO3/tumblr I was really into Avengers and Black Panther is my favorite/the literal fucking best avenger, so it was fandom adjacent at the time.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them Um, I was going to say my sister, but she's not on tumblr. so, less personally, I'll say @eos-x and @anonmadsci set up discord servers for Wraith-focused SGA chatting which is probably why I'm still in the same fandom after several years. Thanks!

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them My cat Amun, better known as Bug, often called Old Man.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it That would be literally impossible because like 90% of the fanart I've seem is also my favorite. I love people drawing Todd, and anyone doing fanart for stargate ❤❤

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? I'm pretty flexible about character interpretations but... if character would NOT do that

[varcolax]

@jadenthehybrid

“Mm, thank you,” Jaden preened under Lovell’s attention. It was nice to finally meet someone around here with his acquired tastes. Also it was good to know his sense of style hadn’t diminished after spending more than a year in slavery wearing the equivalent of rags.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lovell du Bellay,” he replied with a warm smile, glancing over the other man with slightly raised brows. “I’m Jaden Harkness. I quite like whoever you’re wearing. There aren’t many people around here that have such particular taste, save for some of the masters. I’m guessing you must be on the higher end of the food chain here?”

“Oh, this thing?” the varcolac grinned and twisted left and right to show the slave his embellished leather jacket. “It’s a Balmain from their twenty-sixteen collection.” Lovell was preening as well, enjoying the praise Jaden was bestowing upon him. The comment about the food chain was delightful. 

“Well, one has got to keep up with appearances. I would never have expected seeing a slave looking so fabulous either. Everyone else here just looks so drab, even the claimed slaves. Your master must take such good care of you. Do you have more? I’d love to see your collection.” 

[indefinitevoid]

bookbinding journal (part 1) 

link to main post

First attempt at bookbinding: “corrina, corrina“ on AO3 by curlymcclain! Thanks a lot for giving me permission to make this and for writing this wonderful fic :))

This is just a record of what I did during the process for future reference and those interested (long post ahead)

Text Formatting

Followed this tutorial by @/ArmoredSuperHeavy: (so helpful; wouldn’t have done anything without it): https://docs.google.com/document/d/11JyVxeRS8yEWgCYrNMUPlNrEbR5AAD3Z2aDP-QXEP3Y/ 

I decided to use 7.75” x 11” paper folded in half, cutting ⅜’’ off the top and bottom edges of normal letter-sized paper. Pretty worth it b/c I needed to trim the edges after binding anyway.

Used Garamond size 11.5 font. Ended up with 84 pages total; I couldn’t reasonably fit it in 72, 80, or 96. Signatures were 20-20-20-24.

Apparently, I spent 595 minutes total editing the original Word document… It was really fun though! (seriously, the first several hours on the word doc, i was the most excited i had been in a while)

Note to future self: be careful with Word’s automatic table of contents and check for accidental new lines at the beginning of pages.

Printing

Turns out, my home printer prints faint text and smears a little.

So, I tested the school printers (yes, I test-printed fanfiction in the school library). The front and back of sheets didn’t line up (shows badly in the header). Fail.

Ended up using our 6-year old discarded black-and-white printer that we dumped at an office, which worked perfectly!

Used 92 brightness 20 lb paper (default). Never realized that printer paper was so see-through, but it’s good for books (yay!).

I was concerned about the paper grain facing the “wrong way”, but didn’t have anything else. I heard that it should be alright since the paper is relatively thin?

Hole Punching

Created a guide with thicker paper, laid on top. Push-pin to poke the holes. Binder clips to keep everything together. Propped the folded pages on an open sketchbook. Worked great, but poked holes into the inside spine of the sketchbook. Whoops.

Holes seemed to move a bit between signatures, not sure why. Mostly gets covered up during stitching though.

I later found out that you can punch holes with the paper face-down on top of corrugated cardboard. Will most definitely be doing this next time.

Text Block Stitching

Used the kettle/link method by Sea Lemon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9O4kFTOEh6k 

Used doubled-up thin white thread and waxed it with a candle.

Bound a bit loose for the first few signatures, but the last one was good. Knots and ends were a bit sloppy (kept sticking into the book). Accidentally hooked up the bottom line of stitches on the outside spine.

Note from the future: this had literally zero impact

Glueing the Spine

Elmer’s Glue + Binder Clips + parchment paper + hardcover book cover & clipboard. No mull.

Glue seeped in a tad bit between signatures, so those pages seemed a bit more “stuck together”.

This is when I realized that this had to be hardcover due to the way I bound it (falls open too easily for paperback).

Endpages

Luckily, I acquired some dark blue paper from the unused-paper-pile in an office. All of the other colors were light and didn’t go well with the planned beige cover, so light-dark contrast here we go.

Interestingly, I think this paper had the grain in both directions, kind of like the texture of canvas cloth up close.

Then, I put more glue on the spine and laid a piece of paper over it.

Trimming Edges

This step got delayed a week due to my inability to acquire a craft knife.

This was definitely the hardest part, since I've never used a paper-cutting knife before (other than 6th grade technology class), let alone on a stack of 46 pages.

Some edges were a bit uneven, but nothing majorly bad happened (that's a win). 

I went back later to fix the worse parts and used a nail file on some weird areas. One is probably not supposed to nail-file paper, but it worked…

The trimmed block of text:

Making the Cover

Used this tutorial from Sea Lemon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Av_rU-yOPd4

I used cardboard from a cereal box because all the other cardboard around was corrugated. And beige cardstock as the "bookcloth" (also taken from the aforementioned office).

Cutting out the cardboard took way longer than it should have, because I kept cutting away from the ruler. Doubled up the cardboard on the spine, which I forgot to include in later calculations, so the cover ended up ~1.5 mm short on width. I glued the covers and spine on a piece of printer paper first in order to have them spaced apart correctly

The beige cardstock was only letter-size, so I had to glue two pieces together with a 7-8 mm overlap. Required some math to figure out where to put the cover title.

Then, I just glued the pieces of cardboard onto the beige paper and folded it up. I was originally worried, since beige cardstock is very different than bookcloth, but it honestly turned out as well as it could have. 

The book cover (not sponsored):

(the white paper around the spine is the printer paper)

Final Glueing

This step was pretty simple, though I forgot the fact that glue is wet, and some moisture seeped into the first/last few pages and made them a bit wavy (this all happened in ten minutes). To remedy this, I put tissues between a bunch of pages and pressed it overnight, which actually worked; the pages are no longer wavy. Downside is that the cover got warped inwards a bit (concave up). 

The next day, I used a hairdryer, which I probably could’ve done before. Then pressed it without anything inside for a few hours and it flattened out. The pages aren’t completely flat, but otherwise, it pretty much looks like a book :D

I also got a lot of guidance on several steps from rerurumo’s bookbinding videos, so thanks to them: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XCvTZRVbgg

More photos:

the unintended seam on the front cover:

the back cover seam:

the thing that my elementary teacher said not to do to books:

some pages:

noo the book isn’t perfectly flat D:

the stack of books used to press down:

alr that’s all for now o_O

[juuls]

Hi Reylo community!

Latest edit: First of all! —I am more than happy to help people who want to give podficcing a try, just send me a message and we can work out details, figure out answers to your questions, etc. I would just love to see more people recording podfics!

It’s easy to be a podficcer; nothing special is needed and I’m happy to provide tips for simple podficcing! In fact I sorta ramble about my process here in this Answered Ask and include 3 basic tutorials.

To the Reylo community at large (writers, artists, readers, lurkers, everyone!): If you could pick one of your, preferably, complete (or at least a fair number of chapters in and being updated) fanfics that you would like to have a podfic made out of... which would it be?

I’d love to create a list of works where authors have given permission to podfic their fics, whether short or long, and to contribute to the new Reylo Podfic Collection!

But I’d love to use this tumblr thread as a.... thought exercises, I suppose, and permission, too, for people to podfic your work.

While I do do podficcing for Marvel... it just makes me want to do so much more Reylo stuff! There’s so few pieces out there compared to the bevy of Marvel stuff, but honestly, every time there’s a new (Reylo) podfic—it breathes new life back into the fic, the author, the ship, the fandom..... plus you personally feel awesome for the performance high and for bringing a smile to the writer’s face. That’s the best thing ever and I adore doing it, no matter how ‘simple’ the podfic may be.

So, AUTHORS, which of your fics would you like to see podficced? Blanket permission for any?

And READERS!!!—which of your favourite fics, short or long, G or T or M or E... would you love to listen to, or think deserves the verbal treatment? :D

Old, new. Canon-Compliant, Modern AU. Canon-Adjacent or Post-Canon. Post-movie Fix-It or forget-the-movie Fix-It. Gen, Teen, Unrated, Mature, or Explicit. A/B/O or Soulmates. Bendemption or Renperor. Senator Ben or Jedi Ben. Fuck-Jakku Rey or Must-Return Rey. Hopeful Rey or Antagonistic Rey. Blocked Force Bond or Open. Good or evil. Take his hand or don’t. Pre-Canon, post-TFA, post-TLJ, or TroS—I don’t know her.

Come one, come any, come all! What would you pick to podfic?

Pod together with us!

I’ll keep the list of approved fics updated if we get enough replies! I do so hope we do! I love Reylo, you love Reylo, who doesn’t want their fic put to voice? And also, let’s breathe some new forms of life into this fandom! Celebrate it with me!

(Sometimes there are already podfics done for a particular fic but you can always 1, welcome another for your own fic, and 2, request of an author to see if you can perform an additional reading of their fic—each podfic is different and special in their own way.)

Do you feel how awesome this could be?

They do.

Blanket permission for any of these user’s fics: *

Nymja

TheOriginalSuki [[“Maybe skip the Welsh epitaphs, ha!”]]

Politicalmamaduck [[Tall Tales of the Western Wilds has previously been podficced by @luminoustico and @quickficradio 🧡!]]

Perry_Downing [[Devotion has already been podficced, and Powerless, Thwarted, He Knows, and Unbidden claimed.]]

Crossingwinter

EllieCarina [[In My Bloodstream has been claimed.]]

DragonWhiskers [[any completed works]]

PalenDrome (nerdherderette) [[any and all fics, ships, fandoms]]

🌟

Podfics welcome for specific fics (permission given): *

Delicious Ambiguity by Juulna (~24.8k)

Shadowed by Juulna (~5.6k)

Little Earthquakes by LochTayBoatSong (~5.3k)

the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you by LochTayBoatSong (~36.1k)

Asking Price by SouthsideStory and ReyloTrashCompactor (~33.2k, 13/15 chapters)

Things Not Seen by SouthSideStory (~13.8k)

Chains by Veggieheist @veggieheist (~295.5k, 67/? chapters) [[contact author as they wish to re-edit the beginning of the fic]]

Dream House by sleepyowlet @sleepyowlet (~11k) [[“I read it out loud to myself and because I wrote it with the Dreamlands cycle as background noise, it has the same kind of feel to it. You just need to find a podficcer who can read consentacles without cracking up.”]]

Camera Shy by Sophia Ravencrest @sophiaravencrest (~23.8k)

Blades Crossed by the-reylo-void @the-reylo-void (~27.1k)

enemies-to-lovers by the-reylo-void (~59.6k) **

Within Monsters by AnonymousMink (~132.6k)

Hiraeth by TheOriginalSuki @theoriginalsuki (~47.9k)

Blood is Thicker Than Whatever This Is... by DragonWhiskers @belovedunderwing (~1.5k)

Siren’s Song by DragonWhiskers (~22.5k)

✨

Specific fics we’d love to see in podfic form and currently awaiting permission from their authors: [[fics granted permission moved to ‘Podfics Welcome’ list]]

Ashes of the Empire by Skyelo_Ren @dancingpenguin57 (~128.4k)

The Moon, the Sun, and the Star Inbetween. by Silvershine @silvershiner (~120.1k)

can’t turn off what turns me on by audreyii_fic @audreyii-fic (~26.1k)

Tactical Surrender by destinies @destiniesfic (~155.8k)

🌙

Claimed with permission:

landscape with a blur of conquerors by diasterisms @kylorenvevo (~362.9k) and To Kingdom Come (~145.7k) [[claimed by @isitcoolthatisaidallthat18]]

In My Bloodstream by EllieCarina @jackpotgirl (~103k) [[Claimed by @juuls — awaiting pre-production edits, recording will begin, soon followed by posting, in a handful of months]]

connected in the deep and Split Soul by Juulna (~2.5k and ~1.3k each) [[short ficlets currently claimed for practice by @lochtayboatsong]]

Powerless by Perry_Downing @perrydowning (~213k) [[claimed by @juuls and will begin work on it in early- to mid-January]]

Sky Marked Souls by AnonymousMink @anonymousmink (~22.3k) [[claimed by @isitcoolthatisaidallthat18]]

Thwarted (~358k), He Knows He Needs To Stop (~140.5k) and Unbidden by Perry_Downing (~183.8k) @perrydowning [[claimed by @isitcoolthatisaidallthat18]]

* “Please claim” even if just replying to this post or sending me an Ask or DM so I can edit the post. Mutiple podfics are flattering to the author but some podficcers really don’t like to be ‘one of many’. Absolutely valid. You can even create a placeholder AO3 ‘podfic’ and link it as inspired by said fic, so people can see that it’s being worked on... as long as permission has been granted first, or course, sillies! :)

** Although an unconventional fic format, this fic can certainly be podficced by using (1) different tones of voice for thoughts, fic summaries, different sorts of text, and/or (2) different tones of pings/chimes/whatever for the text messages from different characters, and/or (3) adding in an extra line of, for example: *ping* “text message from thekyloren reads as follows…” OR (4), if you want to get fancy, you could have some friends assist you by recording any of the messages from ‘their’ character. That would be a lot of fun, in fact! Another option is (5) where you would split your recordings and give an audible indication to read the message, followed again by a new audio file, etc. Only problem with this approach is if there are too many breaks in the audio and you end up going from one to the other too many times in a row.

💫

And please, reblog and spread the word for this project! No project can operate by its lonesome; it needs help from the community it belongs to. ❤️ Here’s another link to the Reylo Podfics Collection!

Thank you so much!

[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

[apolloloki97]

“Still Family” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

IMAGE CREDIT: Cliff Lipson/SHOWTIME

Summary:  After Mickey is released from prison, Ian is still with Trevor. However, when Ian has a full meltdown and refuses to take his meds, Lip makes a call and gets Mickey to help sort out his younger brother. How will Trevor react to meeting the man that Ian once devoted his life to? ---- Or when Ian won't take his meds and Mickey shows up to get his ass in line.

Word Count: 2558

Warning: Bipolar, Swearing, Violence

Song I Wrote To: “I Don’t Like You” by Grace Vanderwaal

Note: I had this idea and couldn't get it out of my mind. I am a massive sucker for outside POV Gallavich so I hope you enjoy it! I have a lot of Gallavich ideas and I'm just going to keep posting them whenever I have time! 

-------

Ian had been going through a lot since his diagnosis.

Well, a lot was an understanding when it came to the Gallagher house. His older and younger siblings tried to do everything they could to help Ian with his bipolar episodes, but it wasn’t always so simple.

Fiona wanted to get Ian back into the hospital, but Lip was against it, afraid it would only make things worse. Debbie was blaming herself for not keeping a better eye on her big brother while Carl and Liam were a bit clueless when it came to their brother’s illness.

Then, there was Ian’s boyfriend, Trevor. Trevor was used to dealing with a lot of chaotic things with his job as a social worker, but Ian Gallagher was as chaotic as it came and not just because of his illness. Ian’s life was an entire circus in itself. However, he had come to really care about the ringmaster and the many acts that floated in and out of 2119 South Wallace. Still, there were still things that Trevor was finding out about his boyfriend and especially his boyfriend’s past.

Mickey Milkovich was the largest part of Ian that Trevor had yet to understand.

He knew a few things about the Southsider, but nobody seemed to want to talk about the man, especially around Ian. Trevor knew that Mickey had been someone incredibly important to Ian, especially during the beginning phase of his illness. Trevor had been surprised to hear that it was Mickey who had convinced Ian to seek treatment after the latter had run off with the former’s baby.

Around the Gallagher house, Milkovich seemed to be some sort of Saint in ways. When Ian wasn’t around, Trevor heard Fiona and Debbie talking about the ex-boyfriend as if he was still a constant fixture in their lives. Carl would make comments about how much he missed the gun-toting asshole and even Liam would mention Mickey and Mickey’s sister, Mandy, and how much he missed them when the bullies were getting more relentless at school.

Lip was one of the only ones that tried to not speak about Ian’s former flame around Trevor, but even the eldest Gallagher brother slipped up at times. It was actually from Lip that Trevor learned the most about the tatted thug. One evening, Lip had let it slip how Milkovich had come out after his son’s christening. Trevor was shocked to hear how public he had made it but was not surprised to hear how his homophobic father had reacted. Even if you weren’t from the Southside, everyone knew Terry Milkovich and how much of an asshole he was.

Still, it remained a surprise every time Trevor learned something new about Mickey. The latest was that he was recently released from prison and was out on parole. Trevor and Ian had found out a few days before when Mickey’s parole officer had shown up at the house to speak to Ian about Mickey’s former work ethic at the Kash and Grab. Trevor had never seen Ian’s eyes light up the way they did when he spoke about Milkovich. Even when he was just describing how Mickey would help stop the neighborhood kids from stealing Snickers bars, it looked as if Ian was talking about a work of art rather than a street thug.

Trevor was worried that Ian would break down again after the return of Mickey, but he seemed to be taking it rather well. Well, that is until a panic attack had taken over earlier in the evening and Ian had collapsed onto the floor, shaking and gasping for breath.

As soon as it happened, Trevor had yelled for Fiona. Ian was laying in the middle of the hallway, his eyes wide and his hands clawing at the scuffed-up floor. When Trevor had tried to help him up, Ian had shoved away from him, not wanting to be touched.

"Did he take his meds?” Fiona asked. Trevor just shook his head because he didn’t know. Ian had been doing well with his EMT job and he thought that he had been taking the necessary stabilizers for his illness, but Trevor couldn’t be sure.

“He hasn’t taken them for three days,” Debbie announced as she came out of the bathroom holding the orange bottles. “I counted them.”

“Dammit, Ian,” Fiona sighed as she tried to reach for her brother. Ian, however, wanted nothing to do with his siblings.

“No! No!” Ian said, backing up from them, pressing himself into the wall behind him.

“Ian, come on,” Fiona said softly.

“Don’t touch me!” Ian yelled back, raising his hands in front of his face in a warning.

“Fi,” Lip said from the other end of the hall. The eldest Gallagher sister looked at him and Lip gestured for everyone to go downstairs. Exiting into the living room, Carl remained at the top of the stairs just so he could see Ian and make sure the ginger didn’t throw himself off the second-story railing. “This is just like that time at the lake,” Lip said.

“What time?” Trevor asked as he glanced up at the second floor.

“It was last year,” Lip said. “Something set him off and Ian went into full shutdown mode. He wasn’t taking his meds and then he just...snapped. He wouldn’t let any of us touch him.”

“What did you do?” Trevor asked and then everyone in the room went silent as the sibling looked at each other. “Guys?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Liam said. “Mickey did.”

“Mickey Milkovich?” Trevor asked and Liam nodded.

“He was the only one who would calm him down,” Debbie explained. “Dammit, I should have noticed that he was starting to spiral.”

“It’s not your fault, Debs,” Lip said, offering his sister a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Well, what did Mickey do that was different?” Trevor asked. “Can’t we just do that?”

“It wasn’t what he did,” Fiona said. “It was because…” she trailed off.

“It was because he’s fucking Mickey,” Carl piped up from above them.

“Maybe we should call him,” Liam offered. “Maybe he could talk to Ian?”

“I already texted him,” Lip said with a sigh.

“You what?” Trevor asked, struck.

“I texted him SOS as soon as I heard Ian yell the first time. He’s on his way,” Lip said. Trevor sighed, collapsing into the armchair in the corner.

“Just like that?” Trevor asked as his hand played with the charm around his neck. Liam just shrugged.

“It’s Ian,” Liam said as if it was obvious.

The yelling upstairs continued and Carl cringed every time he saw his brother throw himself to the ground or grapple for some invisible thread to hold onto. Fiona was pacing as she waited for Mickey to show up. Debbie was holding the pill bottles, staring at them as if they had personally offended her. Trevor hadn’t seen the Gallaghers this rattled before. He also had never seen them so determined to let one of Ian’s ex-boyfriends become the savior of the day.

It was only another ten minutes or so before the front door opened and Fiona stopped pacing. Trevor looked up just as a dark-haired, tattooed, and clearly annoyed man walked in. “Alright, I’m here. What he do now? Steal another fucking baby? Rob a bank?” Mickey asked as he faced the Gallaghers. His eyes landed on Trevor for a second before looking at Fiona.

“He didn’t take his meds,” Debbie said, approaching Mickey with the bottles. Mickey frowned at her as he scratched at his temple with his thumbnail.

“He’s in full-blown shutdown, Mick,” Fiona said. “We can’t touch him and he’s not responding.”

“Ah, so like that fucking time at the lake,” Mickey remembered. Lip nodded and Mickey sighed before glancing up at the second floor as he heard Ian cry out for the first time. Trevor didn’t miss the way Mickey flinched as he heard Ian struggling. There was almost a desperate look at him as he stared upstairs. However, it was gone after a second as Mickey turned back to the Gallaghers. “Did you hold him down and shove the pulls down his throat like you do with a fuckin’ dog?” Mickey asked, slipping back into his usual demeanor.

“No,” Debbie said. “He won’t let us touch him, remember?” Mickey groaned as he snatched the bottles out of Debbie’s hands.

“Fucking Gallaghers,” Mickey said as he trudged up the stairs, passing Carl with a quick ruffle of his hair. Carl didn’t seem to mind as Milkovich moved past him and into the hallway. “Ian Gallagher!” Mickey sang as he disappeared up the stairs.

Trevor and the Gallaghers didn’t move as they listened to what was going on upstairs. Carl had snuck back down the steps to give the men upstairs some privacy, but it didn’t do much considering how loud they were being. Suddenly, there was a loud crash as if someone had been slammed into the wall. The sound of pill bottles crashing to the ground littered the air. “Fuck! Ian, come here!” Mickey yelled.

“What the fuck, Mick!” Ian answered and Trevor was glad to hear him speak rather than just yelling or crying. There were more sounds of fighting before Mickey grunted in pain.

“You son of a bitch!” Mickey shouted. “You’re just fucking lucky I didn’t bring Svet as back up, you fucking carrot top. Stay still!”

“Who’s Svet?” Trevor asked as another banged reverberated from upstairs.

“Mickey’s Russian hooker, ex-wife. Baby momma to his kid,” Lip explained. Trevor didn’t have the opportunity to respond to that when suddenly Mickey shouted again.

“You bite me and I will not hesitate to do it back!” Mickey yelled. “Don’t fucking test me, Gallagher. I know where Carl keeps his handcuffs, fucker!” Another loud crash and Ian grunted in pain.

“Where did you learn to do that!” Ian shouted.

“Cell Block D, bitch! Stay still!” Mickey yelled and then Trevor could hear the sound of pills being scattered on the floor. Debbie was sitting across from him on the floor, rubbing at her temples. “Ian!”

“This is not going well,” Liam said.

“Just give him a second,” Lip said, wringing his hands. Fiona was in the same position as she stared up the stairs, trying to see what was happening. Trevor jumped then as Ian shouted something that clearly wasn't English.

“Where the fuck did you learn Ukrainian?” Mickey said which only made Fiona look at Lip in complete confusion.

“Don’t look at me,” Lip said. “That motherfucker reads too much.”

After a few more minutes of banging and crashing, it was silent. Ian was still grunting, but it sounded more muffled as if someone was covering his mouth. “Ow! Shit!” Mickey suddenly exclaimed. “I fucking warned you, dick!” Ian then cried out in pain after that and then the house shook as if someone had been thrown to the ground again. “Open up now before I break your fucking jaw,” Mickey was said. “Then your EMT ass is gonna have to go all 911 on your own fucking face.”

“Fuck you!” Ian shouted and Fiona slid to the floor, trying not to let the yelling get to her, but it was too late.

“Fuck, Ian, I don’t care if you fucking snort them, just take the goddamn pills so I can go meet my fucking dick of a PO,” Mickey said. “Do you want Debbie to feel like shit for the rest of the day, huh? What about Liam? He’s fucking worried about you, you psycho. Lip had to call me, me, because you wouldn’t let anyone put their goddamn hands on you!”

“Don’t touch me!” Ian said, but it sounded a little less hostile than before and Trevor could tell Ian was getting tired.

“I think we are well past that, asshole,” Mickey said. “You may be mister Army, but I can still fucking take you especially when you’re acting like this. Now, do I gotta go get Iggy and Colin to hold you down so I can shove these down your throat, or are you going to cooperate?”

Trevor looked at Debbie for answers. “Mickey’s brothers,” she explained and Trevor nodded. It was quiet for a moment then, no scuffling, no swearing, just silence. Nobody moved and nobody spoke as they waited for the fighting to start up again.

Eventually, Mickey spoke again. “See, was that so fucking hard?” Mickey said and then it was quiet and everyone strained their ears to listen, but all they could hear was a faint whisper coming from Ian. Mickey then laughed and groaned as he got to his feet, his work boots knocking into the baseboards. “Nah, fuck you, bitch,” Mickey said with a lighthearted chuckle. It was another moment before Mickey jogged back down the stairs, fresh blood blooming from his hand and his face. “Mission accomplished, motherfuckers,” he announced, shaking off some pain in his arm.

“What happened?” Carl asked, gesturing to the blood on Mickey’s hand.

“Oh, bastard bit me,” Mickey said, showing Carl the half-moon wound on his hand. Mickey shrugged, not surprised by the act as Trevor clearly was.

“Did you bite him back?” Debbie asked.

“I fuckin’ warned him,” Mickey said with a nod. Mickey then looked at Trevor. “Who’s this? Another new half-sibling I’ll have to lock in a fuckin’ shipping crate?”

“This is Trevor,” Liam said. “Ian’s boyfriend.” Trevor gave him a quick wave. Mickey just chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second before nodding.

“Right, well good luck,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He took his meds, but I hit him pretty hard. Gonna need something for the headache,” he said to Fiona as he passed her. Fiona reached out and stopped him before he could leave.

“Thank you, Mickey,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, but his tone was soft.

“I mean it,” she said as she looked at him and he could see the worry in her eyes. Fiona always put too much pressure on herself and Mickey had always seen it because he understood. He, too, had spent his childhood looking after his siblings. Always having to make sure Colin and Iggy didn’t get arrested and of course, protecting Mandy from Terry. With a sigh, he pulled her in for a hug. Fiona didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him and tuck her chin against his shoulder.

Mickey wasn’t a hugger except when it came to the damn Gallaghers, and he sometimes needed it more than they did. Mickey then pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping out of her embrace. “Hey,” he said, getting her attention, “you’re still family to me. No matter what.”

Fiona smiled then. “Family,” she agreed.

“Alright, enough of this soft shit,” Mickey said. “Later Gallaghers!” Mickey moved past Fiona and rubbed Liam’s head before grabbing Lip’s hand as the latter thanked Milkovich. Mickey played it off, but he knew Lip was being sincere.

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Fiona ran upstairs to go help Ian. Trevor, who had been watching the entire thing with a whole lot of questions could only think of one thing to say. “So, that was Mickey,” he said. All the Gallaghers nodded.

“That was Mickey,” they chorused as the circus finally closed its curtains.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part four

Knowing what Harry wanted was a relief. It made you sleep better, even that first night after you drove home and reported back to Lexi over dinner. 

Sure--the stakes were now higher in a sense, right? You were going through with it. Something about that felt completely surreal and still somehow impossible, but deep inside of you, buried beneath the fear and the doubt, was a tiny speck of hope. And it was decidedly apple-seed shaped. 

When you were five or six, you insisted on pushing your dolls around in a carriage, so much so that you refused one day to go to kindergarten without them. Your mother had you all buckled in the car, your doll beside you and the toy-sized stroller folded in the trunk. 

It had always been something you wanted, something you saw in your future--but you’d always thought that it would be in a different order. In fleeting moments, when you made your peace with that, the hope managed to fight it’s way through all of the other feelings, letting you know that it was there and real and maybe things would work out okay. 

The reality was this: you were pregnant. You’d decided that you were going to have the baby. Harry seemed involved enough at this stage, and frankly, you were fine enough for now to just push any other thought out of your head. 

Where would you live? Where would he live? How often would he see the baby? Would you even have full custody or were you making a terrible assumption? Would he be on tour when you went into labor?

There were a thousand questions that tried to keep you up at night, but apparently growing a human took enough out of you that you fell asleep easily these days. And Harry had warned you it was coming--a quick text to give you a heads up. 

310-324-9090 (8:24am): Spoke with Jeff some more last night after I got home. He thinks it’s best if we have a meeting with some of my team. Can you call me later and I’ll give you some details?

You did as he asked--stepped out on your lunch break and spoke to him in the courtyard, careful to keep your voice quiet. 

It wasn’t that people at work were nosy--it was more that a random Facebook employee getting knocked up by a famous musician was sure to be a good headline that someone would be killing to write if they got wind. So for now, you tried your best to speak in code. 

“They want to have a meeting. Just to talk about some logistics and privacy things and whatnot.” He made it sound so casual.

“The logistics of the current situation?” 

He sounded a bit confused. “Of you being pregnant with my baby--yes.”

“This feels like something I would need a lawyer for.”

“You don’t need a lawyer.”

“Aren’t you the opposing side? Isn’t this going to become some weird negotiation around what I can and can’t do with your--you know.”

“I don’t know…”

“Your baby,” you whispered the word quietly, a hand over your mouth to be safe. “Who is mine, too, by the way.”

“Y/N--this is just a meeting, okay? There’s a few things for you to sign--basically just saying that you’re not going to sue me or try to blackmail me.”

Glenne had mentioned that. She threw back another margarita that night in your kitchen and said you’d have to sign an NDA. It’s just something a bunch of people sign, confidentiality, basically. You’ll be fine.

It made sense. Jeff wanted to be sure you wouldn’t sell your story or try to cash in on the undoubtedly pricey offspring you were producing--that’s what Lexi had joked about. Can you imagine how much someone would pay for his baby? 

You reminded her that it was yours, too. She threw her head back and laughed, yeah, but his DNA would make it more expensive--like a purebred. 

And this was the easy phase, after all--that’s what your mom had told you on the phone when you told her you’d be keeping it. Things were still normal. You weren’t showing, you had no symptoms. Other than the apple-seed growth in your uterus, everything was still completely normal. For now. 

You agreed to meet Harry on Saturday afternoon--some office building in Westwood that felt eerily empty on the weekend. Hallways that all looked the same, meeting rooms and conference tables stared back at you. 

He’d met you in the lobby, offered a quick hug when you walked in from the fresh air. He took you up in an elevator, fourth floor, second room down on the left. 

Jeff was inside with a few others, a small smile when you walked in behind Harry, clad in a graphic tee. 

“Hey,” he said, standing and rounding the table to give you a hug. “How are you feeling?”

You could hear the guilt that laced his voice. “Good--I’m fine.”

“I’m, uh--I’m sorry about the other night. I was just--you know, kind of freaked.”

Harry let out a quick laugh, sarcasm threaded through his words. “We were doing totally fine--not freaked out at all.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, sat back down and introduced you to the other faces in the room. Lola, Harry’s publicist, John, a PR guy from his label, Dave, a lawyer. His assistant, Emma, a small smile on her face when you made eye contact. 

You turned to Harry quickly--he sat on the other side of the table beside Jeff, fumbled with the top of his water bottle. He said you didn’t need a lawyer--but for some reason, he had one.

That’s when the anxiety kicked in--the swirling questions of what they all thought. They offered smiles when Jeff began talking and you did your best to wipe the sweat from your hands every few seconds on your pants. 

“So--obviously, this is big news for everyone here--uh, we wanted to have this meeting, really, to just get a few things agreed upon.”

You nodded, watched Harry for a second until he looked at you. 

Dave spoke now--black rimmed glasses sat atop his nose. You wondered what his life was like. A lawyer for top musicians? He probably drove a Tesla, too.“We have to have you sign something, Y/N--just saying that you won’t discuss any of this with the press. It includes no social media posting, no interviews, limited disclosure to friends and family.” 

Another nod--that was a given, and it seemed to be for your own protection, too. Lexi had brought it up first. What happens when people find out he’s the father?

“We don’t expect you to hide the pregnancy altogether--to be clear. But for now, the parentage needs to be confidential.”

“Okay,” you said. “But not like, with everyone, right?” Maybe it was a dumb question. “I already told my mom.”

“No--your mom is fine.” Harry answered the question for them, which is when you realized that you were the only one on your side of the table. They sat in a line, the five of them elbow to elbow, their team and against yours. 

The only problem was that right now, no one was on your team. 

“How much did you tell her?” Dave’s head tilted like you’d said the wrong thing.

“Just a little--she knows it’s his,” your eyes went back up to Harry’s now. He held your gaze for a minute, looked over to Dave and cleared his throat. 

“That’s fine,” Harry said.

The look on Dave’s face told you otherwise. “We need to keep the number of people who know to a minimum.”

“Well I certainly don’t expect her to not tell her mother,” Harry retorted, anger more present in his voice than before. You shrunk in your chair, feeling incredibly isolated as they sat across from you.

“Who does know?” Jeff leaned in, hoping to ease the tension between Harry and Dave--a welcome distraction when he looked towards you.

“Aside from people in this room, my mom, Lexi, Glenne--and my doctor, but, I think she’ll be fine.”

Dave started writing on the notepad in front of him. “I can draw up non-disclosures for them, too.”

Emma sipped at her water--you peered past her out the window. It was sunny--a good day for anything but this. 

“So--we can move to the financial aspect,” Dave put his pen down and thumbed through some papers. “I know this is always the worst part, but--has to be done.”

You looked around the room, still feeling a step behind the others, confused. You watched as Harry twisted his hands together, stared down at them on the table. It felt like no one even wanted to make eye contact with you, like you were somehow wearing a scarlet letter. 

“This agreement details the child support he’ll pay. Monthly until the child turns eighteen. Visiting rights, partial custody if he so chooses. If you sign, it means you agree to the terms and conditions and will hereby agree to share custody, barring any legal changes, of course. Anything you don’t agree to will be settled in arbitration, along with any changes to the agreements set forth here.”

He pushed a packet across the table, the paper was crisp and thick, stapled in the top left corner. 

You looked up at him. “Do I get time to read it over?”

“Of course,” Jeff spoke quickly. “We’ll need it either way by Monday. 

You tried not to roll your eyes. A whole two days. You swallowed, nodded, ignored the pen that Dave flipped over in his hand, apparently hoping you’d agree to sign now. 

“We also have this,” he said, lifting another packet of papers from the stack in front of him. “We’d like a paternity test. This can be completed after seven weeks gestation. The previous agreements and contracts will become null and void if the paternity test proves Mr. Styles is not the father. That’s all detailed in here, though.”

There was a heat on your cheeks, one that felt like it threatened to bring tears. You stared down at the paper already in front of you, words like custodial and proprietary suddenly left your mouth feeling dry.

You didn’t have a chance to respond, Dave slid more papers towards you, this time the pen came with them. “We need you to sign the agreement to DNA testing for paternity confirmation and the basic non-disclosure today.”

You looked up at Harry--he watched as Dave fumbled through more papers, seeing if there was another dotted line for you to put your name on. Jeff stared at the glass of water in front of him, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t his friend, someone who came to his birthday parties or texted memes to his girlfriend.

“I need a minute,” you said, voice hoarse and unsteady. You pushed back from the table, turned and headed for the door without a response from anyone in the room. 

“You can have time with the other documents, it’s just the paternity testing we need signed,” Dave’s voice faded when you got to the hallway, you counted the stripes on the carpet as you put more distance between you and your side of the conference table. The hallways were a maze, more rooms and tables and rolling office chairs that didn’t help calm your nerves. 

There were footsteps behind yours--Harry’s, no doubt--but you kept moving, the end of the hallway was in sight, a door to a balcony, fresh air, a moment to breathe. 

He was right behind you when you pushed it open, the cool metal of the door was prickly on your skin, hot and flushed. You squinted in the sun, he was quiet for a moment, the door shut. 

“M’sorry,” he said after a second. You looked down at the cars that were parked on the streets below, people on sidewalks, a breeze from the ocean. “We have to do that--they’d never just believe it was mine without the actual proof.”

You turned around to face him. “Feels kind of shitty, though. They’ll think I’m lying until I can prove that I’m not.”

He rolled his eyes a bit. “Well people lie, Y/N! You might not be crazy but people out there are--so we have to just, I don’t know, they have to take precautions.”

“This isn’t just happening to you, Harry! I know that’s all that they care about--all that Jeff cares about right now--but this is happening to me, too! This is changing my life, too. You’re not the only one with a career and a family and a life.”

“I know!” He said, looking up to the sky as if it were the hundredth time you said it. “I know it is--I’m doing the best I can, okay? I need to know for sure that it’s mine, too, okay? I trust you, I do--but I have to know for sure.”

“Right--cause somehow this is my fault and it all falls on me at the end of the day, right?”

“I never said that,” he said, more hushed now.

“Well, this is on you, too. You’re the father and if I have to take a fucking paternity test I will but--you’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last, like, year.”

His eyes went a bit wide at that--you let out an annoyed laugh and turned back to the view, wishing you were home, beneath the tree in your mom’s backyard in Santa Paula. A good book and a sense of calm, something that felt all too fleeting these days. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on his face, crossed your arms over your chest when you turned back to see him again. “So--there’s literally no chance it’s anyone else’s.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth still lifted toward the sky. 

“What? What are you smiling for?”

“Dunno,” he laughed a little. “Just--I kind of thought you left that night because you were seeing someone or something like that.”

“What? No--I haven’t--I had a boyfriend a while ago but we broke up.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugged, dropped your gaze for a moment. “Well, when I met you in the fall at that dinner--I don’t know, I asked Glenne about you and she said you were kind of,” he glanced back up at you, “unavailable. Or, you were dealing with something. So I figured when you left and never called it just--had to do with him.” 

You thought back to that first night in October, long before the sex and the sneaking out. Sushi and drinks and butterflies when he walked in to the restaurant. You always knew that they knew him--heard his name and heard his songs on the radio. You’d seen him from afar once, a party at Jeff’s old house, you were on your way out when he strolled in, sometime in 2017, hugging other people and shaking hands with beautiful women. You never even thought he noticed you until you found yourself drunk on his couch two years later.

You knew why Glenne said it. You’d ended a relationship in the spring of 2018 and it took you all summer to even want to go out again. Lexi would beg and plead and apparently, a celebration in Glenne’s honor was what it took in the fall for you to finally put on a pair of heels and have a few drinks. 

“I wasn’t unavailable--I just--I don’t know, her and Lexi can be protective.”

He nodded, quiet for a minute when he looked out over the hills in the distance. 

Your break up was tough, not so much about losing him, but losing the vision you had. There were plenty of red flags--so big that even Lexi could pick up on them. But you brushed it off, pretended like it didn’t matter that he was unreliable and immature. When you finally had enough, you were more upset about the fact that it threw you off course. 

What am I supposed to do, now? You’d asked Lexi in the living room, crying on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. How am I supposed to get married at 27 and have a baby at 29 if he’s not the one?

He wasn’t--he was far from it. Lexi poured more wine and said she’d order you a vibrator on Amazon. He’s a fucking dickface, dude, you’ll meet someone else. And fuck that timeline. It’s bullshit. 

Maybe it was a gust of wind or the thoughts of how terribly off track this put you, more tears in your eyes when you sighed. 

“I’m sorry you have to sign all this shit.”

You bit at your lip, a tiny thud in your chest when his eyes met yours. 

“S’not how it should typically be and that’s because of me--or my job, at least.”

You nodded. He was right. If this was anyone else it’d be a lot easier. A lot less paperwork, a lot less questions. 

“Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Right now?”

“Well,” he looked over his shoulder--Jeff was down the hall, his figure blurred through the glass. “You probably have to sign at least the NDA if you want them to let you out of the building. But--after that.”

You took a deep breath, wishing you could ignore the guilt that sat on your shoulders. He shouldn’t have spend time with you. You didn’t want him to feel tied down, trapped, you didn’t want to be the ball and chain that would inevitably be blamed for changing his life and ruining his career. 

“No, no, we don’t have to, I should go home.”

“It’s Saturday,” he said. “What do you have to do?”

You didn’t expect his question--or pushback at all, really. “I have to clean. I have to organize stuff.”

“Stuff?” A smirk on his face told you he was on to you. 

“You don’t have to take me to dinner. We don’t have to pretend like we’re friends.”

He watched you for a second, his eyes scanning your face as if he didn’t know what to say. He pushed his lips out in thought and then scratched at the back of his neck. 

“Am I at least allowed to get to know you? If you’re having my baby--if we’re doing this--you’re kind of stuck with me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to backtrack. 

“However you meant it--I still want to take you to dinner.”

“Fine,” you said, heat on your cheeks when he smiled, eyes crinkling by the side. “But I have some things to sign first.”

“Right,” he nodded, a stifled laugh under his breath. He turned around and grabbed the door, gesturing for you to head back inside. “After you.”

**

Another burger, this time, hold the pickles. He teased you at the drive through window that you’d be keeping them in business alone for the next nine months, you parked this time near a beach north of Santa Monica. 

“You said I didn’t need a lawyer,” you didn’t look at him, focused instead on the half-eaten burger in your hands before you took another bite. “Feels like I do.”

He looked over at you and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I mean--I didn’t want to freak you out. You don’t need one. You could have someone read over the papers for you. Do you have one?”

You racked through your brain. Maybe Simone would be your best bet, you could bring them into work on Monday and let her give it a read, but, then again, there was no way Dave and Jeff would let you tell another person before the paternity test results came in. 

You shook your head. “Lexi watches a lot of Law & Order.”

He stifled a laugh, sipped from his soda and adjusted the dark sunglasses perched on his nose. “I don’t think she counts, love, sorry.”

You picked up your own drink and took a swig, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach when he smiled down at you. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I can, uh, I can have Jeff find someone--not Dave--who can read them and you can meet with them, maybe. Go over it all and make sure it makes sense.”

You nodded, a feeling of gratitude swept through you. You offered a small smile of appreciation, another bite of your burger before Harry let out a laugh. 

“See? M’not the enemy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

“Hey, I mean it,” he turned towards you now, the sleeve of french fries on his lap shifted, one fell down to the clean carpet of his car. “I know they’re requiring the test, but, I trust you. And we’re in this together.”

You crumpled up the garbage of your dinner, tossed it in the bag that sat by your feet, suddenly too nervous to sit so close to him in the confines of his car. “Let’s take a walk,” you said, unsure of how to respond to his words. It was hard to believe him, he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and walked beside you towards the beach, another stark reminder of the difference between your life and his. 

It was obvious again, when the teenager behind the ice cream window at a beach front shop begged for a photo. You took it and prayed she didn’t even remember that you were with him. Hopefully the adrenaline in her system would wipe your face from her memory. 

“This is the most beautiful ice cream cone I’ve ever gotten,” he said, sitting on the bench of a picnic table a decent ways away from the counter where you’d ordered. He twirled it around, inspecting it from all angles when you pulled the straw of your milkshake up to your lips. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen one before,” you teased, reaching for a napkin from his other hand. 

“S’just so perfect looking.” He reached for his phone, lifted his dessert up in front of the setting sun that sprawled over the ocean’s horizon. “Wow--do you see this?” He clicked the button on his phone, his thumb successfully capturing the moment.

You rolled your eyes, took a quick peek around to make sure no one was nearby. He’d already warned you that he couldn’t stay long. Typically only 30 minutes after you take a photo with someone, otherwise people start to show up. 

“I’m sending this to you,” he laughed. “I understand if you want it framed or just as reminder of this beautiful evening.”

He pressed a few buttons and then your screen lit up on the bench in between you. 

He peered down at it, then brought his eyes back up to yours. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he took the first lick of his ice cream. “Ever gonna save my number in your phone?”

You laughed, a bit embarrassed that a part of you had refused to do it. What if one day you woke up and he backed out? Said you were on your own and wrote you a check to never seek him out?

“Yeah, I just--I dunno, it felt weird at first.”

He raised his eyebrows a bit, finally took another lick from his ice cream. “Too personal?”

You laughed, “a bit.”

“Nothing quite as personal as having a baby together, if you ask me.” He took another lick and then dropped your gaze, a small smile on his face when he looked back at the sunset. “M’not going anywhere. Promise.”

**

When Aarav showed up at your desk on Monday morning, you knew you’d fucked up. When Simone showed up only ten minutes later, you knew you’d really fucked up. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I totally forgot it was tonight.”

“You forgot our bi-weekly Monday night bitch session about work was on a Monday night? On the Monday night after we didn’t hang out last week?” Simone tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. Aarav let out a sigh. 

“I’ve been busy, I’ve been so busy.”

“Well are we still on? Simone and I are free as birds, so--we’re waiting on you.”

You looked at your work calendar, pulled up on your screen. Your last meeting was 3pm--then you were supposed to head towards Westwood to meet Harry and Dave and Jeff and probably the other people who had been at the first meeting. 

“Yes, I can--I just, I have to cancel something else. But it’s fine. Not a big deal. That’s on me.”

You picked up your phone and tried to open the message discreetly. Simone pulled up her own and kept talking. “I’ll make us a reservation at Diego’s, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Aarav said, “that’s the place with the good guac, right?”

“Right,” she said, clicking her phone shut and bringing her eyes back to you. “But also--can we talk tonight about how Carson told me he heard Levi mention something about talking with someone at Apple?”

Your eyes went wide. “Shut up--did you actually?”

“I’ll fill you in tonight,” she smiled, taking a step back from your desk and heading for the door of your office. “Over a nice, tall, frozen margarita.”

You leaned back in your chair and groaned, playfully insinuating that waiting that long would be torture. Aarav laughed and picked up a stress ball on your desk. He tossed it in the air once Simone walked away. 

“You alright lately?”

You looked up from your screen, a half written text to Harry was typed out. 

Hey--any chance we can rain check the meeting tonight? I know I have to sign it but something at work

“What?” You looked up at him and clicked your phone to sleep. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seem distracted, or just stressed.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he said, a lilt in his voice like he didn’t quite believe you. 

You mulled it over for a second. You could tell him, you could tell both of them. They were good people and they’d sat through many intolerable staff meetings when Carson tried his best to shit on your team as if he wasn’t everyone’s least favorite coworker. 

You swallowed it down and looked up at him. “All good--just, busy, really. Really hoping that there’s some movement here, soon.”

He knew what you meant--he was the one you’d been most transparent with. 

“I think it’s gonna happen, don’t worry.”

You nodded, let out a sigh, wishing you could tell him that the apple seed in your uterus made things slightly less black and white than just getting a promotion.

And you wished you could have explained that to them that night--especially when they grilled you for not drinking. You shoveled chips and dip into your mouth like it was going out of style--only coming up for air when Simone reminded you about her news. 

“So do you want the scoop on Levi or what?”

“Do not get my hopes up,” you warned her. “I’m not in a good place for getting jerked around.”

Aarav laughed and sipped on his margarita. “Jerk her anyway.”

“I think he had an interview.”

“No he didn’t,” you whined, worried it was either false or too good to be true. You loved Levi. He was funny and talented and he taught the three of you a lot. Plus, he didn’t really care that you’d been working from home a lot more often lately. 

But you’d been hoping he’d leave Facebook for the last eight months. Ever since he told you that he’d certainly recommend you to the higher ups as his replacement. 

“I swear on my life. On Mark Zuckerberg, even. I heard Levi telling Dan from Tech Support about it in the cafeteria the other day.”

Instead of responding, you shoveled in another mouthful of guac, wide eyes when they looked at you for some sort of response. But what were you supposed to say? How were you to supposed to be excited for something that had long been building, moving in that direction, but was now suddenly threatened by a one night stand?

You’d worked at Facebook longer than both Aarav and Simone. Simone came on only a few months after you, but Aarav was a whole year behind. They were also marketing geniuses, Aarav came from a top school in Chicago, Simone from the Bay Area with a degree in New Media and Internet Marketing. Your small team was responsible for digital promotions, those run online or in commercials. As the team’s Visual Designer, you worked closely with the rest of them to bring their ideas to the screen, however that looked.

So when the Team Lead, Levi, had started making mentions about heading to a new job, he casually tried to gauge your interest over coffee in the first floor cafe. 

But this was shitty timing. How were you supposed to take maternity leave in the first few months in a new job? Would someone fill your spot while you were gone? The questions that started to race through your mind felt overwhelming, so much so that you wished you could reach for the margarita in Aarav’s hand. 

But you didn’t. And you bit your tongue when they asked you again why you weren’t drinking. You didn’t tell them, though you wanted to, that the reason you had to miss work in the afternoon the next day was because you had to sign an NDA, agreeing to keep them and others in the dark about what was sure to be the most wild adventure yet. 

And when you hugged them goodbye in the parking lot, you blinked back tears, hoping that one day, they’d know the truth. 

**

You sent the documents to your mom. She was far from a lawyer, but she was likely the safest option you had. Lexi tried to grab them when you left them on the counter, push some sunglasses on her face and read the biggest words she saw in a posh Transatlantic accent. Both individuals agree that any proceedings will be confidential, she giggled and pretended to rip it up, collapsing on the sofa beside you to watch Netflix before bed. 

It didn’t make much more sense to your mother, either, she sighed over FaceTime and apologized for not being able to help. That was your cue to text Harry. Is there actually someone I could meet with to go over these papers? Aside from Dave?

He set it up--claimed that Jeff found someone easily and then two days later, a woman with short blonde hair stood on your front step, Jeff in tow. 

She sat at your small dining room table--one your mom had tucked away in the basement when you were little--the perfect spot for arts and crafts. You prayed, while your blonde-haired lawyer looked over all the words on the endless pages, that she didn’t notice the paint splotches or pools of glitter that had long been stuck on the dark, stained wood.

You sat there for hours, Lexi came and left twice in the time that the three of you huddled around the papers, Jeff with a baseball cap on as he told you about why these things were important. Rita--who you learned was a connection through Harry’s record label--had already signed an NDA and promised to explain the clauses and constraints in layman's terms. 

So you felt slightly less stupid and insecure walking back into the same conference room Tuesday afternoon, alone on your side of the table. 

Harry was already seated when you arrived, he offered a smile and a nervous scan over your body before you sat across from him. Jeff ended whatever call he’d been on, Dave’s hand immediately extended to receive the manila folder he’d previously sent you home with. 

Another sunny Los Angeles day smiled through the window, Harry’s assistant was nowhere to be seen, the label rep wasn’t there, either. Three against one, this time. 

You didn’t admit it to them, but your hand shook a bit when you reached across the table, handed over the packet of papers that somehow felt like you were giving up freedom, giving up your say in things and like you didn’t even know what you’d now lose. It was all in writing now. You were carrying this baby to term and that was the one thing that would keep Harry in your life, for better or for worse.

The only thing you took solace in was the fact that you had access to Jeff and Glenne, and maybe Rita, now, too. You could ask questions or get clarification over cups of coffee or take out. 

So maybe that explained the calmness in your gut when you sat on top of an exam table in Doctor Weston’s office, Harry pacing nervously in front of you. 

“Can you relax?” You asked, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding for the last few minutes. 

Was it okay for you to say that? You still felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what would tick him off and how to react. The truth was that you were still strangers--he was still someone you didn’t know. Someone who had his own pet peeves and his own fears and anxieties. He’d met you in the parking lot, he was already out of his car when you pulled in beside him the next week and met him after work. 

You’re kind of late, he’d said. A frown on his face when he used sunglasses to shield his eyes. 

You’d been in a meeting. You left as soon as you could. Now, he still couldn’t shake the nerves after he’d listed off the things that were keeping him up at night.

“I can’t relax,” he retorted, his words charged. He turned on his feet, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I have to figure out a lot of stuff right now. And I’m nervous, okay? This is a big day.” He motioned over to the sonogram machine, a box of purple gloves was tucked alongside it. 

“You’re not the one who has to have someone’s fingers in her--you know.”

He rolled his eyes at that, let out a breathy sigh and sat in the chair against the wall. He clasped his hands together but then looked up at you. You wondered if he thought you looked stupid in the blue and white gown the nurse had left for you on the table. You’d locked him out of the room when you changed, now he smirked up at you. 

“Cute dress.”

“Shut up.”

“S’nice!”

“It’s ratty and old and--not very flattering,” you plucked at the fabric with your fingers, looking back at him when he sighed again. 

“M’sorry--I just--I had a meeting with Jeff today and we decided to push the album back.”

You were quiet, the air in the room felt stiff and cold. Goosebumps on your skin when you swallowed back the thought: it was all your fault. 

“I--”

He cut you off before you could string any words together. “S’fine, Y/N, really. Gives me more time to sit on it and plan some music videos and talk about marketing stuff.”

You would have asked more about it. Asked about the songs or the process or anything in between, but the door opened and Dr. Weston smiled when she stepped into the white-tiled room. 

“Hello, hello, how’s mom feeling?”

The m-word got caught in your throat, color drained from your face when Harry looked between you and the doctor. “Good, right, love?” He stood and took two steps over to you, some sort of instinct in him took over, a hand on your back when he realized how frozen you were. “Headaches, she’s said, a funny taste in your mouth, right?”

You nodded.

Dr. Weston sat on the rolling stool and moved towards the sonogram machine, an apologetic smile for the panic she’d caused in you. “Are the headaches helped by something over the counter? Advil? Tylenol?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Advil. Is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine. Just take the recommended dose, no more than it says on the bottle.”

You and Harry both nodded at that--as if he would remember her advice, too. 

“Alright,” she reached for some gloves and looked up at you, eyes wide. “Ready to lean back? The gel will be cold but it will give us a good look at what’s going on in there. This will be the first of many ultrasounds.”

You did as she told, pushed your bum back on the table and let your back rest flush against it. She was right--the gel was sticky and cool and the probe that came from the machine poked at your stomach. You ignored the nervousness that pooled in your chest when you exposed your skin in the room, that last time Harry had seen you like this, it was dark and his vision was likely blurred by the alcohol. 

“Okay,” Dr. Weston’s voice was calm, she moved along your lower stomach for a few seconds, all eyes were glued to the screen. “So, the big dark circle there in your uterus,” she pointed at the screen and clicked something to capture it. “That’s the lining, there, where it turns to a lighter gray.”

Harry nodded, his lips slightly parted as his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And that, the tiny little thing inside of it--” she adjusted the probe again and pointed to the screen, tugging at the whole machine a bit so you could see it more easily. “That’s your baby.”

Quiet for a second, the first time in a while that your pulse slowed and you felt alone again, even if it was just inside your head. The thoughts slowed, your breathing slowed, and Harry’s hip bumped against your arm when he looked down at you. 

There was a small smile on his face. One that looked genuine but slightly terrified at the same time. He pointed towards the screen, “s’right there, that’s it.”

“I see it,” you nodded.

He tilted his head to the side. “It’s more--like a pea now.”

You laughed a little, immediately bringing levity to the room. “It wasn’t going to be an apple seed forever.”

Dr. Weston smiled, rolled away from the machine when you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Do you want to do a vaginal ultrasound? We can possibly hear the heartbeat that way--obviously less comfortable.”

Harry looked over at you, all you did was nod. She asked you to slide off the hospital shorts you’d tugged on beneath the gown. Harry twisted around to offer privacy, this time, the probe was more uncomfortable and there was a tinge of pink on your cheeks when he turned back to face you, his gaze trailed down to notice Dr. Weston’s hand under the blanket that was now splayed out on your lap.

Quiet for a second, then she smiled. “That sound, the whooshing--that’s the heartbeat. That’s the baby, again,” she pointed. “Right there.”

“Huh,” you said, once again, eyes on the screen and hands clasped over your stomach. Harry looked down at you when Dr. Weston captured the image again. 

“So,” Dr. Weston’s voice was quieter now, she removed the probe and discarded her gloves into the trash. “Still too soon to tell the sex. But--we’ll do another one in about four weeks. If anything changes, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. You can email me on the patient portal or just call the front desk.”

“Okay.”

“I'll print these for you.”

“Can you print two copies, please?”

She nodded, another reminder of how off track things were from the plan. You ignored the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that passed through your veins when she shut the door behind her and left you alone in the room with him. 

You sat up, the paper crumbled beneath you and Harry stood awkwardly in the center of the room. 

“I, uh--I still haven’t told my family.”

You bit at your lip, unsure. Was it because he was ashamed? Embarrassed? Angry? You didn’t ask.

“I want to, I just--I haven’t seen them in a bit. So. I’m supposed to go home for a while next week.”

You nodded. “You should go.”

“It’s supposed to be for, like, six weeks.”

“That’s fine.”

“No--I’m not--I can’t miss whatever happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

He pulled his head back, confused by your words. “I don’t think that’s how pregnancy works.”

You stood from the table and hopped down, suddenly much shorter than you felt before, barefoot on the tile. “Just go.”

He let out a sigh. “I might for a week, but, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you snapped suddenly. “You don’t have to come to every appointment and act like we’re actually--I don’t know, together, or something. We can still live separate lives.”

“I’m not acting like that,” he said, eyebrows pointed inwards now. “I’m just doing what’s right. I’m in this, too, Y/N.”

You turned around, shimmied the shorts down from your hips and held the gown in place. You grabbed for your underwear on the chair beside his, neatly folded in a pile as if your life wasn’t a mess.

“I think you should do it. Tell them in person.” You pulled up the elastic band over your hips, still keeping the gown close to your body. 

He handed you the black shorts you’d been wearing earlier, the gesture didn’t match the tone of his voice. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m not like anything,” you said, one foot in first, then the other. “I just don’t want you to feel trapped in LA with me. I’m fine.”

You dropped the gown now, holding it to your chest when you turned to reach for your bra. He averted his gaze, stared directly at the vagina poster on the wall. “Right.”

You tugged on your bra quickly, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head. “Right what?”

“You’re right. You’re fine. You don’t need me,” a shrug of his shoulders. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to relax.”

“Well I’m sorry that I can’t,” he spoke quickly now, the anger on his face stopped you in your tracks. “But the last thing I need is for you to act like none of this is a big deal.”

You didn’t mean to do it again--you didn’t feel it coming until the tears were already on your cheeks, wet and falling towards the floor. He sighed at that, steadied his own breathing and pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, words broken by the heavy breathing. “It just happens now--I just cry on command.”

He shook his head, watching as you folded the gown neatly on the table, left it there to be discarded by the nurse. “No--I--it’s fine. You can cry as much as you want.”

You turned to look at him, a few breaths to try to steady your pulse. He stepped forward, his arms wrap around your shoulders. You were still for a moment, unsure if you were allowed you let your arms wrap around his waist, or if it would make the crying worse. But you did, and when you did, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“S’alright. I’ll go home for a week. Then I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: longer than usual!!! so excited for all of you to read what’s coming! I hope everyone is staying safe and staying home. I wanted to put this chapter out a bit early since I know everyone is (hopefully) stuck inside. keep all of the messages coming i love chatting with all of you about Harry and Y/N and their little apple seed!!!! 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat  @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey  @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles

[dojae-huh]

rereading the boys' interview for jpn official book https://twitter.com/yunobom/status/1355490962361905158?s=19 + thread of jaedo section https://twitter.com/jaehyunbom__/status/1355493528005177345?s=19 https://twitter.com/jaehyunbom__/status/1355704233019006976?s=19 and the amount of nice moments and words there is on next level hope there will be more such interviews / message exchanges between members (read: jaedo lol) in the future,,,

btw did i miss a post or you never discussed it here? i was looking forward to yours and your anons thoughts on it but i don't remember seeing anything,,,

Another anon

most of jaedo's answers in that "this or that" are the same! similar tastes :D

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

(the first link is broken), Link2, Link3

- Doyoung is very accurate with his words during interviews, he tries to praise any member or song, still, some answers are more personal. “There is a lot to learn from Jaehyun” for example. Firstly, Do means they spend time doing something other than music. Secondly, Do is “I feel the oldest in 127″, while Jae is “I feel younger than I am, I choose to be a golden retriver”. Do used to insist he is the hyung, now he doesn’t. 

- Jae evaded the question about similarities, made it inpersonal.

- Jae about Do’s food of the day resolution. A very specific detail again. One he shouldn’t remember, living on the 10th floor. It’s been 1,5 years of moving to the new dorms. How does he know if Do keeps to his plan or not.

- “Something you can’t win in”. Jae gave a general answer. Do’s speed in memorisation dances comes up often.

- Jaehyun, you lost in soccer, you were the same with high jumps, Do will annihilate you in paintball. 

Overall, the most interesting tidbit is about Jae’s stuborness. That answer was emotional. Jaehyun is more guarded, he normally gives general answers (chooses other members, etc). Doyoung in interviews for magazines sometimes slips into straighforward honesty. Especially when he talks about his character, his views. 

If we compare Jae’s messages to Tae and Do, the second one is more passionate, with a personal praise. Even “Fighting!” is more personal. Taeyong went throught many struggles, he is always overworked, and yet he didn’t get a cheer. For comparison: Do’s words to Tae.

In DoTae interview, Tae talks about himself all the time, heh. I’m his weakness, he is cool, when he takes care of me, etc. Do echoes “I know better” sentiment from JaeDo interview. The difference is that Tae always listens to him (Tae is clever to behave like that), which doesn’t seem to be the case with Jae (as an older person I have wider perspective, bla, bla). 

 TaeDoJae 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 JaeYong

- Jaehyun always answers “I want to go on vacation”, so him choosing music instead tells how much he want to do something with Doyoung. 

- Do oftens says Jeju island and driving around. 

- Tae’s words about Do and Jae’s gaps. Nothing we didn’t know. I start to notice Tae talking about/remembering JaeDo together. This interview is not the best example (only three of them), but keep an eye on it. 

It’s difficult to judge magazine interviews. Double translation with innacuracies, plus a redacted text instead of a video (behaviour, facial expressions, the mood in the room).  

[mhdiaries]

Wave 3 Operetta Diary

July the Twenty-fifth

Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures...if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us - which was clean outta fright - we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “you know who”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay - betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Parish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more that he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected :)

July the Twenty-seventh

How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and were headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short. 

August the First

We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor...who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me - “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ;p

August the Seventh  

I explored the catacombs a little more today. A ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s a passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:

- An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it

- A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High

- Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.

I also found, or I guess I should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like part of the catacombs wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and a big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with you ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.

August the Eighteenth

Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t needed to get some new strings. I ended up at the Maul - they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me - I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars - nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad hanging up there on the wall all by their lonesome. I was just kinda picking a little bit when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play guitar before?”

“Not like you,” she said. 

“Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She’s got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do...hey...I said maybe didn’t I?

August the Twenty-fifth

Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me shad had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monter legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet music.

August the Thirty-first

Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that they sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine. 

[iinfortunii]

rules: code of conduct.

BEGIN.

Before we start, I would like you to have certain things in mind when approaching me ooc. I am very shy and quite awkward, which results in me not being much of a talker; however, I will always try my best to be friendly to whoever wants to approach. I dislike pet names so please do not use them with me unless we are very close. There will be times when I'm just exhausted, so my wording could sound rude/aggressive, to which I apologize in advance -I never mean to hurt people’s feelings. I also reserve the right to interact with WHOEVER I want, and pestering me about it will only get you blocked.

Updates will be made as required.

I. BASIC.

A. This blog is: Selective / Independent / Canon Divergent / NSFW / Mutuals only / Singleship / Mostly iconless / Multiverse / AU, Crossover, OC, and Multimuse friendly / Vaguely affiliated with the OP RP fandom.

B. I am a very slow rper for many reasons —school, family, my ever-fluctuating mood —and I would appreciate it if you refrained from pestering me for replies. In return I offer as much patience as necessary. Think of this blog as low activity please.

C. English is not my mother language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes made.

D. I track the tag #iinfortunii, although mentioning me works just as fine.

E. Constructive criticism is always welcome but anon hate will be immediately deleted. I have no problems if you disagree with my portrayal, but it doesn't give you the right to harass me.

F. Mun and muse are both over 18, so there are chances that heavy content will be present; however I won't be writing smut. I can roleplay anything before or after the act if requested, but the moment things get far too explicit, I'll do a fade-to-black. I ask of you to not lie about your age or else you’ll be blocked indefinitely.

G. This is a heavily headcanon-based blog, and changes are likely to be made as more information is revealed about him, though I reserve the right to adjust the new information according to my interpretation of Deuce or simply ignore it, which is why I’m canon divergent.

H. If you'd like to turn an ask into a thread, you can turn it into a new post, or reblog from me, as I won't be using the Tumblr asks anymore due to the problems that come with formatting and such.

I. Ask box is open for everyone ic or ooc, but you aren't allowed to turn it into a thread and nor I will reply to it if we’re not mutuals. Please don't push me, because I won't hesitate to block.

J. No godmoding —only a minor is allowed if it moves a thread forward —or metagaming, please. Don't kill Deuce either, unless plotted beforehand, and most importantly, don't hold your muse back.

K. Discord is available for mutuals upon request.

L. Just because I write something it does not mean I condone it. Please have this in mind and again, do not pester me about it. Any and all nsfw matters will be tagged accordingly. There will be triggering topics present, and you can know more about this on the section below.

M. DO NOT involve me in drama or call-out posts. I’m heavily against both things. On this note, you’ll never see me rebloging a call-out post. This culture is so damaging and toxic, and I firmly believe no one should play the role of the judge for the good of the community just because you had issues with someone or don’t agree with the things they roleplay. Talk things privately, be mature about it, hard-block the person and move on. I am also very aware that a lot of people have done things that can’t be excused, but I like to believe that people can change for the better. If you try to drag me into it, I'll hard block any and all people involved indefinitely.

II. TRIGGERS.

A. They will be tagged as trigger tw, trigger / and trigger cw.

B. I do my best to stay up to date with my mutuals triggers. Your comfort is way more important to me than you might think, so never be hesitant to approach me via IM, (anonymous) ask or stop following me.

C. Triggers that are likely to appear, although some more than others: violence || blood || death || drugs || abuse || knives || body image || medical equipment || suggestive content || etc

D. I have no triggers, so you are free to go wild with your content. I only ask you remember to tag your nsfw (both written and visual), please.

III. INTERACTIONS.

A. Deuce won't like everyone. He might/will make wrong assumptions about your character. He will insult and bite back. He won't always be nice to those he likes. He does many things that serve his interests. You, as the mun, have no reason to take it personal, because I'm won't follow someone I don't like; if you DO take it personal however, and decide to rouse drama, then I'll be hard-blocking you. Goes for me as well —I have no reason to get angry for any of the things noted above.

B. My bonds page displays the relationships that have been built over time, not necessarily through interaction alone but over plotting as well. Refer to it for more information.

C. Interactions with OCs related to canon characters will only take place as long as said OCs have a detailed about page. Personally, I'm not interested in the idea of an OC being blood-related to my portrayal, so I apologize in advance.

D. Formatting isn’t a big thing across my blogs, save for the small text. Please don’t mix either sup/sub with small text when writing with me, as I have eyesight problems. Don’t use colored text either.

E. Non-romantic pre-established relationships are allowed! Just make sure to talk it out with me first, yeah?

01. Spade / Whitebeard pirates (canon and original characters alike that i am MUTUALS with) will have a pre-established relationship as long as the other mun is comfortable with such idea, though that relationship will be limited to merely crewmates, unless discussed otherwise.

F. You don’t need to match my writing length as long as I’m given enough to work with. If something about my reply bothers or doesn’t work with you, let me know and I’ll re-work it.

G. I really enjoy plotting scenarios or talking out about the relationships my muse could have with other muses, so hit me up if you’ve got any ideas! I’ll try to do the same!

H. Mun does not equal muse, so don’t go assuming I’m a jerk simply because Deuce is an asshole from time to time. I’m set on the idea that I’ll give people the same treatment they give me —which is always nice and kind. Kudos to everyone for this ♡

I. I don’t use a threadtracker because I rely on my memory (terrible mistake, I know), but I try to draft people’s replies as soon as I see them. If by any reason it seems like I lost it, then please let me know / send me a link with it and I’ll be deeply grateful.

J. I don’t do nor reply to greetings starters for matters of my own comfort, so I ask of you to never expect a starter or a reply from them.

IV. SHIPPING.

A. Singleship, with the spot taken by daadzi, which means Deuce is no longer open for romantic relationships.

01. Under no circumstances, I will accept more romantic relationships once the spot is taken. That being said, I won’t discourage your muse from falling for / hitting on him, although I ask you to understand he will never respond with the same interest or will never react gently if he’s pushed too far.

02. If my shipping partner is comfortable enough, I'll interact with duplicates with the condition that the relationship is strictly platonic.

B. Constant interaction, mutual interest, and chemistry are a must for the sake of better communication (both ic and ooc, preferably).

C. Please do not approach me if you wish our characters to have either a: one night stand or friends with benefits type of relationships. It won’t work out due to the nature of Deuce’s personality, and for that I apologize.

E. My ship has its own tag so you're free to block it if you don't want to see it on your dashboard. In addition, I'll also tag those posts with only the ship name for this very purpose.

F. Please do not force ships on me.

V. CELEBRATIONS.

A. First off, I am absolutely terrible at keeping up with dates, and to be frank, I am not the biggest fan of celebrating, which is why I think it’s necessary to say I won’t be partaking in any holidays, not even Deuce’s birthday (not that he has one, to begin with). Obviously I will still reply to any gifts received, and will send out things in return —you know, common courtesy.

B. I won't be sending out birthday gifts every year, and I might write drabbles for people once in a blue moon; it doesn’t mean they will be done for the specific date though, so please be patient.

VI. REASONS TO NOT FOLLOW BACK / UNFOLLOW.

A. Too much drama / call-outs / vague posts / sexual content.

B. Content makes me uncomfortable.

C. You are a personal blog without a visible rp sideblog. Please make sure it's easy to find.

D. You do not have a proper tag system.

E. Your blog doesn’t have a rules and about pages.

F. You lack the manners to deal with people respectfully.

G. I have no interest / lost interest.

H. I'm constantly / only used as a meme archive.

I. Other reasons may apply. I will soft block so we can both cease following each other and avoid any potential awkward situations. I won’t make a fuss if you decide to unfollow so I expect the same courtesy.

VII. ABOUT BEATRICE.

She is not a real person. Her concept as Deuce’s (toxic) pseudolover is my creation and was somewhat inspired from the real life Beatrice Portinari. Do have in mind that Deuce doesn’t talk about her so your muse can’t simply approach him and ask about her unless they can go through his memories / read his mind / any capability alike or he speaks about her, though it won't take a genius to figure out that she's a product of his imagination.

You can read about her by clicking here -link to be added.

She serves as a lie to shield himself from the internalized homophobia he deals with up until meeting Ace.

NOTE: As stated previously, Mun =/= muse, but I too have been dealing with compulsory heterosexuality for far too long, so I'd like to apologize in advance for projecting a bit of that into my portrayal. I'll work so that this part makes sense with what we've been given from Ace's novel.

VIII. MISCELLANEOUS.

A. I will never force people to follow me, so if by any reason you have to unfollow/block me, please go ahead. Your comfort matters and have every right to do what you must to ensure your wellbeing. With that said, I will not tolerate and will immediately hard block if you try to police my content.

B. I do not follow back immediately, and it can take me from a few hours to several days to follow back. Do not take it personally if I choose not to.

C. If I follow it’s because I am interested in interacting. I only ask you to be patient because it might take me a while to gather the courage to send something to your inbox or talk to you.

D. I have. ZERO knowledge about medicine. Don’t expect me to go full force and try to be 100% accurate, because I won’t.

E. I practice reblog karma (send a meme to someone if I’m rebloging it from them). If you see something you’d like to reblog but have no intention in sending something yourself, then please reblog from the source.

IX. FINISH.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! As you might have noticed, there’s no password to send. Make sure to check the psa tag for any updates, or don’t hesitate to send an ask if there’s anything unclear! I do my best so as not to post too much OOC posts, but sometimes it just happens. If it's nothing important, then I'll erase it whenever I have the chance/remember.

Keanu Reeves vc: You’re all breathtaking!

[ontochristine]

02.01.21

Two weeks since EK’s birthdate. I had hoped to write this sooner, while things were still fresh, but I’m learning that newborn care takes a lot of attention!

To recap my labor & delivery...

My EDD was 1/29. Up until January’s Kaiser appointments, EK had been measuring a little larger so we all thought he’d come sooner. Then Jan’s appointments showed he was back on track. It was both good and disappointing news. Work picked up after the holidays and my coordinator just started, so I needed the time to catch her up and get things in order. On the flip side, at 37 going on 38 weeks, I was really uncomfortable; sleeping horribly, back hurting, eating endlessly, etc. In other words, I was ready for baby to come out asap. By mid-Jan, DK & I figured baby would come closer to his EDD, whereas before DK figured he’d come around 2 weeks early and I thought he’d come 1 week early.

Fridays became my favorite days of the week while pregnant because 1) end of work week, 2) our takeout day and 3) sleep aid night (sleeping was awful during pregnancy and the sleep aid helped me get one full night of rest). So Friday, I wound down and went to bed between 9-10pm, while DK played DOTA in the second bedroom per usual. Sat am, I woke up with a spreading warmth waist down. I thought at first maybe I had like triple the layer of blankets in that area until I felt the wetness with my hands. Then thought to myself, “Is this my water breaking?” So I started to yell for DK but he was knocked out. I waddled my way to the bathroom, stripped, washed off my body & my PJ pants. At this point, I figured, “Well who knows how urgent this is. I’ll wake up DK after I’ve called Kaiser.” So I call, they advise to come to hospital as soon as possible - but no crazy rush - and I wake up DK, who doesn’t leap to his feet but more annoyed/groggy haha. This man doesn’t like to be woken up anyway. Knowing we have time, I put on makeup (I admit it! I’m vain!), try to figure out how to stop the leaking with the limited pads I have, and start packing last few things into the hospital bag. Then I eat an apple and write Janice’s bday card (whyyy do I irrelevant things during times like this). We finally head out and because of COVID, only I walk into the hospital where I’m seen in the triage area. Since it’s so early (before 8a), the hospital is really quiet and a Korean nurse comes to see me. I count both these things as God’s hand over me :) She chatters on and on about this and that and tells me that DK should definitely bring up snacks and it’ll be a while. So I send DK to Costco and he ends up coming to the hospital around 1p, after I’ve moved to the L&D unit.

The medical staff administered pitocin around 11a (?) and from 11a-4p, we just waited for the contractions to build up. Started a new show called Cobra Kai and ate the popsicles from the hospital. ALSO important to note that I sent DK to buy snacks in the am and then we later found out once Pitocin is in my system, I can’t eat solids until baby is out. I had like 8 popsicles over the course of waiting. Anyway, come 4p, the contractions were painful enough to request the epidural and by then, I started crying from the pain. It was just like the miscarriage contractions. I think the reminder of that mc coupled with the new pain made it an emotional experience for me again. The tears wet my mask, I muffled my gasps bc of the nurses and I was embarrassed, and my mind was just blank from the pain. I don’t know how women deliver without the epidural!! With the epidural hooked up and several tubes and devices on me, the pain subsided but around 6-7p, a bunch of nurses and doctors stormed into our room saying “baby is a little grumpy so we’re gonna do XYZ”. One staff member started reading off C-section risks to me to get my verbal consent, others tried to get me into an all-fours position, while another put an oxygen mask on me. I think the oxygen mask really freaked me out. Meanwhile DK was off to the side just watching and I didn’t say anything. Eventually things calmed down, we didn’t need the C-section and DK & I agreed that some calmer context would have helped haha. We waited overnight to dilate fully and by 5am on Sunday, we were ready to go! After pushing for 5 minutes, EK was born (cone-shaped and blue) and my first words were, “What the heck!” Once we cleaned up, it hit me how freaking adorable he was. DK sent photos and messages to both families and that was that!

As the epidural wore off and the catheter removed , I was introduced to the wonderful & embarrassing world of urinary incontinence. Almost immediately, I wet myself (a lot!) and the nurses had to tend to me. Thankfully, I heard, read or watched YT videos about this so I was pretty shameless about it. Like, what can I do? I have no control! We got moved to the post partum unit before Sunday noon which was slightly smaller and there, we had a nurse or doctor check on us or EK every other hour. Going to the bathroom every three hours to prevent serious leaking was annoying and the IV became super painful, since I started to move around and hold EK. I was on email for about an hour, canceling & consolidating meetings, and crafting my final week at work message. I decided I needed one more week (even while EK was here) to transition everything smoothly and feel at peace, which is another way of saying “I know it’s unconventional but this is how I want to do things!” I finally checked my phone - not sure why, but I hated the thought of texting or holding conversations during the L&B/pp time. I think I was just exhausted. I slept so poorly with the nurses coming to check on me every hour from the night before and I was just mentally and physically off. 

Come Monday am and with the prospects of going home soon, I felt better and Facetimed umma & appa. When I got wheeled Covid with EK in my arms, the nurse covered his face with the swaddle...covid things to recall years from now. Finally, we got home! And as we lifted EK out from the carseat, DK & I were both kind of amazed. “It’s like we went shopping and came back with a baby!” And the first few nights, of just me and DK, were so special. Just figuring it out. Powered by adrenaline and burning desire to do things right for our baby.

On night 2, EK’s circumcision bandaid had come undone and hung onto his skin by a thread. We didn’t know what to do, since we were told this & that about the circumcision healing process. Anyway, we decided to pull it off and EK’s cries broke me - and I’m pretty sure it tore at DK too. We knew it was already painful for EK but the sight of the swelling, bright red part + his crying was too much for these two new parents. I cried and cried and cried haha. But to conclude the whole circumcision story, after about 1 week of careful tending, he is fully and perfectly healed :)

[wedreamedlove]

[Confessing Voice]

"Under the glimmering lights I was only watching your radiance. I'll place everything I wish to tell you in this song."

This is doing a rerun on the ENG server so what better time to post a translation on it than now? Maybe it'll encourage people to get the card. But I'm also curious about what people feel regarding the differences between the versions.

Does the Asian version seem more quiet with charged undertones while the English version is more physical? It reminds me of reviews I've read about different actors' takes on the Phantom of the Opera lol.

NOTE: This is the JP version with CN subbed lines because I needed to keep the literary reference with the song he sings.

[True Love Date]

I was meticulously checking the first broadcast of Miracle Finder for the New Year in the editing room.

It was an important broadcast related to our sponsors and our ratings this year. I looked over the show's contents with especially strict eyes.

Editing Staff: We've edited this 12 times already...

Everyone's line of sight gathered on me. They were waiting for me to give the OK.

MC: I think it's good this time. We're done with this!

Cheers rose. Looking at everyone who worked hard through consecutive all-nighters I felt bad.

MC: Good job everyone. I'll be generous with the project rewards so look forward to that!

Editing Staff: President, the person we need to thank the most is Professor Xu Mo.

I showed a confused expression.

Editing Staff: I secretly contacted Professor Xu Mo when we kept on redoing this. He gave me a lot of advice even though he was busy...

I looked at my phone screen in surprise. Two weeks earlier---

~~~

His face crossed my mind when I was troubled over this current project.

My hand moved on its own to call Xu Mo. It started to become a habit to contact him whenever I had problems.

Xu Mo picked up after several rings.

MC: Xu Mo? Are you busy right now? There's something I'd like to ask you...

Static crackled from the other side of the call. After a while, I heard Xu Mo's voice.

Xu Mo: I'm sorry but lately... I've been busy.

His tone was calm but also distant. It wasn't from exhaustion. I felt a coldness from somewhere.

MC: Don't worry. It wasn't anything serious, so...

Xu Mo: Mm. If it's nothing then I'm going to end the call.

MC: Okay...

Xu Mo didn't say anything further. That was more than enough to make me feel the distance between us.

MC: Wait!

MC: Um... you might be busy, but take care of yourself. Bye bye.

Just when I thought there was rough breathing it suddenly fell quiet. Hearing a monotone beeping, I came back to myself. Xu Mo had already ended the call.

MC: Did he hear my last words...?

Looking at the ended call I was struck by a strange feeling.

Maybe I was thinking too much? His words and speech was cold like never before.

MC: What am I thinking? Xu Mo is just busy...

Although I tried telling myself that I couldn't help but feel uneasy somewhere.

I shook my head and drove away my negative emotions. I relied too much on him. This time I needed to solve things by myself.

Editing Staff: ---President, President? Are the credits good like this?

I returned to the present after being lost in my thoughts. The words "Program Supervisor: Xu Mo" on the credits roll jumped into my eyes.

MC: W-what sort of advice did Professor Xu Mo give? Um... how did you get him to help? When was that?

Editing Staff: It was about 2 days ago. We were editing until 4AM but still had to redo everything... It was when you fell asleep on the sofa.

Editing Staff: After I called Professor Xu Mo, he asked me what happened to you, and I replied you were sleeping on the sofa.

Editing Staff: Then he ended the call saying he was busy. But the next morning an email arrived with detailed advice...

Editing Staff: The strange thing is that he wrote for me not to let you know. But you've found out already, so it's fine, right?

I wondered why Xu Mo helped when he had refused once.

(Why did he say not to let me know? Is there a problem if I know about it...?)

I also didn't understand the reason for Xu Mo's sudden coldness.

For a while there were no replies to my texts and his lectures were on break too. It was like he was distancing himself from me on purpose.

My heart clenched when I thought this.

Editing Staff: President, why don't we invite Professor Xu Mo to our New Year's party this time? He looked like he enjoyed our year-end party a few days ago and he helped us out this time too...

I said this while looking at the New Year's party notice I sent to everyone.

MC: He... seems to be busy, so he might not come.

Editing Staff: But he came to the year-end party even though he was busy, right...?

I hurried out of the editing room as if ending the topic.

On the day of the New Year's party, I came with everyone in the company to a newly opened high-class karaoke box in Lianyu City.

It was an elegant, modern, and spacious reserved room. A white grand piano and guitar were placed in front of the karaoke machine, and beside that was a small stage.

I checked my phone's text messages over and over again. A message from 3 days ago remained there.

Text: Xu Mo, my company's going to have a New Year's party at Petrichor 3 days later. If you'd like, why don't you come?

Text: You looked like you enjoyed singing at the year-end party a while ago, so I thought I'd invite you this time too. But if you're busy then please don't hesitate to refuse.

Even though the message was definitely sent there was no response. I sighed with worry and disappointment.

Yue Yue: President, why have you been staring constantly at your phone? Work is done for today!

Yue Yue quickly stole my phone, randomly touching the screen, and then placed it in front of herself.

MC: Hey, my phone...

I stretched out my hand but Yue Yue pushed a set of cards to me.

Yue Yue: You don't sing, right? Then let's play cards!

The company members around us gathered in interest. I had no choice but to pass the time playing cards with everyone.

Xu Mo's house---

The phone rang and a message arrived. It was from [NAME].

Xu Mo hesitated slightly and then picked up the phone. However, the message was just numbers and letters and he didn't understand what she wrote.

What was this? Xu Mo's expression became severe.

He searched on the internet and tried various methods but he couldn't decipher it. He felt a sense of frustration.

He wondered why she had sent this message.

Was she angry at being treated coldly? Or was it a demand for a reply to her New Year's party invitation...?

Xu Mo dialed her phone from his landline. However, only an automated voice saying "This phone has been turned off" came.

Xu Mo: What is wrong with me?

Xu Mo: When did I start caring about these conventions?

For a while, Xu Mo stared at the message which came from the girl 3 days ago. It was written with her usual detailed and kind words.

At the beginning, his objective was just to get close to her. But the closer he got the more he was drawn to her for some reason.

Xu Mo: Didn't I already decide to leave her life?

Why did he help her again even though he refused her once? Why was his heart unsettled from this incomprehensible message?

The intense pain in Xu Mo's heart insistently told him the reason. That over there was an answer he couldn't escape even if he desperately averted his eyes.

The moment the door to the karaoke room opened Xu Mo faintly understood the answer.

That he couldn't leave her.

~~~

MC: Xu Mo! You came?

Her clear eyes widened roundly and she looked at him. The person reflected in those eyes was him alone.

Xu Mo suddenly placed a hand on his chest. A thin thread was tightly squeezing his heart.

He sighed.

Forget it, he would be foolish once more with this foolish girl.

Xu Mo entered the room and sat beside her naturally.

MC: Weren't you busy?

MC: Erm, nevermind. You didn't reply so I didn't think you'd come.

Even under the dim lights he could clearly see her emotions.

There was joy and doubt.

He swallowed back the words he was about to say and softly stroked her hair.

Xu Mo: Sorry. I couldn't get through to your phone so I came here.

MC: You couldn't get through?

She looked down and searched the top of the sofa before showing him the phone, biting her lip awkwardly.

MC: I accidentally turned it off...

Xu Mo smiled lightly with some exasperation. Light and shadow were jumbled together in his eyes.

Xu Mo: Silly.

She gave a pure laugh and then, covering her face, her eyes darted around.

MC: Were you worried about me?

Xu Mo: Yes.

Xu Mo approached her and nodded without hesitation.

Yue Yue: Huh? It's Professor Xu Mo? President, you should have told us if the professor was coming.

MC: Uh... that's because...

Xu Mo: I heard everyone was having a New Year's party so I came without an invitation. I'm not interrupting, am I?

Yue Yue: No way. I was moved when I heard you singing at the year-end party. Everyone wants to hear it again!

Yue Yue said this and then ran back to the stage again to sing enthusiastically with Anna.

Xu Mo: Why aren't you singing together with them?

MC: Huh? I... don't sing much.

Xu Mo: I know. But I'd like to hear it.

My face turned red at Xu Mo's unexpected words.

MC: You're planning on teasing me again, aren't you...

The corners of Xu Mo's lips rose and then he sighed.

Xu Mo: It's true I was worried about you. It's also true that I want to hear you sing.

Xu Mo: Everything is true.

His casual words resounded in my heart more than any other noise in the room.

Yue Yue started singing a sad love song with Anna who was still on the stage.

Anna: Did you really throw away those glittering days...

Yue Yue: I had many dreams in those long nights. Don't remember me. One day you will also know pain...

Xu Mo looked at the words showing on the screen. The flickering light was reflected in his eyes.

The lively karaoke party on top of the stage repeated and, below the stage, everyone else amused themselves with games.

Seeing that Xu Mo had come everyone persistently invited him to join their game.

Gu Meng: Next is the improved version of Spin the Bottle! Whoever this beer bottle points to has to answer everyone's question. If they can't answer with the truth then as penalty they need to drink all this alcohol!

When Gu Meng clapped her hands the editing staff carried over a tray with five cups of whiskey.

Colleagues: This is overdoing it!

Looking at the lined up drinks, I became worried. I would get drunk from just one cup, so if I drank them all I might collapse.

That reminded me, I hadn't seen Xu Mo drink before. I looked at him inquisitively.

Xu Mo nodded and patted the back of my hand.

The beer bottle began to spin and then pointed at Gu Meng.

Yue Yue: Do you have someone you like?

Yue Yue, who had joined the circle at one point, began the questions. At that first question... everyone's eyes gathered on Gu Meng.

Gu Meng glared lightly at Yue Yue and then reluctantly nodded.

Cheers rose. Gu Meng spun the bottle as if trying to avenge herself. This time the bottle pointed at Xu Mo and stopped.

Yue Yue: Professor Xu Mo, is there someone you like in this room?

Gu Meng: How about trying another question?

Yue Yue: That's why I said "in this room"!

Xu Mo smiled and nodded decisively.

Xu Mo: There is.

That answer was so surprisingly clear that the area became quiet. After that cheers exploded and Gu Meng whistled.

My heart was already racing the second Yue Yue asked that question.

The person Xu Mo liked was in this room... My ears turned red and my mind went blank.

I unconsciously brought my hand back but Xu Mo grabbed it firmly.

Xu Mo: Why is your face red?

MC: Erm, uh... it's because of the drinks!

Xu Mo: But... it doesn't seem like you've drank anything yet.

MC: Umm, it's because it's hot then?

Looking at me as my voice gradually became smaller, Xu Mo chuckled beside my ear.

Yue Yue: Okay, next is Professor Xu Mo again!

The beer bottle pointed at Xu Mo again and stopped. This time Gu Meng restrained Yue Yue and asked a question.

Gu Meng: Who is the person you said you liked?

Everyone held their breath and stared at Xu Mo.

My heart wouldn't stop pounding. I looked down and reflexively pulled back the hand that was held by Xu Mo.

Xu Mo smiled, as if he understood something, and drained the drinks one after another.

Everyone was a bit disappointed and began to spin the bottle again.

I secretly glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He looked drunk and even his ears were red.

MC: Xu Mo, are you okay?

He nodded his head and brought his lips to my ear. His hot breath and the smell of alcohol drifted around me and it felt ticklish.

Xu Mo: I'm fine, although... you still owe me an answer.

MC: I...

I was at a loss for an answer and, at last after panicking, I fell silent. I just concentrated on touching my hair and hiding my discomposure.

Maybe it was because of the drinks or maybe the atmosphere of the place, but Xu Mo became talkative and his eyes were hazy.

Yue Yue: It's finally the president's turn!

Yue Yue and Gu Meng exchanged looks and then came up to me together.

Gu Meng: Who's the person important to you? Please be specific.

MC: How come I'm the only one who has to be "specific"?

Yue Yue: You have to keep to the rules. It's useless to try and run!

The person most important to me--- I looked at Xu Mo shyly and then breathed in deeply.

MC: That person showed me a world I didn't know about until now.

MC: He's warm but not oppressive. He's calm but not melancholic. He's a person that's like a clear sky and a deep fog.

MC: He also notices the slightest change in my feelings and taught me the laws of this world.

MC: Whenever I'm lost he leads me forward with a gentleness that surrounds me.

I sunk into my memories and continued to talk by myself, not noticing how beside me Xu Mo placed his glass down, furrowed his brows, and bit his lip...

MC: He is... a very, very important person to me.

Finished talking about my heart, I gave a deep sigh.

Colleague A: For the president to talk so passionately means that "man" isn't here, right? If he was here, then you wouldn't say this, huh~.

Yue Yue: I wanna know who it is!

MC: Hey now! Enough with the chatter, let's move on...

Everyone unanimously guessed at the "man" I talked about. Xu Mo remained silent and raised his glass, taking a mouthful of his drink.

Despite the game resuming Xu Mo seemed strange somewhere. It was like his cheer up to now had disappeared.

MC: Maybe he's drunk? He drank a lot earlier...

MC: I've never seen him drunk. I'm sure it'd be cute.

I stood in front of the sink, thinking about how he'd look drunk, and giggled.

~~~

The moment I stepped out into the hall to return to the room my arm was suddenly grabbed by someone. I was held against a sturdy chest with a force I couldn't fight against.

I was dumbfounded. The scent of summer grass and the smell of faint alcohol surrounded me.

When I came back to myself I was held tightly to Xu Mo. My back was against the wall and one of my arms was caught by him.

MC: Xu Mo...

My heart raced and I didn't know what to do.

Xu Mo looked at me with empty eyes.

Xu Mo: Is that person so important to you?

MC: Huh?

Xu Mo: Tell me. Who is that person?

Xu Mo suddenly came close, speaking in a censuring tone.

(Hold on. Didn't he hear me talk? Or... did he misunderstand?)

I looked up at Xu Mo. Complicated emotions that seemed about to overflow even now were being restrained desperately in his eyes.

MC: You've got it wrong...

Xu Mo: Tell me...

Xu Mo came even closer. The scorching heat of his presence enveloped my surroundings.

It was the first time I saw him with such a scary look. It was so surprising I had no idea what to do. I stared into his eyes and said this.

MC: It's you.

MC: ... The "man" I was talking about is you, Xu Mo. You're my important person.

Xu Mo's eyes became dazed for a second. The smell of alcohol disappeared.

MC: I was talking about you. But... it looks like I caused a misunderstanding...

Xu Mo regained his calm and quietly released my arm.

Xu Mo: I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?

MC: A little...

Xu Mo looked down and rubbed gently at my arm. I couldn't see his expression but his warmth reached up to my ears.

When we returned to the room everyone was still excited. My heart raced just from remembering what happened earlier.

Pressing on my chest, I told myself to "calm down". Then, so that he wouldn't drink any more alcohol, I secretly pulled his glass in front of me.

Yue Yue: President, you never sing, right? How about singing 1 song today at least?

Yue Yue held out the mic to me.

MC: Erm! I'll pass...

I looked at Xu Mo and nervously declined.

It wasn't that I was bad at singing. It was just that I wasn't prepared to sing in front of Xu Mo.

Yue Yue: If the president won't sing then I'll have Professor Xu Mo sing!

Hearing that, everyone became even more enthusiastic.

Xu Mo, who was looking at me, nodded. I also wanted to hear him sing.

He gave a soft smile and, holding a glass, went to the stage.

It was at that time that I finally noticed him wearing a black turtleneck and dark purple scarf.

The speckled lights shone on him and how he had a hand casually placed in his pocket. A languid and alluring atmosphere was brought out.

Xu Mo set his glass down. Then, after thinking a little, he came to me and nonchalantly took my hand and returned directly to the stage again.

He wasn't using a strong force, but there was a sense of pressure that brooked no refusal.

Before I knew it, he slotted his body against mine and placed his chin on my shoulder. The aroma of the alcohol mixed with a refreshing fragrance which was like grasslands after the rains stopped.

Xu Mo: What would you like to sing?

MC: ... Do I have to sing?

Xu Mo: I want to hear you sing.

MC: You won't be shocked after hearing my singing, right?

I raised my head and said this, pursing my lips.

Xu Mo: Then... why don't we try it?

His mouth came close to my ear and he said this in a low voice. I nodded in a dazed manner with a mind gone hazy from the alcohol.

Xu Mo operated the karaoke machine and a mellow melody rang out.

His palm covered my hand. It was a large hand which seemed to cover my hand and the mic together.

Something like a weak current seemed to run through my entire body from his dry palm...

His eyes stared straight at me... straight into the depths of my heart.

Something like a decision was reflected in those eyes.

Xu Mo: When I fall in love, it will be forever.

It was a low enrapturing voice, like a late autumn wind or the swelling night ocean. He sang with his heart in it.

That voice knocked on the door to my heart.

Memories came into my mind one after another.

The first time we met and his beautiful face under a dazzling light. The time we met in a movie theatre at midnight. That golden-colored picnic. That rainbow after the rain lifted...

All those memories rode on that singing voice and slowly flowed throughout the sparkling room.

MC: And the moment---

MC: I can feel that you feel that way too---

As we sang we came even closer together and our hands continued to remain touching.

From the beginning until the end, Xu Mo looked at me with a constant smile and eyes that held expectation.

Xu Mo: It turns out a song can be this short.

The song ended and we got off the stage.

MC: Xu Mo, you really do sing well!

Xu Mo's lips curved and he said this with mischievous eyes.

Xu Mo: Oh? Can I believe... the words of a little liar?

MC: Huh, what do you mean?

Xu Mo: I was actually looking forward to your shocking singing.

I remembered how I said earlier "You won't be shocked after hearing my singing, right?" and my face turned red.

MC: Who asked you to believe in that...

Xu Mo: Then what else have you tricked me on?

Xu Mo flicked my forehead with a finger.

MC: Um... before I said you didn't have to come if you were busy, but to be honest I really wanted you to come.

I looked at Xu Mo and, while thinking this and that, spoke awkwardly.

Xu Mo was surprised. Flickering light surged up violently in his eyes and I saw him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing.

MC: What's wrong?

He gave a long sigh and then spoke in a voice even lower than earlier.

Xu Mo: I won't do that anymore.

He looked apologetically at me.

Xu Mo: Why won't you ask if I've ever tricked you?

I blinked.

MC: Um... of course I know that you've tricked me.

Xu Mo: For example?

MC: You were clearly drunk earlier even though you said you weren't drunk. Even more, you misunderstood me...

Looking at her grumble, Xu Mo was a bit surprised and he laughed quietly. Then he drew in the glass beside his hand and drank a mouthful.

His mind was hazy. Her smile and the spotted lights swayed in front of his eyes.

He thought about how he was surely drunk. But that was fine. Being drunk was better.

The music could continue, the drinks could continue.

That way he could tell himself this. That he was taken in by this atmosphere and the alcohol. And that's what these gentle feelings and hesitation resulted from.

Xu Mo raised his glass and drained it all at once.

~~~

DATE DIARY

Everyone worked really hard for the first show of the new year. Finally, after it took shape, I learned that Xu Mo helped. I thought he had refused to though... Why?

On that day, if I remember correctly, I asked for Xu Mo's help but he refused me coldly. Why did he help me again at the critical moment? I don't really understand Xu Mo.

I thought Xu Mo wouldn't come to the New Year's party but he came on the day of. He said he became worried because I didn't answer my phone. During a game of Spin the Bottle, Xu Mo confessed for the first time that he had a person he liked.

I also talked about the person most important to me. But, because Xu Mo was drunk, he seemed to misunderstand that. I'm someone who rarely sings in front of others but for some reason I ended up in a duet with Xu Mo. There was joy in his eyes.