#I’ve never seen anyone mention her it’s making me nuts

[marshmallowpuff]

Is the antagonist of Junji Ito’s Magami Nanakuse a transmisogynistic caricature or am I tripping

[thekinghazzastyles]

i take my whiskey neat | eddie munson x black!reader

(anyone can read, no real description)

summary: you're new to hawkins and are invited to a party when someone catches your eye. [2.9k]

warnings: mutual pining, suggestive content (no smut (I tried but I literally cannot lmao)), drinking, smoking, weed, language, no spoilers, no upside down, bold!reader, fem!reader

a/n: this has the possibility of having a part 2 which would most likely be smut but I've never written it and idk if I can lol. if enough people beg for it maybe I can muster something up but I can't promise it will be good. omg and PLS listen to the song, it’s the only thing i listened to while writing lol. - Love , H <3

You had spent most of your time since you’d left your house for this party, smoking a cigarette outside. Being the new girl and going to parties had its ups and downs. As you finished your first cigarette and went to grab your second you were stopped. 

“You’re not gonna have another one of those are you?” You looked up to see a guy with long curly black hair, smiling at you as he walked over to where you were standing. You hadn’t seen him at school during the week and he was not one of the guys that Robin, your “self-appointed tour guide” as she called herself, had mentioned, you definitely would’ve remembered a smile like that. 

“What else do you suggest I smoke?” you asked, challenging him. 

“Well I mean I have other plants, if you’re interested.” He said, shaking his metal lunchbox in your face.

“Oh yeah?” you questioned, smirking at him.

“Yeah,” he smirked back. 

“For how much?”

“For you gorgeous, it’s on the house,” he flirted. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but why?”

“Well for one, you’re new here and I suspect that it’s part of the reason as to why you have yet to head inside.”

“How do you know I’m new?”

“It’s a small town, sweetheart. And I’ve only just started seeing you at school.”

“You go to Hawkins High?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Oh, no reason, I just feel like I would’ve noticed you.”

“You would’ve noticed me?” he asked, a look of surprise on his face as he pointed to himself as he didn’t believe someone who looked like you, would notice him. 

“Uhh, yeah, you’re hot.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, you could feel his confidence oozing off of him as he got closer. So close you could feel his breath on your lips. He smelt like weed, cigarettes, and cheap cologne.

“Yeah,” you responded, getting even closer. He held up the joint and you took it from his hands. You looked down at it as you twirled it between your fingers. “You gonna make me smoke alone?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He didn’t respond but instead he took out a lighter and held it up to the joint. You put it between your lips and inhaled as he held the lighter to the other end. You pulled the joint from your lips and proceeded to blow the smoke out to the side. “You never told me your name,” you said, passing the joint off to him.

He took a deep inhale and held it in for a little before tilting his head up towards the sky and blowing it out. It gave you a better chance to look at him before he brought his eyes back to you, he smirked as he handed you the joint back as he caught you staring at his hands. “It’s Eddie,” he said with a chuckle.

“Y/N.” It didn’t take long before the joint was reduced down to its filter. You took a deep breath before you came to the conclusion that it was time to head inside. “I’ll see you inside?” you asked, making your way up to the door. He looked back at you and nodded. You smiled in return and continued inside. 

You were immediately ambushed by a drunk Robin who insisted that you both take shots. 

“Robin, you are cut off for the night,” a voice said from behind her. He had hair that seemed to be defying gravity and was a lot less drunk than the other attendees. “I can’t make her drink alone, Steve,” Robin responded, slurring her words which made you chuckle. His eyes were brought to you at the sound. His eyebrows raised as if he were asking you who you were.

“Y/N, I’m new, Robin invited me. I hope it’s okay?”

“So you’re the new girl Robin won’t shut up about. “She’s so cool and pretty but she’s not a bitch which is great.”” He spoke as if he were mimicking Robin which earned him a fist to his bicep. “Ow- shit Munson’s here, I’ll be right back,” Steve tried to take the shot from Robin as he walked away but it soon turned into a tug-of-war. You instead turned your head to the door to see who Steve was talking about and the only person who caught your eyes was Eddie.

“Is “Munson” Eddie?” You asked, turning back to the two who seemed to be bickering like siblings.

“Yeah, why?” Steve asked.

“I spoke to him outside,” you said, casually which made Robin also turn her head after she secretly took a shot behind Steve’s back. “What did you guys talk about?” she asked, handing you a shot. You gladly took it from her before responding. “Oh, nothing, he just gave me a free joint and we shared it,” you paused before you spoke again. “He’s kinda hot,” you stated, and then you took your shot.

You turned at the silence and found both Robin and Steve staring at you in shock. Both had their jaws dropped and failed to produce any words. “You think Munson, Eddie Munson,” Steve emphasized, “Is hot?” he finished, in shock. Robin on the other hand, had almost completely fallen to the floor in laughter, and would’ve if it weren’t for Steve grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back up.

“Yeah, and what about it?”

“It’s just-,” he cut himself off. “Is there no one else that could check that box for you?” You took a second to look around, scanning the people in attendance. There was one other guy, but for lack of better words, he looked like a dick. Why wear a shirt to a party if you’re going to leave it open? You pointed to him, not caring if he saw, “I mean, he’s hot too, but he looks like a dick,” you said as you turned back to them. 

“And is,” Robin said, vigorously nodding. 

“And Eddie?” Steve asked, still confused.

“Well he gave me a free joint.”

“Is that all that makes him hot? Because I’m sure you could get free weed from someone else.”

“No that’s not all,” you paused. “He looks like he can fuck.”

“Oh my God, I did not need to hear that,” Steve whispered to himself, shaking his head.

“Oh look who it is,” Robin exclaimed, and before you could find who she was talking about she was calling out to them. “Eddie!” she said as she waved her arm in the air telling him to come over.

Watching Eddie maneuver through the crowd while occasionally stopping to greet some people made him look even hotter. He moved swiftly and calmly. Like he was in his element. Maybe it was all the weed you both smoked, but he looked like he was moving in slow-motion. When he finally got to where the three of you were standing, stopped right next to you with Steve on his other side, he smiled down at you before speaking, “Harrington, Buckley, what can I do for the two of you?”

“Oh nothing,” Robin started. “We just heard that a certain someone thinks you’re-” The rest of her sentence came out muffled, as Steve quickly put his hand over her mouth to stop her. “Thinks I’m what, Robin?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. “Oh,” you started. “She’s talking about how I think you’re hot,” you spoke flatly. Steve and Robin's jaws dropped for the third time that night because of something that had come out of your mouth. This made Eddie turn his head towards you. He looked you up and down before speaking, “Oh I know, sweetheart.” You both held eye contact for seemed like an eternity before turning to Steve and Robin who were silently in shock. 

“Yeah I don’t think I can listen to this anymore,” Steve started. And before he could speak again Robin screamed, “Oh my God I love this song! Y/N we have to go dance!” She handed you a drink and grabbed your other hand to drag you to where everyone else was dancing. 

“So,” Robin started, speaking into your ear. “What was that look between you and Eddie?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you shrugged, continuing to dance. Your eyes scanned the crowd till they landed on Eddie who was already looking at you. You held eye contact for a bit till Robin spoke again. 

“Were you serious about what you said before he came over?”

“Oh a hundred percent,” you pause, taking a large gulp of your drink. “That man, looks like he would fuck me like a God.”

Robin was in even more shock than before leading her to also take a large gulp of her drink. “I can tell he’s into you.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You guys have spoken for what, all of ten minutes and he’s already flirting with you.”

“He doesn’t have like a girlfriend or anything, right?” You asked, simply wanting to make sure you weren’t getting in between anything. That was not something you wanted to do within your first month of being in a new town. 

“Nope,” she spoke, popping the ‘P’. “He has been single for as long as I’ve known him.” This left you to think more about him as your eyes followed him as the night went on. And the drunker you got, the bolder you got. 

***

For the rest of the party, Robin dragged you around introducing you to a few more people along with more shots, and splitting a joint. You found yourselves in Steve’s living room with the rest of the stragglers playing a game. The music had been turned down and the songs had switched to something a little calmer.

It was your turn to pick a card, so you reached to the center of the coffee table and read it aloud, “Pick someone to spit a shot into your mouth or take three shots.” You took a second after looking around at all of the people playing before speaking again, “Can I pick someone who’s not playing?”

“I don’t see why not,” Robin said, turning to you with a smirk as if she knew what you were thinking. 

You got up from your spot on the couch making sure to grab a shot glass and the bottle of whiskey. You walked with confidence over to where Eddie and Steve were sitting, talking amongst themselves. When they realized someone had approached them and they both looked up at you but you kept your eyes on Eddie. “Hey,” you smiled at him, tilting your head to the side a bit. 

“Hey,” he smiled back.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” you asked sweetly.

“Anything, sweetheart,” he turned toward to focus all of his attention on you. 

“You know the game we’re playing?” He nodded. “Well, the card I picked said I have to choose someone to spit a shot into my mouth.”

“And you chose me?” Eddie's eyebrow quirked in surprise, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, as if he relished the challenge you presented.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He slowly stood up to his full height and for the first time that night, you realized how much taller he is than you. He poured the whiskey into the shot glass and as he raised the glass to his lips, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his full lips. He grabbed your face with both hands, the warmth of his touch searing into your skin allowing you to close your eyes. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you parted your lips, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted. Time seemed to stand still as you savored the taste of him, the tang of whiskey mingling with the heady rush of desire. It was quiet and you both knew that everyone had their eyes on you, but neither of you cared. 

You licked your lips once he was done and held eye contact with him. Eddie brought a thumb to your chin to wipe away the alcohol that had dripped down your chin in the process and slowly brought it to his lips. You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled, “Thank you.” He stood speechless, not believing someone, and you at that, let him do that in front of people. Before he realized it, you had grabbed the bottle and returned back to your spot on the couch where the original group of people sat in shock. 

“I can’t believe I just watched that,” Robin whispered to herself but loud enough for you to hear. You looked over at Eddie, who was still standing watching you in shock, and winked at him. The both of you kept sneaking glances at one another throughout the rest of the night. 

Earlier, Steve had mentioned to you that you could stay overnight and once Robin heard that; it’s safe to say that you could now consider your situation as being held against your will. As the night went on, the only people left were you, Eddie, Robin, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. You had quietly retired to the back porch to finish off the last of the joint you and Robin forgot about. You hear the door open knowing it wasn’t Robin or Steve, as Robin had finally succumbed to her excessive drinking and Steve was the one helping her out.

Eddie sat down on the chair next to you and sat so he was facing you. You both had yet to speak so you decided to pass the joint off to him. He gladly took it and placed it in between his lips. For the second time that night, your eyes were focused on his lips. Maybe a little too focused as you didn’t hear a word he had just said. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He chuckled and shook his head before passing the joint back to you. “I said we put on quite a show earlier, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, we did,” you said, laughing, with smoke coming out of your mouth, passing the joint over to him once again. Eddie wanted to make you laugh over and over again if it meant he got to hear that beautiful sound come from your perfect lips. 

“I’m not going to lie though,” he started, taking a puff and releasing it. “I kinda enjoyed it,” he chuckled, bringing his head down and rubbing the back of his neck. Nervously thinking you’d think differently of him because of that. 

You gasped and his head shot up, a look of worry on his face. But then you started smiling which soon turned into laughter. “You are a kinky man Eddie,” you said still laughing, and he laughed with you till silence filled the air between you two. “But I guess that would also make me a kinky woman, because I really enjoyed it,” you said with a straight face with a slight smirk appearing the more you looked at him. Soon, the both of you, once again, broke out into laughter. 

You and Eddie talked all night and by the time you realized it, the sun was rising. Eddie mentioned that the only way you both could get out of helping clean up was if you left within the hour. You felt bad leaving without saying anything so you left a note for Steve and Robin thanking them and saying that your mom wanted you home. You walked to the party so your plan was to walk back when Eddie offered you a ride, and you didn’t have it in you to object. 

***

“Thanks for taking me home, Eddie,” you said to him, as he opened the passenger side door of his van and lent you a hand to assist you. 

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart,” he said smiling, as he closed the door behind you. 

You both walked up to your door in silence, and then proceeded to stare at one another on your front steps before he spoke again. “Do you wanna go on a date? With me? Thursday night? But if you’re busy I totally get that and if you don’t want to I totally get that too,” he was going to continue rambling on if you hadn’t cut him off. 

“I would love to go on a date, with you, on Thursday night, Eddie,” you responded, answering all three of his questions, smiling at him.

“Sweet,” he whispered, smiling at you. “I will see you at school then,” he said as he backed down your stairs.

“Bye Eddie,” you beamed.

“Bye Y/N,” he smiled back. You continued to watch him walk to his car when you realized something. “Oh, Eddie, wait!” He turned around at the sound of your voice only to see you briskly walking towards him. “I forgot something,” and before he could ask what, you pulled him in by his leather jacket for a kiss. It was soft and his reaction was immediate as he pulled you in even closer by your waist. Before the kiss got too intense you pulled away smiling at him as he looked at you in bliss. 

“I’ll see you at school,” you smiled. And suddenly you were inside your house and Eddie was left in your driveway staring at the door in shock and excitement. 

One thing was for sure, Eddie couldn’t wait for Thursday. 

[dootznbootz]

Can I ask why you hate OdyDio? I’m not super familiar with Greek mythology yet, and I’ve seen OdyDio as fairly popular so I’m curious about the other side lol (I personally don’t ship it just because I can’t imagine Odysseus with anyone other than Penelope tbh).

Because people are literally mischaracterizing both Odysseus and Diomedes to make it work and it spits in the face of what Homophrosyne means 🙃

And people are nuts about it in a way that pisses me off more than any other NOTP/crackship I've had before.

I guess this post, This one, and This one that people have done about vague fandom is a good explanation if that's all you want as I do rant here lol. NGL, I don't...really care if I'm being mean right now. Like block, unfollow, or ignore me. I wanna rant.

Btw, yeah, I'm being a "hater" but I'll tag right so you can block "#anti odydio" if you must.

I already didn't care for it in the first place, (I've vented about it before) as I agree, OdyPen are literally soulmates. To the point where they have their own WORD for their love. And yet people will fucking insist that "Oh, Odysseus and Diomedes are more compatible". WHERE?

The Odyssey is literally about him trying to go back home to Penelope and their son. And even in the Iliad, Odysseus mentions her. The Odyssey only mentions Diomedes three times and never once by Odysseus (once by Nestor, twice by Menelaus) so... that goes to show how Odysseus feels about him. 🤷

I was just neutral about the ship existing because it's like one of those absurd crackships to me but with how popular, fanonized, and just...With HOW people have behaved about it to me ;~;

Ofc, I'm a huge Penelope fan but even with Diomedes, you can't go into his tag without OdyDio. I'm not even joking. I'm sad I've had to block Diomedes' tag as well because people don't tag right AND don't apparently see him as more than Odysseus' "fling" ;~; (I mean at least Penelope and Diomedes can relate to the fact that it sucks that a lot of people are only caring about them because of Odysseus and not because of who they are. :/ )

Even with OdyPenDio. I've noticed that it mostly means OdyDio (+ Pen in the footnotes) :/

Just in general, with my own reading of the Iliad, I...WHERE?! xD Where is the "ship"? They are comrades and they're very different from one another personality wise. Sure, they're a good team in combat but in life??? They are not "likeminded" at ALL.

They also have a fairly large agegap, Odysseus being one of the older kings while Diomedes is one of the youngest. I have them around a decade apart in my writing If you bring up pederasty, you will be smited. You're fucking disgusting. They also have very little in common other than them both being Athena's pets (which um. Penelope is one too, you know?). Odysseus is a fucked up lil warrior trickster who loves his wife and child more than life itself while Diomedes is a young child soldier boy who is incredibly duty bound and war is where he feels most comfortable.

Diomedes would not put up with Odysseus' rambling about his family and Odysseus WANTS to talk about that. They're like co-workers.

Diomedes is a younger king who looks up to all these older and more experienced kings. "Notice me, senpai" energy, and I love it!

That's just the Canon texts itself as to why I just simply disliked it. The fandom was... yeah ;~; made me hate that it even exists. (Not all! Some of y'all are incredibly kind and respectful of boundaries and I appreciate that! It's just that...Some were not.)

I mean I've had to deal with Aphobia surrounding my OdyPen and along with some asks/people in the past who were TRYING to make me write about OdyDio despite the fact that I've never liked it. "Hey, I know you don't like this thing, but maybe THIS will change your mind. You have fun ideas so I wanna see what you do with OdyDio!"

Do you know how shitty that feels? 😞 To have people, WHO KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE SOMETHING, try to make you like it? By sending you links and "headcanons" that will "still work in your writing?" Sending in your asks, DMING YOU SOMETIMES.

That was like, a year ago and thankfully it's stopped for the most part but I was in such a funk that I didn't even wanna write ANYTHING for a while.

Funny enough? I USED to have this "Oh, Odysseus and Diomedes are exes who fucking hate each other." idea where I aged up Diomedes to make it work, which I now no longer have because I realized I only wrote that way because I thought I HAD to in order to get people to be nice to me. ;~; Because if they're romantic at some point but simply don't click, maybe that'll be enough. To get people to just shut up and stop sending me things. (fuck the anon who sent smut last December. you suck.)

I changed that (now it's Greater Ajax who's his ex. lol. idk ask about it if you want.) because I realized yeah, it was making me unhappy and because I felt like I HAD to. ;~;

I also think it's weirdly because some Odysseus fans almost block out the Odyssey, you know, HIS story, and pretend like he didn't do everything to get home to his loved ones.

I've seen some ridiculous shit about Penelope as well. >:( like holy shit, misogyny everywhere.

"Oh, she didn't trust him and made him cry when she tricked him. She's abusive!" Literally one of the most stupid things I've ever fucking heard. She HAD to be sure it was him and when she knows for sure, she apologizes, explains, and kisses him. Kisses that he desperately and happily returns btw.

"After all Odysseus goes through from the Goddesses, he's afraid of women so he and Penelope separate." ...WHAT?! He literally wants to "embrace in love in their bed" as soon as they stop crying! And she holds him back only to know Tiresias' prophecy, which he DOES TELL HER BTW, before they DO "show love".

"Penelope becomes Odysseus' and Diomedes' surrogate!" ...Wow. Just wow. Love how people will talk about how ancient men in the past only saw women as "breeders" as though they're any fucking different with THIS fucking take.

It's annoying that I'll post a headcanon on tumblr and then the tags are "This but with OdyDio." or that people will often only like/reblog my ODYSSEUS shit and not my Penelope. ;~;

I love how people will be adamant about how "Odysseus never cheated" (true), and yet have him with Diomedes :/ Like at LEAST have OdyPen agree to have an open marriage before they're separated if you're going to pull that stance. (also give Penelope a girlfriend if Odysseus gets a boyfriend, you cowards)

So many people for some reason only see Penelope for what she is for her husband and that's all. As though that's all she is. And as if Odysseus isn't as intertwined with her as she is with him.

I just... stdrfgyh ;~; I wouldn't hate it so much if people were nice about someone not liking it but the fact that I literally cannot escape it and because some people were just so pushy, I just negative memories I guess.

Either way, I love Diomedes and Sthenelus together :) whether as a QPR or romantic or whatever, those two are like bonded pairs that cannot be adopted separately.

[impishjesters]

Denture Daddy

CW// implied unspecific sexual relationships, dom/sub talk, use of the word "daddy" and "mommy" in a non-parental form, mentioned hate sex note(s): basically the reader and Jibba (my TADC oc) playing a dumb game of who seems like a dom or sub to pass the time. Jibba can be seen as a bit of a "whore" but he wears it proudly. Rhett (who's mentioned) is another of my TADC ocs. A/N: This whole thing happened all because I wanted to say "denture daddy". I don't expect anyone to give a shit about this. But at the end of the day as long as my friend and I enjoy it, that's all that matters.

Conversations with Jibba was like a game of Russian roulette. You never knew what direction or topic would come up.

Sometimes the conversations were casual, asking how you were doing or if anything fun had happened. But then you’d get conversations about a tiered ranking of who was considered good in bed, only to get whiplash by a simple conversation on whether you were a dog or cat person.

It was a wild ride, to say the least, which is how you got roped into a conversation about your fellow circus captives and whether they fell into dom or sub-category—for shits and giggles that is.

“‘m just sayin’, ya look at Jax ‘n think he’s got this whole sadistic face to ‘im and it turns out he’s just as touch starved as he looks,” Jibba stated.

Right, they were sleeping together—something about hate fucking because of their prank war or some shit. Neither of them was very subtle about their pranks or their “hate sex” because if that was hate sex you hated to see what tamed sex was like.

Bunch of emotionally constipated idiots.

Jibba jabbed you with his elbow playfully, getting your attention back on him. “Thoughts on Kinger?”

“Definitely not a dom, in fact, it feels wrong to think about him even having sex.” You shuddered. Kinger felt too much like your dad, and thinking of your parent’s boinking was enough to make you wanna bleach your eyes.

He shrugged and crossed his arms before leaning his chest against your back. “Yea’ it’s like watchin’ ya gramparents be romantic an mushy.”

“Ugh,” you gagged, “why’d you have to make it worse? I was thinking of my dad at least.”

“Oo, you thinkin’ bout ya dad playing twista? Naughty, naughty.” he teased, shooting you a playful smirk.

You elbowed him hard, basking in the pained noise that left him. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Jibba groaned and rubbed his side, you had a mean right elbow. “Yea’ yeah, alright so what ‘bout Rhett?”

“Eye Daddy? Oh, yeah. Total dom, but like not like in that rough way—”

“—but in like a total control way? Oh yeah, ya don’t know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to crack that nut—metaphorically and literally.” Jibba scoffed and used your head as an armrest, staring out at the others doing one of Caine’s dumb lil games.

“Are you just making rounds to everyone?” You didn’t shame Jibba for his sex escapades, if anything good on him for finding some way to tame Jax’s awful behaviour.

“Only the hot ones.” You looked up at him despite his arm on your head and he sent you a wink. “I’ll get to ya in no time, less ya wanna jump the list then we can go find somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, not right now.” As entertaining as the thought was, you were quite relaxed just hanging out with the ridiculous man. Though it would be a tempting endeavor at a later time. “So, Ragatha?”

“Mm,” Jibba leaned back, taking most of his weight off of you but kept his arm in place. “She gives like, soft mommy vibes.” he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Though I feel like she has a lot of parental experiences if she’s been havin’ ta live with Jax for god knows how long.” He paused, eyes squinting in Ragatha’s direction. “I’d let her give me a good stern talk’ ta.”

“I’ll give you a stern talkin’ ta, if you don’t calm yourself.”

“Babe, this whole conversation is about who’s a dom and who’s not, how do ya expect me to keep calm?” he joked. You raised your arm again with a silent threat to elbow him and he swallowed. “Yeah, okay, calming down.”

“Pomni?”

The two of you fell silent, staring over at the anxious woman who was struggling to get out of Jax’s reach.

“Anxious chihuahua.” Both of you stated at the same time.

Jibba laughed that awful eerie death rattle of his. Did a toy like him really exist? God that was horrifying, who buys that for children? You knew he could control it but why did he have to do it now of all times?

He caught you staring and grinned. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Right, this is Jibba we’re talking about, he knows it’s creepy and did it intentionally. Bastard.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked back to Pomni. “She’s too anxious, poor woman probably has a hard time holding someone’s hand let alone sex. Though I’d rather not think about her sex life… feels wrong.”

“Oh, and thinkin’ ‘bout mine ain’t?”

You gave him a deadpan stare as to say ‘Really, that’s what you wanna ask?’. He cleared his throat and mumbled a little ‘touche’ before looking back at the others.

“Oo, I know a good one,” he snickered. “Caine.”

“Caine?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking you about Bubble.

For whatever unknown reason, at the mention of his name Caine appeared a few feet from the two of you with a loud pop. “Diiiid somebody say Caine?”

Jibba shook his head, seemed even with a lack of ears the loud pop affected him. You shook your own head, rubbing an ear. “Uh, not directly.”

Caine cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding you were simply talking about him—not trying to summon him. “I see. Well, while I’m here. Why aren’t you two participating?” he asked, waggling his fingers in the direction of the others.

“We’re playin’ our own game,” Jibba answered, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh?” Caine floated closer, eyeing the lanky doll.

“Yea’, the game of dom or sub.”

Caine cocked his head again. “I don’t understand.”

Jibba snickered and you couldn’t help but cover up your own laugh with a grunt. “What he mean’s is—”

“Oh no, he’s like one of those tops with golden retriever vibes that when ya call ‘em daddy like yer sayin’ ‘good boy’ they get excited.” He covers his face, a genuine laugh instead of that death rattle laugh.

The look of confusion never leaves Caine’s face but you can’t help but join Jibba in his laughter, because he’s not wrong. You could say a lot of insulting or weird things to Caine, but if you use that dog tone with him he’ll take just about anything as a compliment or praise.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, he’d be so fun to fuck with. “He’s not a dom…” you snicker, “but I’d still call him daddy.”

“Denture Daddy!” Jibba bursts out, nearly knocking himself and you off your perch.

The two of you laugh so loud it catches the attention of the others across the way. You wave your hand at Ragatha’s confused expression and further try to prevent the two of you from falling.

“I hate to intrude on this moment of merriment but,” Caine clears his throat, looking between the two of you with confused concern. “You two do know I’m not your father, yes?”

Jibba lets out a scream that turns everyone’s attention back onto you two, only to follow with nearly scream-level laughter from the man. You can’t really blame him though because you haven’t stopped laughing either, especially not long enough to try and explain to Caine that the two of you weren’t calling him father.

You give Caine what one could only describe as some form of yes as an answer before telling him he can go between cries and Caine leaves hesitantly. Your sides are starting to ache from so much laughing, meanwhile, Jibba has his face buried into his hands and is leaning into your shoulder like you’d be able to stop his laughter and tears.

He’s taking this a lot funnier than you but man, “denture daddy” is gonna always be in the back of your mind when you look at Caine from now on.

[beneathashadytree]

So I’ve had a really awful month- first my family and I had to put one of our cats down because he suddenly got really sick, and then my uncle passed away from stage four kidney cancer. I never got to say goodbye to him and I feel awful about it. I recently found out that my great aunt who’s had cancer for a long time is going into hospice because her chemo treatments aren’t working, and it feels like I just haven’t had a break from all this bad news and grief. It feels like it’s never ending and I’m afraid that something else horrible is going to happen. I was wondering, how do you think the Bucci gang would react to my situation if I was friends with them? Thank you so much for answering

LEAN ON ME - BUCCI GANG X READER

Warnings : mentions of grief and death, hospitals and hospices, their relationships are platonic, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : comfort <3

Word count : 1.2K words

Additional notes : I can’t even begin to apologize for how long it took me to write this. I had gone through something traumatic myself, and it took me a very long time to start answering my ask box. By the time I’ve reached this request, it’s already been so long🥲 I really hope that you’re faring better right now, and I pray for strength to your weary heart. I hope this request does justice to your feelings and honors them💗

Requests : Are closed for the time being.

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

Bruno’s easily the most comforting presence anyone could ever ask to have in their life, and he proves it with how he reacts to hearing the news from them as they cry their heart out to him

Maybe he won’t be so forward so as to embrace them, but he gently takes their hand in his, a silent vow to always be there for them, sealing it with a small smile

He’s the best to offer calming words; even though he knows that he can’t give them empty promises that things will be fine, what he can do is reassure them that no matter what happens in their personal life, it’s totally fine to grieve with him

Having seen all the horrors there are in Napoli, he’d never invalidate their feelings or their struggles, and it’s that fact that makes him such a lovely friend to have

If any expenses were necessary, whether at the hospice, funeral, burial grounds, or even just comforting purchases for themself, he’d pay for them all; it’s the least he could do to alleviate some of their pain and take away their troubles

He’s a tough nut to crack, but once having become friends with him, Abbacchio is the most loyal and devoted man there is, which makes him a great listener despite himself

All grump and daily exasperation pushed aside, he becomes that silent supporter that they need, listening to all their worries and sobs about the grief they’d been carrying all alone for a long time

He’s not the best with coming to terms with death and still carries a lot of guilt himself, so he won’t be the best in that area, but at the very least he can offer a night of heart-to-heart talk over drinks, where everything they need to feel lighter is taken care of

Abbacchio will never leave their side, even if he prefers to linger in the shadows and let them take the grief headfirst, because he knows that escaping from the truth never did him any well… it might seem a little cruel, but they both know he’s doing it for their own good

And at the end of the day, when their tears are blurring their vision and their heart feels so heavy it becomes a burden in their chest, he shoulders half the weight with them just by being so close

As much as Mista believes that a lighthearted attitude can ease any tension and shoulder off any burden, he’s not an insensitive prick and knows when that is not welcomed nor the right way to go about it

So, with a little awkwardness, he learns to sit still and listen to them earnestly as they tear up and let outball their worries and grief in one go, even if it snaps his heart in two to hear them so distraught

He’s had his fair share of losing loved ones and worrying over other people’s lives without having had the chance to say goodbye, but he’s never really outwardly expressed it, so this might actually be a little therapeutic for him too

With hands as gentle as they are when dealing with the Sex Pistols, he wraps them in a casual but affectionate embrace and encourages them to always lean on him

He’s as dependable as could be, so he’d never fail to offer them solace when things get too rough and they feel overwhelmed with heartbreak

Giorno’s always been torn between immense apathy and absolute understanding of other people’s emotions, but when it comes to this happening to someone so dear to him, he’d empathize with them immediately

After having become the Don, he knows more than anyone just how difficult it is to say goodbye too soon, and how hard it is to still continue about your day while still carrying guilt for having not been ready for it

So he’d be the best person to seek that sort of quiet, understanding comfort from, and it helps that he’s not a man of many words; he believes that simply sitting beside them and offering his shoulder for them to lean their head on is more than enough to show his endless support

He’s quick to reassure them that things won’t get worse—as long as he’s there with them, they’ll never have to worry about anything because he’ll always offer his protection and services

As for the realm of life and death? Though it’s out of his hands, he’ll always stand beside them, come what may, and they could always count on that

Fugo was still grieving himself when they came to him with tears streaking down their cheeks and a heartbroken expression on their face, and he found that he couldn’t turn them away

For someone who had so few friends that he cherished so much, he felt it tug at his heartstrings seeing them so upset, and he felt the urge to instantly offer them comfort, but simply didn’t know how to go about it

It soon became apparent to him that being there was simply more than enough; yes, him trying to talk to them and reassure them that it’s alright to struggle with their muddled feelings at the moment was helpful, but the gentle patting of his hand at their back was more than perfect

He might try to rationalize their fears while simultaneously trying to convince them that they weren’t very logical, which might come off as a bit rude, but it was just his awkward attempt at trying to dispel their worries

As someone who frequented the hospital before to see other people, he’d probably offer to visit the hospice with them if that’s what they wish; he’s immune to the negativity that thrives there, and would do anything to make himself a reliable presence when he tags along with them

It’s no secret that Narancia wears his heart on his sleeve, and gets very easily affected by the changing moods around him—and with someone so close to him feeling so terrible, it’s impossible for him to not feel for them

When they run to him and cry into his chest, he finds it hard to blink back the tears that formed in his eyes as they sobbed and vented to him about how absolutely devastated they were, and how the walls felt like they were closing in on them; a familiar enough feeling for the mafioso

While there isn’t much in his hands to do, he’s more than eager to wrap them in the warmest hug imaginable and offer his most sincere condolences

Now it seems that everywhere they go, they’ll find Narancia tagging along and keeping them company, hoping that doing so will lessen the burden and encourage them to embrace how they’re feeling and voice all their fears and worries

Personally, he’s got far too much bad history with hospitals and illnesses, so he would rather not go with them, but he’s more than willing to make up for it by waiting for them with their comfort take-out food as soon as they get back

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

[brzatto]

Okay the anon mentioning that thing about Mikey leaving Carmy the beef and in a way leaving Richie to Carmy IS FANTASTIC

This fucker really said these two idiots will only survive if I force them together.

Also I feel like Richie is dying to take care of someone in a way? Like, he was really good with Tiff and he wants to be a good dad so bad. And then his dead best friend said heard and just shoves this chaotic, broken, mess of a little brother into his arms with no direction or further guidance. And he grew up with this kid right? He saw all the awkward phases and knows him better than most of his family even though it was probably more of an annoyance than genuinely wanting to know.

So he, on a super base level, probably knows Carmy enough to be surprisingly good at keep him alive and healthy?

Mikey gave Richie the human equivalent of a depressed house plant and he's actually doing a decent job at keeping Carmy it alive.

Also

Also

Along this same train of thought, what would Nat and Donna do once they realize Richie and Carmy may be a little closer than they realized? I think Nat would give a fierce shovel talk to Richie and then hug him for a really long time. What about Donna? She's already fucking nuts. I kinda want to explore the idea of her snarling something about Carmy always trying to be Mikey but I also like the idea of her thinking they can support each other better than she ever did.

And I feel like it's just glazed over but the trauma of being in that fucking house? Like Richie's dad wasn't around right? I would argue that's almost better than whatever the fuck Donna was doing.

There's so much to explore there. Add in the stuff while Carmy was away with the fuck face chef and oh Lord this boy needs help.

Do I think Carmy is in a place like Mikey was? No, but not taking care of yourself is a form of self harm and that boy does not even know how to spell self care.

I feel like Richie would better understand and be very aware of those things. They're always yelling at each other but Carmy usually has like a meltdown of some type after. Maybe Carmy hates when someone's close behind him in the kitchen because it makes him think of fuck face chef. Richie clocking in on that and going out of his way to discreetly move people around Carmy quick or to place himself between Carmy and someone else if they have to be behind him. Because if Carmy would let anyone see all the little, broken, scared parts of him it would be Richie.

And possessive, protective Richie who picks up on all these little flinches, self deprecating remarks, the lack of self care, or general depression and putting all the pieces into a picture that he does not like. I think he'd pick it all up and make sure anything that may trigger Carmy is taken care of, within reason, and subtly do things to help or make things easier, all while Carmy is oblivious but also realizing he isn't as stressed as he usually is. And Richie seems very pleased with himself lately.

**I rambled again, sorry. I just love actually having someone to talk to about this pairing ♥️

you’re correct! something that really irked me before s2 came out was the mass richie misinterpretation where everyone thought he was fundamentally a bad person with a few good moments/interactions as opposed to vice versa. the way richie treats carmy is a testament to their closeness but also probably to how estranged they became since carmy left home, when we’re introduced to richie in the pilot he’s visibly very warm and friendly with everyone else in the kitchen (except for fak and syd who are outsiders that carmy chooses to bring in) and is seen being openly affectionate, kissing tina hugging marcus etc etc. richie takes good care of those he cares about and i’m so glad they gave us a glimpse into his dynamic with tiff while she was pregnant because richie was soooooo (biting my fist) i’ve never doubted for a second that he genuinely loved her and i’m glad they showed us them being happy and sweet rather than the deteriorated version of their relationship that probably came after eva was born/mikey’s addiction got worse.

i feel like growing up carmy was relatively sheltered in a way? probably naturally shy and quiet and introverted even when he was younger and in spite of all the chaos in his family i really feel like he was spoiled lol or at least comparatively. especially with the comment richie made to sydney about always being nagged about being careful with carmy i can see nat and mikey both being really protective of him. in opposition richie was definitely the one who’d tease and antagonize him the most but he still clearly had that sense of responsibility drilled into him back then because we can see how instinctual his protectiveness is with carmy even now. i’m still trying to decide what his relationship and dynamic with donna was like when he was younger because in fishes we see him successfully placating her when nat couldn’t, i can’t tell if she’s always favored carmy just for being the youngest or if mikey and nat had to shield him from the brunt of her dysfunctionality growing up or maybe even if she was more stable when he was younger and then her mental health deteriorated/behavior became increasingly more erratic over time?

richie’s a person who naturally receives gratification from doing things for others and feeling useful/needed and that probably manifests itself in a much more competitive/spiteful way with carmy because his feelings towards him are just Like That and carmy is also bad at thanking (not other people just richie specifically) him so it’s not quite as transactional as his dynamic with, for example, tiff where he does things for her and is directly rewarded with affection/praise/seeing her happy. i think at first richie just likes the idea of carmy, who he always knew as just some snot nosed loser and is now a well established name in a competitive and high end industry, still being incompetent in some facets and having to depend on richie for something (even if carmy would NEVER ask for his help first or even admit his dependency), likes the idea of having it to hang over his head etc etc (or at least this is how he justifies it to himself) and then with time it gradually morphs back into a Normal relationship where they’re willing to accept that richie takes care of carmy because he cares about him and carmy accepts it because he also cares about him but because they’re them and they’re difficult we have to go the long way around. this is the plot of bcm essentially

lol for sugar and donna’s reactions i think you summed up my own feelings pretty well. i do have a wip fic that sort of includes how that would go with sugar, but in it they actually don’t tell her about “being together” at all (because they do NOT think of themselves as “being together”) and she finds out herself after carmy has been unofficially living with richie for like the past however many months and is understandably pissed. it’s supposed to be a more lighthearted fic so there’s no seriousness to it but i think having known for richie for so long she’s already intimately familiar with all his loser scumbag asshole tendencies as well as carmy’s bullheadedness and notoriously bad decision making but she also knows richie’s good at heart and carmy needs someone like him in his life. especially in light of richie’s apology to her in s2 and effectively amending their relationship (which meant SO much to me) genuinely i can only see her being mad over them not telling her about it rather than anything else. also i love the implication that mikey and richie were also romantically involved before at some point too and donna weaponizing that… when i choose to incorporate past richie/mikey in my carmrich plots the notion that richie is just another one of mikey’s hand me downs or that carmy is simply mikey’s fill in for richie is always one of carmy’s biggest insecurities and i can’t quite decide if donna would be cruel enough to weaponize that against carmy specifically but the thought has delectable angst potential. your mind

i think about richie’s family life a lot like goodness what was going ON in the jerimovich household that donna berzatto could’ve possibly been the better alternative… in reality i think richie’s mother actually just wasn’t present at all, like i think she probably either died or left when he was a child but since sydney’s mother also passed away when she was young and i doubt they’d repeat that plotline for richie i’m guessing it’s the latter. his father also probably wasn’t around very much because of service, but when he was he was probably a dick because he was a cishet (vine boom) white man (vine boom) in the military (VINE BOOM)

and actually it’s funny that you say that because to me i think carmy would definitely have his own vices, like obviously we see his smoking habit but a personal hc of mine i’ve always had for him even before s2 came out is that he has a bad relationship with alcohol—not to the point of addiction or anything like that but i think he probably abused it a little to cope with mikey shutting him out and stopped once it posed the risk of interfering with his work. if you happen to remember in ch2 of bcm there’s a line where carmy mentions richie knowing carmy doesn’t drink—there’s a reason why and that’ll get expanded on in future chapters! but yeah carmy’s form of self harm definitely manifests itself as self neglect. i’ve seen a lot of people write him with an ed but i don’t necessarily think he has one or that his relationship with food is tainted per se i think his eating habits just reflect his own self negligence. carmy definitely is on his way to developing gastritis if he doesn’t have it already

and this is such a sweet scenario for them i love this >_< anything with richie being attentive, considerate, thoughtful, gentle, tender etc etc i am seated immediately… like sometimes i read my own writing and feel like i’m projecting because i want him so unspeakably badly. always nice to see you in my inbox thank you for this anon 🤍

[chibishortdeath]

So uh, first actual post I guess. This is all random dumps (taken from my instagram stories, so they’re formatted weird lol) of symbols and things associated with Simon. I’ve never seen anyone do this for him before so mwahaha I guess I’m the first >:3c. Sorry if this is kinda just a random stream of words, I’m just getting a bunch of thoughts down and anyone can use this information for theories, art, story analysis, and etc later d(^^ ).

The first one is a bunch of possibility important references, primarily things from HoD, but also a couple from OoE and the Hanged Man Skeletons, which are explained a bit more in the second and third image. There’s a couple details I didn’t have the space for oof (T_T ). If I remember correctly, the Smiling Statue is found in the area where the Hellmont enemies are. I’m not exactly sure if there’s any significance to any of the statue placements, but they’re definitely supposed to be a Carmilla and Simon reference, not sure on who the Sage statue is supposed to be tho. My best guess is maybe Death since he’s the other Simon’s Quest boss lol, but the statue really doesn’t look like him. It’s interesting. The Hero statue is very obvious, Juste gets the little flavor text that “that’ll be me someday” kinda referencing how Simon looked up to Christoper in a similar way (yes, Christopher, he is mentioned in the first manual in Japan I believe, I should talk about him eventually). The whole Hellmont/Shimon thing is nuts and idk why it’s just never mentioned again. Like the name Simon has the ability to be a pun in Japanese on “Death Gate/Gates of Death” which is 1. Badass and 2. Ominous as heck! I also didn’t get to fit in the random family heirloom clock that’s in ghost Dracula’s castle for some reason in HoD, the one that has the nice description of having been “bought on the day your grandfather was born” (not an exact quote word for word but yeah). It feels significant to me idk, why would family heirlooms end up in there? Also didn’t mention the Bullet Tip (called “Christopher’s Soul” in Japan), but that one’s interesting too.

Also I wasn’t able to fit the OoE and Simon’s Quest maps on there so I might make a post about comparing them later :3. That Anna girl could be talking about someone else, but considering the similarities and references to Simon and his games in the rest of OoE (which I also should explain if I can manage to get it all together) it’s safe to assume she’s having nightmares of one of Simon’s fights against Dracula. Which is also interesting in the context that her whole side quests revolve around helping her cat protect her from dark spirits.

I know this wiki isn’t the most reliable source, but I’ve seen other sources that claim the skeletons on the outer wall of SotN and DoS (I believe) are supposed to be a reference to the whip swinging in CV4. It’s really interesting that they’d make a reference to Simon by having the skeletons be hung by one foot like the hanged man is commonly depicted considering the meanings behind that card, but since the position of the skeleton is pretty much the same in both, it’s probably intentional.

The last Chronicles one is kinda based on the assumption that these are rose thorns, but when looking up thorn symbolism a looooot of the specific red rose symbolism kinda started to line up really well. Roses also have a lot of religious significance too so I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch to say they were rose thorns. Chronicles is not the first time flowers have been mentioned with Simon in mind however, I couldn’t fit it anywhere, but the Japanese text for the fastest Simon’s Quest ending mentions he “brought full blown flowers in next spring”, just a fun fact tho, idk how to add it into anything here tbh (-w-; ).

What was the most interesting about this dive into random symbols and other details was how often things ended up symbolizing “self sacrifice” and/or “martyrdom”! Usually twice or thrice wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but considering the vague nature of all the Simon’s Quest endings in all versions of the game and the general lack of focus on Simon’s story aspect, it’s pretty cool to see some things that line up like that :O! Also I am thoroughly aware that I might just be looking to deep into things and connecting things and aren’t there, but I don’t really care cause I had fun!!! :3 Anyway, do with this knowledge what you will, hope you guys like it.

[stesierra]

I am not a short story writer. Everything I touch turns into a novel usually. But I did write a short story once! Here it is. YA fantasy I guess. Maybe someday I'll write a novel set in this world. Trigger warning: the MC is a ghost.

The Unfamous Dead

After I die, my house stands empty for three damn years. The iron memorial cross Mom put up outside topples at the end of year one. Year two, it’s nicked by a drunk. He’ll probably batter someone with it. Iron’s heavy.

Year three, the landlord brings a man and woman to tour. All three stare right through me, even when I start dancing. Dancing’s easy when gravity doesn’t affect you and you can’t hurt yourself. Being dead isn’t so bad. I tell myself that a lot, especially when I start thinking about how things could’ve been different. If I hadn’t been so eager to move out at the end of high school. If I’d agreed to stay in a dorm. If someone from our band had stayed the night and noticed the stroke that killed me, a week before classes started.

A stroke’s the last way I’d have chosen to die, if anyone had given me a choice. It’s fast, but it happens to people all the time. If you’re a young man, that’s weird, but no one will remember you for dying that way. You won’t even get an article in the newspaper.

A month after the tour, a family pulls up in a U-haul. The doors open to spill children and houseplants out onto the cracked driveway. There are two kids and two parents, the family traditional. They don’t have a dog. Too bad. If dogs can see ghosts, maybe it could’ve pointed me out to its folks. I’m never going to get famous haunting a bunch of idiots who can’t see me.

The boy is ten, the girl maybe six. His hair is puffy and black and in need of a trim. Hers is done up in cornrows. Their parents let them tear around the yard and ruin the dandelion field until everything’s out of the truck. Then their mom shepherds them inside with a hand on each kid’s shoulder.

The dad leads the way into the house and straight through me, calling back over his shoulder, “Honey, where did we pack the microwave?”

“It’s in the big box with the linens, remember?” The mother steps past me, but the kids stare with rounded eyes. The little girl’s thumb drops from her mouth, and her black eyes glisten alarmingly.

I’ve planned for years to scare the bejesus out of the first idiots to move into the house I haunt. I didn’t expect it to be kids, okay? I make a quick change of plans.

From behind the door of the coat closet, where I take shelter, I have a front row seat for the family’s first fight in their new home. The parents tell their daughter she’s got an overactive imagination and should act more like her brother. The daughter is outraged. The brother, who saw me too, says nothing.

“Scaring children now, David?” asks the angel beside me.

“Shut up,” I say, and press farther back into the closet. Great. She’s here again.

Maybe I should have mentioned before that there’s an angel hanging around here. She showed up a month after I died, bothering me about moving on, and she never left. She’s an odd, colorless creature, more felt than seen. She flickers dimly next me. “This will make you famous? Perhaps you ought to give in and pass on.”

I shake my head. I’m not having this conversation again. I’ve always yearned to be famous, and why should dying change that? But when she gets started, she goes on about me damaging the fabric of reality. She must be immortal, because no one with a time limit would waste years stalking a dead guy.

“Children see things the rest of the world cannot. It will be difficult for you to avoid them while they live here. But there is an easy solution—”

“No, seriously, shut up. I’m not leaving, and you’re not even a real angel, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re the one who called me that,” the angel says.

“Shut up.” Like I said, she’s more felt than seen. When I met her, I named the parts I felt arms and legs and wings because not naming them made me feel even more nuts than just being a ghost already did. She’s got wings. What else could she be?

The upstairs doors clatter open and closed; the kids must be over their tantrums and picking out rooms. I press my insubstantial knees to my chest and wait for nightfall.

That night, the parents settle down with a six-pack and a couple of books. Maybe their cable’s not connected yet. The kids are nowhere to be seen. I creep up the stairs. The angel follows.

The little girl’s shoes are outside the first bedroom door. Down at the end of the hall, another door is shut. I pass through it. There’s not much to see inside. Mom and Dad dragged a bed in and put a sleeping bag down on it, under which the boy is now curled. Music books are piled on the floor next to a disassembled IKEA bookshelf, and a black electronic keyboard lurks in the corner behind the bed. The blinds on the windows are open, and the gibbous moon casts down light that washes the color from everything. Pale and ghostly, I fit right in.

I lean down over the bed. I can feel the angel at my back, watching. I whisper in the boy’s ear, “You know, piano’s for chumps. Forget piano. Guitar is where you want to be.”

The whites of his eyes are vivid against his dark skin. He sits up on the bed and pulls the shirt of his Spider-Man pajamas tight. He sticks out his lower lip and says, “My parents want me to learn piano.”

“You always do what your parents want you to do?”

He straightens then, gaze challenging. “They wouldn’t like me talking to a ghost.”

I take a seat over the bed, cross-legged in the air. The angel is behind me, but he doesn’t see her. “Well, you’re old enough to make your own decisions, aren’t you?” I stick out a hand. “David.”

He reaches out and brushes his fingers through mine. “I’m Anthony.”

***

Anthony is a breath of fresh air, sweeping out the staleness that’s clogged this dump for the last three years. At night, when we talk about bands and music and why piano’s for stiffs, he tells me he’s not afraid of ghosts. Hell yeah, he’s afraid of ghosts. I can tell. I was a ten-year-old boy once, too. I avoid his sister; she’s not any closer to pissing herself at the sight of me than he is, but she doesn’t try to hide it like her brother.a

The kid is a prodigy. He spends hours every day tapping out songs on his keyboard. He writes them himself. If he’d apply himself to a decent instrument — say, a guitar — he could make something out of his life. Black kid songwriter jams with the stars — can’t you see the headlines now? He could be famous. He could make me famous. A ghost that’s your best friend, that’s practically begging for a single, isn’t it? But Anthony doesn’t have a guitar, and no one ever got famous by having a piano solo written about them.

Anthony gives his eighth piano concert and turns thirteen before a brightly wrapped pear-shaped present with a long handle shows up under the Christmas tree. It’s acoustic. Cheap-ass grandparents. Up in his room after Christmas dinner, as he fingers the strings experimentally, I mutter, “It’s somewhere to start, at least.”

Anthony glances down at the guitar and babbles some shit about the model and make and how it cost five hundred dollars.

“Whatever. It doesn’t have a plug.”

The angel makes herself known then. Her face is set in a frown. “Do you persist in trying to make the child over into yourself? You are no better than his parents, who you complain are pushing him into music too young and denying him a childhood.”

I ignore her, like usual when Anthony’s around. He thinks I’m weird enough without me talking to people he can’t see.

Couldn’t see. Now, his head turns toward her. He sets the guitar gently down on the bed beside him. “I love the piano, and I only do as many concerts as I want. I’m thirteen, not a kid. What the hell are you? Why are you in my room?”

The angel vanishes.

Anthony clambers off the bed, staring at the empty spot where she was. “David, why was there an alien in my room? Where did it go? Why does it know you? Do you really complain about Mom and Dad?”

“An alien? She looked like an alien to you?”

“It didn’t look human, like you.”

“She didn’t look like an angel?”

“It sure didn’t look like any I’ve ever heard of.” He hesitates and picks up his new guitar to cradle against his chest. “That’s not what you really are, is it?”

I put my hands up. “Whoa. Of course not. I’m dead David, your buddy. Look, I’m going to go get that thing out of our house. Okay? I’ll go and do that.”

I don’t give him a chance to argue. I can move fast when I want to.

The angel is downstairs, standing with wings and arms folded, dourly watching Natasha play her video games. The girl doesn’t notice; she stopped seeing me years ago.

I stalk up to the angel. “What the hell was that?”

Her eyes are colorless and too large. “I told you, David. You are damaging reality by staying here.”

“Because he could see you? How is that damaging reality? You’re real, aren’t you? You’re really here, just like I am.”

“The Intangible and Tangible are separate realms, David. You damage that separation. If you hadn’t stayed, Anthony would have outgrown seeing the Intangible outside of dreams, just as his sister did.”

“If they’re so separate, why can he see me at all?”

“Humans filter what they see through their limited comprehension. They can comprehend ghosts more easily than other things. Creatures of greater power are beyond them. Due to your meddling, the boy may see me now, but he cannot see me as I truly am.”

“Can I?”

She doesn’t answer. On the other side of the room, Natasha punches out a virtual bad guy, and “K.O!” flashes bright across the screen.

The angel’s face has never held much expression, but now her still features seem secretive. I say, “I’m not doing anything to reality, am I? You’re hiding. Your people, whatever they are — which is not angels, by the way — are hiding, and I’m helping him see you!”

The angel turns towards the frost-painted front window. I can see through her to the boots and mittens in a pile by the front door. Her voice is as cold as her face. “You have your way, then, David Fundley. I hope that you come to realize you are ruining his life before it is too late. It is already too late for yours.”

With that last passive-aggressive comment, the angel is gone.

***

Two years pass. I rejoice in living — ha ha — in an angel-free space. Anthony thinks I’m a hero for driving the “alien” away. I bask in his admiration like a hideous lizard on a sunny rock. Sure, she left on her own, but he doesn’t need to know that. Anthony shoots up half a foot when puberty hits him hard, and he gets real quiet while his voice breaks. I tell him after school, as he clings to his piano and plays away his stresses, that at least he’s not a singer.

Three days after his fifteenth birthday, I try to convince him to take up singing.

“If you just play piano and guitar, you’ll never front a band,” I tell him.

Anthony keeps playing Rachmaninoff’s third concerto, his hands rippling across the keys like a crab caught skittering and tumbling in the surf. “I’m a concert soloist. I’m not going to have a band.”

“Well, not if you keep on the way you have been.”

He ignores me. I let him alone.

Downstairs, the windows are thrown open to the spring afternoon. His parents aren’t home; Anthony’s old enough for them to trust him with the house. A robin sings, its lilting voice slow and soothing compared to the pounding intensity of Rachmaninoff. Strange, there’s usually more than one of them. I step up to the window screen. A smell hits me, sour and sickly, like an old bag of lettuce rotting at the bottom of a refrigerator. I grimace. Has some kid been smearing dog shit on the siding? Has some animal crawled under the window and died?

I walk around the living room. The same death smog comes in all the windows. What is this? I turn back to the first window, and the shock of what I see hits me like another blood vessel bursting in my brain.

There’s a thing on the other side, staring at me and drooling. It’s winged, like the angel, but it has too many wings and too many eyes, eyes that pop from every gnarled knuckle. And believe me, with as many limbs as this crawling monstrosity has, it has a lot of knuckles.

“Oh shit!”

It leans its big, snouty face towards the window, then jumps up to cling to the side of the building with claws the length of my hand. For a moment, all I can see is its belly. Then it tears the screen off, and it is too big to fit through but it does.

I run. The house has never felt so much of a trap as it does now. I scream up the stairs, “Anthony! Get out the window! Run! Run run run run!”

The doors to the downstairs rooms are open. There’s no basement, no hidden crawlspace, nowhere to go but up. I hit the stairs and pray Anthony’s already thrown the fire ladder out the window and climbed to safety. I pray that someone has left a door closed upstairs and the monster can’t tear hinges off as easy as it can screens.

The monster stampedes up the steps behind me.

I reach the top of the stairs. All the doors stand open.

“David! In here!”

I don’t waste time despairing that Anthony is an idiot and couldn’t climb out a window to save his fucking life. I jump into his room, and just as the monster comes up the last of the steps, Anthony slams the door in its face.

“You were supposed to get out,” I snarl at him.

The monster scrabbles at the door, a sound like twenty dogs on a hardwood floor, and then the handle turns. The door flies open, and the monster lunges inside. Anthony meets it with an empty guitar case to the head, but the case bounces like rubber. Then the monster’s on me, claws sunk deep. Dying hurt worse, I tell myself as its furnace-breath sears my insubstantial face. Dying hurt more.

I’m lying.

For an eternity, there’s nothing but claws in my soul and rotten breath in my face and Anthony’s screams in my ears. Then, without warning, the monster releases me, and I shoot back out of its grasp like a greased eel.

I push myself up on the floor and find the monster’s head level with mine. I scramble away, but it doesn’t move. A shining sword is run through what passes for its spine. As I watch, the monster collapses into gooey black liquid that puddles across everything. A moment later, it dries up and flakes away, leaving nothing behind but a terrible smell of decay.

A translucent hand stretches out to pluck the sword from the floor. The angel is back.

I meet the angel downstairs after Anthony’s finished throwing up. Her sword is nowhere to be seen now. “I told you that staying could have terrible consequences, David,” she says.

I just nod. I want to ask what that was, but I know she won’t tell. “So. Was what Anthony saw there filtered through his own limited comprehension, or did he see the same sick thing I did?”

She cocks her head. “He saw a monster, yes.”

“It wanted to eat me.”

“For some creatures, a loose soul is a tender meal.”

“Would it have gone after the family after it chowed down on me?”

“Perhaps. The boy, most likely, because he could see it.”

Because he tried to defend me. I stare at the wall. “If I left now, would he outgrow seeing supernatural things?”

The angel’s eyes are eager. “With nothing to remind him, he would become normal. It would protect him.”

“Let me think about it.” I turn and walk away, and the angel doesn’t follow. I don’t need to think. I just need to be away from her.

It wasn’t Anthony seeing ghosts that brought the monster — the demon — down on this house. It was me. It’s always been me that brought strange things to this house: angels, demons. Acoustic guitars.

Anthony’s outside of his room, trying to sand the claw marks out of the door with his dad’s tools. I tell him I’m leaving.

“You can’t leave,” Anthony says.

“I have to.” I remember what grief felt like when I was alive and had a throat to clench, eyes to sting. “I’m not calling anything else like that down on you. Okay? But you have to promise me something.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Promise me you’ll always remember. There are things in the world that are not normal, and they want to feed you the lie that they don’t exist. Pretend you can’t see them, but don’t forget. If you forget, you’ll be their sheep, like everyone else.”

“You could stay and watch my back.”

“No, I can’t. I’m dead. You have to go out and play piano concertos. I’m stuck to this building until I decide it’s time to leave. That’s now, I think.”

Letting go must be easy. It’s not an action, really. It’s stopping. Stopping the strain to cling to the world with my fingerprints, to retain the memory of a face, of hands.

I hate long goodbyes. I let go.

I’m nothing more than a shadow of mist when a last thought comes to me. “And if you ever get a chance to bust humanity out of its brain-washing, promise me you’ll take it! That would be awesome!”

I don’t know if he heard me — there wasn’t much me left to hear — but he waves a scribble-covered piece of paper. It might be a song about me, or a grocery list for all I know. I pretend it’s the former as I step into nothing, into all the potential afterlives in the universe, and wait to see what comes next.

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@palebdot

@Hyba

@da-na-hae

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Oh Bexxx, my dear, you KNOW how bad we all got it for Sam right now after that viewing of You Might, so could you PLEASE bestow upon to us some good ol' Sammy boy? I got some prompts that I know would fit him so well. “I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.” , “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.” , and, “I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it's your moans.” He just makes me FEEL things and I can't help myself, but please go nuts! I need soft smut asap! Thank you, queen~

Okay man this took too long for me to get to for fucking real but here it is! A full out, massive request filled for the BIFF! So I wrote this all last night and edited it tonight, I hope you fucking looove it. I have wanted to do this fic for like fucking ever. There is this movie I totally love called, “YPF” or “Young People Fucking.” It is a comedy that follows several couples who fuck on the same night, going from pre-lude and foreplay all the way through to afterglow and one of the couples are two life time best friends and the dude, Matt, gives me MASSIVE Sam energy. I have been craving doing a fic with him based off that movie so I hope you all enjoy this! Major credit to said movie for all the inspo and some of what must be my fave dialogue in any movie, (Shoutout to Kris you totally inspired me just as like a person with your attitude, speech pattern and confidence, what a real one.) 

Let’s stop wasting time and let's get into it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 8.4K. Sam Wescott X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Best Of Friends To Fuck Buddies. Mentions Of Cheating. Shit Talking. Banter. Teasing. Making Out. Blow Jobs. Pre-Mature Ejactulation. Hand Jobs. Cunnlingus. Vaginal Sex. Intense Feelings. Crushes. Begging. Creampie.

—

It’s Making Me Freak Out!

—

You had been friends with him longer than you had been friends with basically anyone in your life at this point. He wasn’t your first friend but some people, just like how people have a tendency to do, had left your life, he however was still here, someone you could count and rely on. So naturally, when your years-long relationship ended, with a bag stuffed full of the belongings that had been kept at your now ex’s apartment you showed up on his doorstep, confessing as soon as the door opened, “We broke up.” 

He was nothing but understanding, doorknob abandoned in favour of a rare hug between the pair of you as he said, “I always fucking hated that guy.” You naturally returned the hug with both arms with something that was a mix of a sob and a laugh, “Yeah he fucking sucks.”

He pulled back, hands still on your arms as he was saying, “RIght?! That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” Samuel Justin Wescott could always make you laugh more than anybody else. 

You ended up on his couch, favoured movies and too many snacks and empty beer bottles on the coffee table as you recounted the whole thing and got it all out of your system. You bitched and vented and he was nothing but supportive in that very him sort of way. You crashed there that night and as days bled into weeks and then months you started to do significantly better and how much Sam was there for you definitely helped you along. A few months after said difficult break up you had a growing concern gnawing at your brain stem that refused to leave but it was nuts, like the very idea of it was insane but you found it hard to let it go and as time continued to wear on it started seeming less crazy and more logical, it was downright genius. 

And so one Friday, a few drinks into a hangout with Sam you said, “I think we should fuck.”

The next sound was him choking, followed by a cough, maybe stating that so casually with no lead up when he was mid-sip wasn’t the smartest move. A hand on his throat as he struggled to regain his breathing, his other hand setting down the beer bottle so he wouldn’t drop it, finally getting down a big enough breath to gasp out, “Wha-what?!”

You take another sip, trying to play is cool, a small shrug before repeating yourself verbatim, “I think we should fuck.” 

Taking that moment to meet his gaze made you fight back a laugh, looking insanely shocked, mouth agape. Now it was your turn to say, “What?”

“What do you mean what?! My best friend of like I don’t even know how long just said we should fuck the same way someone might suggest a new restaurant to try for dinner! And I’m supposed to be like, normal or act like this isn’t-” He was rambling, you cut him off, “Isn’t what man?”

“Isn’t a huge fucking thing to just throw out there so casually!”  He was seriously close to freaking out, spiralling hard and trying to brush it off and so you said, “Oh my God, forget it, nevermind!”

“No, no we aren’t going to! I know you, there is a reason for this, something is up-” You throw up both hands, “Nothing is up! I never should have said something, shoulda known you would have-”

“Would have what?” He asked and you sighed, not wanting to say it and he asked, leaning closer, elbows on the table, “Well?” So you finally said, “Gone all Wescott about it.”

“Gone all-oh my fucking God, you have so much faith in me!” He sounded exasperated but it was much more joking, much more light and so you smile and say, “Am I wrong?”

“What?” He asked and you couldn’t help but say, with a raise of your eyebrows, “Is ‘what’ the special word of the day or something?”  

“Answer the question!” He pressed and so you said, “Am I wrong for thinking you wouldn’t be able to handle this without freaking out?”

He opened his mouth to retort but instead picked up his beer and took another sip and you laughed, “Because you totally DID just freak out. Or to quote myself earlier you went all-”

“Went all Wescott, yeah, yeah, okay you aren’t wrong, but still! Ow.” He replied and you reached out, a touch of his hand before saying, “I’m sorry for so rightfully categorising you.”

“Such a bitch.” He sighed with a roll of his eyes, it was fond and you laughed before saying, “And you’re such a pussy but what else is new?” 

“Ooo you treat me so nice.” He teased and then followed up, “So why do you think we should fuck exactly?” 

Another sigh from you, the heaviest so far, “Okay so, you remember, my ex, obviously.”

“Yes, the shit-bag, the man who’s name we dare not speak, of course.” He responded and you said, “Right, exactly. Well it’s been like months and whatever and I have been thinking really hard about where I went so wrong, not just like this relationship, but like all of them cuz like every guy I have ever been with cheated on me-”

Now you were the one who was rambling and spiralling, you took a deep breath to steady yourself, “-and as it is you are like the only man I can stand to look at right now.” 

“Really?” He said with a quirk of his brow, seemingly impressed and glad that is the case, you smile yourself before you say “Yes, you are. So I have been thinking that I just need to fuck, just get it out of my system or I am gonna fall for some fucking asshole who is just gonna cheat on me again and then I will be right back where I started. Here. All sad and single and shit.” 

He takes another long drink before saying, “So, you get so pent up and cock hungry that your asshole radar goes screwy and you end up fucking the first attractive dude you find, who usually ends up being a total dick?” 

“Calling me cock hungry AND the hypothetical dude in this scenario an asshole and a dick in the same breath? Impressive Wescott, but yes I think that is what is sooo, if I fuck you, in theory, I can hold out until I met like a normal, non-cheating-non-jerk of a guy. For once.” Another sip before tacking on, “Present company excluded, obviously.”

Content that you had laid it all out there and he nodded along, “I mean it makes sense. Just, are you sure that is what this is?”

“Pretty fucking sure.” You affirm. He asks, tone unsure, “And you want it to be me?”

“Yeah! I mean again, you don’t suck and you’re the only dude I can even stand at present. And we have known each other foreverrr, I can trust you.”  He seemed to no longer be freaking out and considering it, this seemed to be turning around, going surprisingly well, better than you could have hoped for honestly, he wasn’t running out the door with a lame excuse.

“So what do you say, Wescott? You wanna help out your ol buddy? My future relationships depend on you screwing my brains out.”  You asked, holding a hand out. 

He exhales amusedly through his nose, “Jeeze no pressure right?” 

A hand runs through his short hair and you could tell by now his answer, you wait, a wide grin as he finally said, “Okay, okay yes, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah you will?!” You asked and he said with a laugh, “Yes, I’ll let you fuck my brains out so you can meet a normal non-jerky guy.” 

He took your hand and you shook on it. Both of you broke eye contact with a laugh over how ridiculous this was, you said on an exhale with a shake of your head, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I don’t fucking know anymore.” He said laughing along and the topic was shelved for that evening, happy at how well this went.  

So you both had next Wednesday off so you thought that Tuesday night would be as good as any so you find yourself at his apartment and soon enough on his couch. Bottle of liquor and two shot glasses on the coffee table in front of you. 

It seemed so easy last Friday but that was four days ago and when talking about it you’d already been hanging for hours and had multiple drinks in your system, it was all jokey and just very you guys, it was all in theory. 

But now you were here, about to actually do it and it wasn’t like you hadn’t entertained the idea ever but thinking about it and actually fucking your best friend of like twenty ish years was a totally different kettle of fish. There was a brief conversation over a strong drink when you came in but you didn’t want to waste time, could feel the nerves and tension radiating off of him and yourself.

You and he were facing each other, both sitting side saddle on the couch, intending to start this the only way you knew how, to get one of the most awkward parts out of the way, your first kiss with him.

“Don’t be lame-” You started and he said after clearing his throat, almost defensively, “I won’t. Now, fuck off.”

“No pussying out.” You said firmly.

“I’m not, will you just-” You cleared your own throat, cutting him off and saying, “Alright. Come on. Okay?”

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

A pause, both of you in the same position, you say,  “You’re not moving.”

“Well, neither are you.” He fired back and you looked him up and down, “Jesus Christ man up, would you?”

He sputtered out, “I’m fucking…I’m closer to you than you are to me.”

Eyebrows knitted together as you respond to him with a question, “How the fuck does that work?”

He looked you up and down before saying, “Cuz I’m doing some moving and you’re not doing anything-” He calls it moving, you’d call it nervous fidgeting. You cut in, talking over him in the middle of his sentence, “You’re an idiot.”  And he continued on with his thought “-you’re just sass-bossing me-” Finishing with a very mature retort of, “-you’re an idiot.”

“Shut up.” You fire back and he shh’s you. 

All of this back and forth is totally just posturing because you and he are so nervous, reverting back to childish banter and barbs to try and hide how much this was, the inherent vulnerability and worry involved that this would fuck everything up. Even though Sam didn’t say it, he didn’t have to, you knew him and also had that same thought yourself, that if this doesn’t go well it could spoil everything. It could potentially ruin a lifelong friendship. You were trying to put the worry out of your head as much as you were sure he was too. 

A move of your head, you start to lean in as does he, “Don’t be a pussy.” You remind playfully and he says with a half nod, tone unsure but eyes determined, “I’m-I got it.”

You didn’t stop your forward momentum and neither did he, and one moment there is still space between you and the next, there is none, your lips touch and holy shit you are kissing Sam Wescott. His lips are soft, way softer than you ever thought they could be, he was so warm too, and fuck, he knew what he was doing. It wasn’t like you ever thought Sam would be a bad kisser but you realise while this was happening that you don’t think that you ever thought about kissing him seriously.

Your mouth moved on instinct, kissing him back nearly immediately, moving with him, his lips parted first, his bottom lip under yours, a slip of his tongue that made a rush of arousal wash over you from him doing it first, and with confidence you hadn’t counted on from him. You returned his efforts further, your tongue making contact with his and you swear you could almost feel him tense, you leaned closer, deepened it slightly and so did he. The heat grew considerably for another ten seconds before it became too much. You ended up pulling away first, moving to sit back on the couch properly, feet on the cushion below you, knees swaying back and forth, he moved, sitting back on the other side of the couch, hands up as his elbows sat on the backrest of the couch.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, thighs tensing, trying to grapple with the immediacy of how much that one kiss turned you on and he agreed, a nod as he said, “Yup.” 

You snuck a look at him, the way he had one leg crossed over the other, ankle rested on his knee, a thick swallow and you were sure he was hard even with the view of him obscured. 

You took a moment, trying to calm down, you really hadn’t been expecting one dumb kiss to get to you this badly, you needed to get a hold of yourself and seemingly so did he.

It had been weirdly quiet for too long now, normally when it was you two together you always had stuff to talk about so this was, strange to say the least. Then again you and Sam had never kissed each other before. Another drink was had, conversation forced, you weren’t gonna let this fail so early, not when you had barely gotten started. 

You take a deep breath, pick up your shot glass and down it, the burn feels good, emboldens you once more and you say as you sit back, “I think I’m drunk, you?”

“Maybe we waited too long.”  He said and you replied, “Maybe we should have another shot.” You lean forward once more, pouring another for yourself. 

You take it, knocking it back as he starts to say, “Ah I’m just worried about things going wacky.”

Shaking your head as you swallow the burn of the alcohol you hum, “Nuh-uh.” And he asks, “Do you think this is the smart thing to do?”

“All right, Wescott-” A hand on the backrest you turn to face him once again, sitting sideways on the couch you say, “I understand what you’re feeling, but listen up, cause I ain’t saying this twice. We all know my reasons for doing this but this is about you too and you’ve been stuck on some whore-bitch who dumped you-”

“Don’t call her a whore-bitch.” He interjected with a roll of his eyes and you didn’t stop, still going off, “-who dumped you like, seven months ago and treated you like shit for two months-” 

“Three months and two days-” He supplied and you groaned, hands reaching out, one on his shoulder, the other on his chest as you emphatically said, “Oh, you need to get laid!”

He coughs before agreeing, “Okay yes.”

“Very, very badly!” You insist and he looks back over to you, “Yes, I get it.” 

Onward you continued, “And instead of worrying about this, that, and the other thing, just focus on the fact that your balls need emptying.”

A raise of his eyebrows, eyes wider as you say, “Immediately. And that’s it. That’s all you think about because that’s all this is.” 

He cocks his head to the side, taking in what you said, you think it might be sinking in, a nod but then he says, “I just don’t want to jeopardise anything.”

“Okay look.” You say, putting a stop to his next ramble of trying to talk himself out of this with his neurotic worries, “Sometimes it’s something. Sometimes it’s meaningful. Sometimes it’s caressing faces and fingers intertwined and whispering little secrets in ears.” 

You say it softly, emotion and warmth colouring your tone as you look directly into his eyes, your hand still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat below your palm, firm, steady, quickening. 

A small pause before you then say. “And sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.”

His smile broadens, neither of you looking away as you expound, your hand lifting off of him, “It’s grinding your shit and emptying your balls and falling asleep right after you come and that’s what you and I are gonna do to one another because that’s what friends are for.” 

His expression is hilarious, smile had gotten dimmer, eyes showing he was trying to follow along but was confused, adorable honestly, but you don’t let it trip you up, a clap as you say, “So stop fucking up the game plan, down that shot, because right after that your old buddy here-” Pointing to yourself, “-is going to blow you.”

He breaks eye contact, shocked once again, almost as if it just hit him that this was really going to happen, you both seriously doing this, he turns back as he says with quiet disbelief,  “Uhm…You’re going to-?”

You made a mimic the motion of sucking a dick before mouthing the words, “Blow you.” 

His head turns once more, looking at the shot you poured minutes ago on the coffee table before sitting up, leaning forward, he picks it up and downs it, placing the glass back on the table, wrists rested on his knees and you sit in the same way to match him. You ask, “You ready?”

He hums with a nod, “Buzzed?” 

“Yeah-huh.” He agrees.

“Trim that shit up like we talked about?” You asked and he said, “Uh-yeah, I already told you I do that on my own-” 

“Okay.” You clap again and then turn to him, “High five.”

He does so immediately and without complaint as he always did when you offered one.

You scoop up the shot glasses and take them to the kitchen, he follows, bottle in hand, the shot must have worked because he asked, “What happened to you blowing me immediately, post shot?”

“Sorry I thought I should put these away because I know how your over thinking, worried ass gets, I would hate for you to be unable to get it up because you can’t stop thinking about dirty dishes on the coffee table.” You tease and he scoffs as he bottle set on the counter, “Again, the faith you have in me is astounding.”

You turn, push off the sink and come forward, your hands on his shoulders and you lean up, not dignifying him with a response instead choosing to kiss him again, sudden and deep, pressing him to the kitchen island. He returned the kiss, your tongue slipped into his mouth first this time and you could taste the shot still lingering as you were sure he could as well. Your head is swimming and you aren’t certain it isn’t from the alcohol, you break away, staring up at him, his cheeks were flushed, again you aren’t certain it isn’t from the drink on his part. 

“Who says I can’t blow you in the kitchen, Wescott?” You challenge as your hands slide off his shoulders and down his arms. 

You had seen Sam shirtless many times, especially at summer camp, but actually feeling him now, Jesus, seeing and feeling is a totally different thing. He had some good strength, you couldn’t wait for him to put it to use. Your hands find the top of his jeans and you start to unbutton them and he responds, “Uh no one I suppose, I mean you can blow me wherever you want to really, I’m not picky-”

You press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, a smile on your face as you say, “Hey Wescott?”

“Yeah?” He asks as you unzip his pants, then your hands catch the bottom hem of your top and you take off your shirt, you toss it aside, revelling in his wide eyes at the view of you just in your jeans and bra. You say fondly as you begin to sink to your knees, “Shut up.” 

“Okay, shutting up.” He nodded, looking down as your fingers hook in his belt loops, you lean in, your cheek to his bulge, lips catching on his zipper as you rub against him before starting to tug his pants down his hips. 

He lets you do so and then he can feel your mouth on him, through the last layer of his underwear, warm lips and even warmer breath has him putting his hands back, gripping the edge of the kitchen island. A few kisses are placed along his clothed shaft, his pants around his knees now and your hands slip back up his legs, nails dragging teasingly before you reach for the waistband of his briefs. You take a deep breath for courage before pulling them down and for the first time you see his dick, very hard and less than two inches from your face. 

“Holy shit.” You utter, lips parted as your eyes drag over every exposed inch of him.

He looks concerned, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just fuck, dude, you didn’t tell me you were packing heat!” He laughed, “What? When was I supposed to bring that up in our friendship? Hey bud, awesome cookies you brought to the bake sale, also I have a massive dick.” He added on after another shared laugh, “Also is it really that big?”

You scoff, a roll of your eyes, “Oh my God only dudes with big dicks say shit like ‘is it really that big?’, fucking, of course it is!” You wrap your hand around the base and he inhales sharply. “I mean look at this! Look how much of it is still left after I get my whole hand around it!”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip before saying, “Yeah, uhm, shit, you’re right, it does look big in your hand.” 

“Duh dude.” You laugh before leaning in, honestly excited for this, the excitement and want far outweighing the nerves, wanting to wow him. “Get ready for me to blow your mind.” 

Your taunt makes him laugh, it’s breathy and nervous, “Yeah I’m ready for you to blow my dick, the jury is still out on my mind.” 

You might have bragged about your dick sucking skills previously in your friendship and a running joke was him never believing you, and you were about to prove him how wrong he was. You start easily enough, a lick from midway down his shaft, up the underside of him before your tongue swirls around the tip and you hear his breath catch from above you. A small smirk on your face and he is about to say something but you shut him up by slipping the head of his dick into your mouth, lips wrapping right around that sensitive ridge and you suck deeply. He gasped out, “Oh fuck-”

Your hand is still locked around the base as you pull off of him with a loud pop. You are looking up at him, hand beginning to stroke him, using your own spit as lube as you ask with a faux innocent smile, “You okay up there Wescott?”

He nods and says on an exhale, “Yeah, yeah, M’ fine.” You smile wider as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, “Good.”

You lean back in, slipping him back into your mouth, taking more of him, sliding him in deeper and he grips the island harder, knuckles going almost white as he tries to contend with the feeling of how wet and hot your mouth is. You bob up and down, hand moving in tandem, tongue running up the underside of his shaft, flicks and licks, messy open mouthed kisses, quick pace, lots of sucking, allowing spit and drool to leak out, getting sloppy with it, just as he had previously confessed to liking. The amount he tensed when you latched onto and paid heavy attention to his balls made you smile against him.

This was done all while you were looking up at him. He was very much not looking at you though, heavy breathing, nervous fidgeting and you pull off once more, “Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yeah, yes I am, why?” He asked, seemingly out of breath and caught off guard by your question, “Just, you aren’t looking at me and are real fidgety-”

“You keep looking at me.” He admitted, eyes darted to you and away again quickly. You accuse, “You said you like when girls look up at you during head!” 

“Yeah but it’s you! And so it’s not just like it’s a girl doing it, it’s all, ‘yeah that’s my dick in her mouth’ but when it’s you it’s like ‘oh there’s my best friend with my dick in her mouth’ and it makes me freak out-” He rambles and you laugh breathlessly.

“Wescott, everything makes you freak out! Just try to relax and focus on how good it feels, alright?” He nodded, a deep breath, the reassurance helps, he agrees, “Yeah, totally, how good it feels-”

And you had taken him back in before he finished speaking, his sentence breaks off with a choked off moan, his eyes closing and you feel a sense of pride as well as a drip in your panties. 

He sounded really good when he moaned. It pushes you on. You pulled out your best moves, you pushed him harder into the kitchen island with one hand while your other stroked and you sucked deeply, taking as much of him as you could, you gagged and he seemed to like that. His dick twitched in your mouth, his hips rocked forward involuntarily, a groan broke out of your name and you did it again. Take him deep, gag, choke yourself a little, you pick up the pace as you deep throat and then he is squirming, all of a sudden his fists clenching and unclenching, “Shit, wait, hold on I think, I uh, ahhhn, need a second-” 

You felt him throbbing in your hand and on your tongue and you stroked faster, a long suck with a moan against his shaft and he still tries to stop you, his eyes back open, looking down at you. Seeing you looking up at him with those, ‘fuck me eyes’ did not help at all on holdong off, a hurried moan of, “Wait, fuck, I said wait! Ohhh Goddd.”

He couldn’t stop you and so he couldn’t stop it and he came, hot and thick ropes spilling into your mouth and you don’t stop either. You slowed down slightly, not wanting to overstimulate him, doing what you could to draw out his pleasure, he was still holding onto the counter, weak in the knees, trying not to lose his balance from how hard he was cumming, buried well more than halfway inside you. 

Big swallows, taking every single drop without issue until his dick finally stopped twitching and his hand was on your head, pushing you back and you allowed it. You sit back on your heels, the back of your hand wipes your mouth and you say, “Wow Wescott, I thought you’d last longer than that! What was that? Three minutes or four?”

“Fuck you!” He huffed and you said with a wide grin, “I mean you were supposed to but now-”

He was still catching his breath as he defending himself, “Gimmie a minute! I can go again.”

“Oh can you?” A taunt he clearly took offense to and he said, “Yes! I can, fucking, come on.” He reached down, one hand snagged his pants and underwear, he pulled them back up, his other hand hooking under your bicep and he hauled you up onto your feet. He dragged you along quickly, “Awe I must have touched a nerve! Where are you taking me?”

“To the bedroom.” He stated firmly as you were now in the hallway, “What are we gonna do in there? Cuddle till you can get it up again?”

He pushed you into the bedroom, hard, and you fell onto his bed. He flicked the light on the nightstand on, “No, I’m going to eat you out till I’m hard enough to fuck you so I can wipe that smug fucking smirk off your face and shut you up.”

The show of strength dragging you here, pushing you on the bed, the promise he just made, you tried to hide how hot it was. You got the distinct feeling he could back his word up and you hoped against hope that feeling was correct. 

“You think you can do that?” You taunted, weaker than you meant to.

He was starting to take off your jeans, his own still open and low on his hips, he assured you, “I know, I can do that.” 

A pulse of your clit and hard swallow and with a nod, holding eye contact with Sam you said, “Fucking prove it Wescott.” 

Denim was tossed aside, and he took his shirt off, you assumed in classic Sam fashion trying to make it even because now you were in just your underwear and nothing else. He climbed on top of you, he kissed you, hard just like you had previously but also in the most him way possible. It was way too all consuming, hard not to get lost in, practically melting below him way too fast. His mouth soon dragged down, kisses over your jaw and your throat, his other hand sliding underneath, gripping the back of your neck and you gasped out, “What are you doing?”

“You said you liked it when guy’s kissed your neck like this?” He murmured, his tongue ran over your pulse point, teeth scraped as his nails bit in slightly, a light bite that had your back arching, “I-I do but ahh-”

“But what?” He asked teasingly, “Isn’t this just about getting off?” He had used that tone when you had both joked around countless times before but now with him on top of you and kissing your neck it made heat pulse inside of you.

“It is-” You assure, trying to ignore how hot you had gotten and how wet you were and he said, one of his legs slotting between yours, knee pressing against your clothed slit, “Well doesn’t this get you off? Or were you lying to me all those times we talked before?”

You shake your head, his other hand that wasn’t preoccupied with your neck, finds your hip, he makes you grind on his thigh and you moan, “I wasn’t lying.”

“Then stop whining and enjoy it.” He said easily as he started to slide down your body, lips pressing more kisses as he went. Soon he is on his knees on the floor, your panties are being tugged off, throwing them away and your legs are resting over his shoulders. 

You should feel some nerves being so exposed before him but you mostly feel excited he is seeing you like this. Any of those small remaining nerves were pushed away when he breathed out, “Oh wow.” 

“Wow?” You asked, his hands made contact, strong and firm resting on your mons, thumbs stroke down, parting you open, getting a good look, “Yeah, just, fuck, you’re soaked.” 

He admitted and you bit your bottom lip. You try to conjure a response but none comes as you feel him closer, warm breath on your wet folds, his mouth doesn’t waste time. 

His lips touched down on your clit and once again you are hit with the sheer softness and warmth of him. You suck down a deep breath as he lifts up, another kiss placed just right, a few mouth come and then his tongue slipping out to slide over you and fuck, you were unprepared for the jolt of pleasure that hits your system. 

He didn’t tease you about his oral skills before getting started because, well, he knew he didn’t need to. He knew you heard the rumours that flew around at Camp Clear Vista, he knew you know what people say about him and his mouth. There had been many jokes made before about it, you not believing him already made abundantly clear throughout your friendship and within two minutes he was proving you wrong. He warms you up beautifully, open mouthed kisses, lips and tongue paying attention everywhere, running through every nook and cranny he could find, was impossibly attentive. As if he knew just when it was needed he switched to focusing more where you needed, tongue ran up and over your clit, a flick that made you moan, thighs tensing around his head. He hums out, “Good?”

A shaky nod at the rush of sensation the vibration provided, “Yeah, fuck, s’ good Wescott.”

Another hum, he seemed happy to hear that and doubled up. He found a rhythm that made your breathing extremely uneven. Your very ready and swollen clit between his lips, tongue circling it with a steady and even pressure that was currently melting your mind. 

How was he this good? Where the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like this? 

He ate you out like he was starving for it, like you tasted incredible and your satisfaction was the most important thing. It was more than that too however, you got the real impression he wasn’t doing this out of obligation, he was doing it because he really, really enjoyed it. You had been with guys who made claims of getting off on you getting off but it always turned out to be just that, pretty words and claims made in order to get into your panties, any upfront effort did not last once their dick entered the equation, but you had the feeling Sam was the genuine article. 

You looked down and you understood what he meant previously when you were sucking his dick. Seeing him being the one between your thighs, eyes closed in concentration, doing this was a lot to handle, mainly, the view of it was way too hot, it made your cunt clench around nothing, leak more and your clit throb. You had to force your eyes closed as you tried to forget it was Sam who was making you feel like this.

It shocked you how fast he got you to the edge with only his mouth. You weren’t prepared at all for this, you were shivering, so close, panting and trying to come up with how to warn him, you had a thought of getting him to stop, taking a breather, switch to sex or something but again, there was no hope for you. 

No time, no words came out, just a loud and honest moan, genuine vocal expression of the intense pleasure he made you feel as your fingers tangled in those navy bed sheets you bought him last Christmas. Hands tugging as you tried to ride out the most powerful orgasm you had in months thanks to his talented tongue, chest heaving as the feeling rose, peaked and then slowed down until overstimulation threatened to seep you, you panted out, “Fuck, fuck, stop!”  

As soon as it left your mouth he pulled up, “What was that you were saying earlier about cumming quickly?” He asked and you finally managed to catch your breath, “Shu-shut up.” 

You reached up, your hand found the back of his neck and you pulled him to you, your mouth crashing into his, effectively silencing his argument with your tongue in his mouth, tasting yourself on him. He moaned into your mouth and he moved closer, settling back on top of you, pressing himself into your hip and you feel how hard he is again. He wasn’t kidding, you had blown him what must have been less than fifteen minutes ago and he was raring to go. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much?

A rock of his hips and you broke the kiss, pulling on his jeans, “Get these off.” You demanded and one of his hands snapped your bra strap, “Get this off too then.” 

“Fair.” You agree as he gets out of his jeans and underwear and you arch your back, unhooking your own bra, you toss it and then you and Sam are naked together in his bed. 

This is really happening and you are so into it. Legs still trembling from how hard you came, seeing the sight of him totally naked and almost on top of you again, you are having trouble remembering the last time you were this turned on, felt like you had this much sexual chemistry with someone. That is all this was, right? Sexual chemistry. It had to be. 

Sam was leaning over, he opened the drawer on his nightstand and reached in and when you saw the small foil packet you asked, “Condom?”

“Yeah?” He nodded, “What, you don’t trust me, Wescott?” You teased, “No, God no, I just thought you’d want one.”

“Nope, I’m safe and as you know, I haven’t been with anyone in months annnnd I know you haven’t either so-”

A beat.

“Sooo it’s fine without?” He asked and you shrugged with a nod, “Yeah if you’re fine with it I am too.” 

He seemed unsure but he said, “Sure, I can handle it.” 

“Me too.” 

You weren’t sure that you could as you eyed him, without a doubt he is gonna be the biggest you’ve had like this but damn it did you want to try. He kissed you first again, slower as he eased on top of you and your heart was speeding up, you pushed on his chest and said,  “Wait, no, hold on.” 

You sit up and position him, sitting up with you in the middle of his bed and you slide into his lap, arms around his shoulders, his hands settle on your waist and he asks, “Like this?”

A nod, you wanted to be in a position you could be on top, have a lot of control and he still could too, you didn’t want to be under him, worried what it would do to you. “Mhmm.” 

You moved your hips, grind on his shaft and your breath catches slightly as does his, “Fuck, so uh-”

“This is happening.” You finish his thought, prodding your slick entrance with him as he said, “Yeah once we do this-”

There was no going back. Instead of saying that you reassure him, “It’ll be fine Wescott. Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck remember?”

“Right.” He sighed with a nod, clearly trying to psyche himself up. He looked into your eyes, tone shockingly steady as he said, “A fuck is just a fuck.”

No point in waiting any longer. You position yourself just right and then ask, “Ready?”

He confirmed, “As I’ll ever be.”  You don’t look away as you then start to slide down, your hands looped around the back of his neck, his hands on your waist squeeze as you start to envelope him. Fuck, you were plenty warmed up and totally wet but the stretch of him almost hurts.

Almost.

Halfway down your eyes close as you focus on how delicious it feels as you take him inch by inch until you settle in his lap, him fully buried in you. 

A moment is taken then. Soaking in the feeling of fullness, of how good it is to have him bare in you.

Almost chest to chest you can just about feel his heart beating impossibly hard. Eyes open and you look up, meet his gaze and your own heart isn’t doing much better, threatening to beat out of your ribcage. Sam’s face is flushed, lips parted and eyes hazy, you ask, “You’re gonna pull out, right?”

“Totally.” He breathes and you start to move then. Hips rising, sliding him out halfway before letting yourself fall, impaling yourself on him again and you and he both let out a small moan. “Oh!” 

You move again, starting to ride him slowly and a minute in he begins to match you, rocking with you as you both work together to find your rhythm, he breathed out, “Fuck.”

“Right?” You let out a light and musical laugh as your hips fell once more and he leaned in, his hands sliding over your back, he pulled you closer as he fucked up into you. His mouth was on your neck as your forehead rested on his shoulder, he said it so quietly you almost missed it, “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.” 

You almost wanted to ask him to repeat himself, you were hearing things, no way he said that. You must have imagined it, what you thought you heard from him pulled at something in your chest. You push that down and increase your pace, forget emotionality, embrace the physical, this is about fucking, about getting off, not sappy feelings shit. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, feet now on the bed to better help yourself ride him. He was still helping as well, moving with you and when he rolled his hips, ground into you, a gasp tore from your throat from the friction it provided your clit. Your grip on the back of his neck loosened with every perfect move against one another, eyes closed, head falling back as you fill yourself over and over, grind and pulse and then you lose your grip. “Woah!” 

Your back didn’t have far to go thankfully, hitting the mattress, your legs still over his hips, him still inside, he is the one to laugh now, “Shit, you okay?”

A laugh along with him, “Yeah, M’ fine.” You reach out, grabby hands, needy as you prompt him, “C’mon don’t stop.” 

In the heat of the moment, desperate for more, you weren’t opposed to him taking control, it was Sam, you could trust him. 

He takes the que, comes down to meet you, moves his hips forward, fills you all the way and you moan again. Your arms are around him, legs wrap tighter around his hips and he sets the pace now. You expect him to go back to what you were doing, hard and even but he doesn’t. He stays deep inside you and he grinds and the friction where you need it most makes you nearly choke. “Ah!”

You think it’ll stop but it doesn’t. It isn’t so much fucking, it doesn’t feel like it, not rough pounding, a race to the finish line, it is much slower, seemed imbued with meaning, he continues it, grinds and writhes with you and you do as well. It goes on for minutes, the flow of it comes with surprising ease, the pleasure is intense, you squirm below him, moan and your head is thrown back, “Oh-fuck, that-s-”

“That’s?” He asked, hopeful. His weight on top of you, the smell of him, his wandering hands, his strong body covering yours, the fullness, you say, “S’ too much!” 

Your hands on his shoulders, one of your knees nudge his hip hard and you move, he lets you, he knows what you want, he lets you take control again, you roll together. Him on the bottom on his back, you fully on top and back in control. 

You start at a much harder pace, faster. “Better?” He asks with a chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“Yeah, sorry, couldn’t-” Your lie breaks off with a moan, he doesn’t push, instead he rocks up into you, crooked smile as he assures, “Don’t worry about it.” 

A swirl of your hips and he angles his and you brush that spot inside just right, “Ohh! Yeah, yeah, right there!” 

It happens fast, in about two minutes of both those spots being hit so right and all the build up, heavy breathing and shared moaning, bodies slick and working together, he says, “I’m going to come soon-”

“Oh my God, me too-” You confess, your hands were planted on his chest and he was so taken with you in that moment. You riding him, being so close with you buried totally inside, and you look down, meeting his gaze and the weight of all of it hits at once. 

True, sometimes a fuck is just a fuck. 

Bu this wasn’t just a fuck, it held too much meaning, felt way too good for that, even the sex that physically felt the best for you didn’t have this much emotion in it, never made you ache down to your bones with feeling like this did. It was Sam, it was always Sam, he had always been right there, understood you better than anyone. This wasn’t just some guy to use to get over your shit-head ex, no, this was your best friend. 

And you looking into each other's eyes, not having sex, not fucking, much, much more than that, it was like you saw the same realization hit Sam all at once.  

He speaks honestly as his hands squeeze your waist, “You’re so gorgeous.” 

The smile on his face is infectious, you smile too, until a few more moves of your hips again drags you out of your head and your sudden emotional realisation and back to your body, so close to coming but not close enough to him.

You need to be closer, you reach out, your hands catch his, he laces his fingers with yours as they go above his head, pulling you down with him by doing so. Your hips don’t slow, almost chest to chest, fuck it, you decide to be honest too. “This is better than I ever thought.”

He agrees, a shake of his head, tone full of feeling and near wonderment at you and this, “Ever imagined.”

“Oh my God you feel so good-” You cry and he says in a rush, continuing to thrust up into you, “You’re so beautiful.”

It is so close, the feeling creeping up your spine, you say what you feel, it is as easy as breathing, finally admitting what you now know you have felt for God knows how long, “Oh, oh, oh, I love you!” 

“I love you too!” His response fills your ears and that ends up being what pushes you over the edge as you stutter out, “Sa-ahh-am! M’ cumming-”

“Fuck, me too.” He grit out and you beg, you actually beg mid-orgasm, the three words break through the haze, far too blissed out and high on him to want anything else as you please, “Don’t pull out!”

It’s all the encouragement he needs, his hands squeeze yours as he allows himself to cum, filling you up with a long groan of your name, your hips squirm, walls milking him as your own pleasure finds its natural end. You both slowly stop moving, out of breath and you go slack on top of him, hands still linked together.

You can’t believe this is how it all turned out. 

He kisses the side of your face and you smile, you let his mouth move until his meets yours, a soft kiss is shared, you pull back looking down at him. He breaks the silence, “I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it's your moans.” 

A wide smile, “So I did hear you say that earlier.” He laughed lightly, “Did you? Shit I tried to keep it quiet, I swear.”

“Mmm, I so believe you.” You tease and he says, “Speaking of believing people, what was that about a fuck is just a fuck? Sometimes it means something and sometimes it’s about intertwining fingers but this isn’t that?” 

His hands squeeze yours again, making a point of wiggling his fingers still between yours and you roll your eyes, letting go of his hands “Okay, okay you aren’t gonna hold this over my head our whole relationship are you?”

He pauses and asks, “Relationship?”

You scoff and purposefully clench on him, making him let out a small groan as you then ask, “Well we ARE dating now aren’t we?” He said it as if it was as clear as the fact the sky was blue, “Obviously.” 

“Sooo?” 

“Sooo I’ll try to be nice and only bring it up when it’s really funny.” You conceded, “I can allow that.” 

“Or when it’ll help me win an argument” He joked and you sighed, “Okay sure, Sam.”

“So I’ve lost the Wescott finally? I’m officially Sam since I am officially your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah you get first name privileges when you make me cum that hard.” 

Another beat before you ask, “So you meant what you said right? You didn’t just say it cuz like I said it right?”

He said, tone shocked, “Of course I meant it!” 

You defend yourself, “Cuz sometimes you do that thing where you say a thing because I did just to agree with me-” He laughed and his head fell back on the pillow, “Oh my God, no not this time. I mean it.”

“Really?” The grin almost hurt your face, “Well I bet you didn’t know but I had a crush on you back in fourth grade-”

“Awe I did know but I was with that guy so we couldn’t. I bet YOU didn’t know I had a crush on you in ninth grade-”

“I did but I was with-” You both stopped and you said, “Jesus we really do know everything about each other.”

Why did you ever wait so long and waste so much time on other people?

“Maybe that is why this is so good? Because we do?” He offered and you said, “Maybe, you might be onto something there.” 

You press a kiss to his forehead as you start to slide him out and get off of him. One of your hands slipped between your thighs as you moved to the edge of the bed, “You in a rush to leave?”

“Hardly, going to the bathroom.” You tell him as you carefully get off the bed, still cupping yourself, trying to hold some of the mess inside. He laughed as he watched you try to do that and make your way to the ensuite bathroom, you asked “What?”

His hand waves dismissively as he says, “Nothing, nothing. Just I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.”

You threw up the middle finger on your free hand as you left the room and he called, “Love you too!”

[persephonesneighbor]

Am I living next door to Persephone?

Made a Tumblr just for this because my friends will probably think I’m nuts. But I literally cannot stop thinking about this.

This is probably gonna sound weird, but: I think I live next door to Persephone? 

My family moved into this house last fall. At the time we met a few of the neighbors, thanks to one really chatty couple that live right across the street. I didn’t meet the one neighbor (I’m just going to call her “P”), but I saw her out in her front yard a few times, gardening. Didn’t really think anything of it.

Pretty much as soon as it got frozen outside, I stopped seeing her. I didn’t think much of that either, but in hindsight it’s weird. Like, her driveway got shoveled but I never actually saw anyone do it. And sometimes there were tire tracks but I never saw anyone coming or going. 

Anyway, fast forward to a couple months ago, when suddenly she’s out in her yard every day. For HOURS. Almost always gardening or trimming trees or mowing the lawn. I saw her wash her car once but otherwise, plants. 

A lot of people around here have gardens, but the difference is everyone else I see with a garden is an old person. P is like, early 30s maybe? And she’s out gardening at times that most people are at work or school. I know work from home is a thing but doesn’t that require some kind of ordinary business hours? 

(I should probably mention that I keep weird hours because I’m a part time college student  and I work second shift, and also I walk my dog a lot to get away from my parents. I’m not creeping on my neighbors on purpose, I swear.) 

So far this doesn’t add up to a lot, I know. But this last week three things happened that made me wonder. 

One: Our part of the US is in a drought right now. Everyone’s lawn is completely fried and most people have kind of given up on their flowerbeds. P’s, however, are blooming. Like CRAZY. I’ve never actually seen her do anything to those plants but water them. (Oh, also: She waters everything with the hose instead of using sprinklers. Is that weird? I don’t know anything about gardening.)

Two: She waters random weeds in her front lawn. At least I thought that’s what she was doing. Until those weeds also started flowering. Looks like she’s watering anything that flowers and anything that doesn’t, like the grass, is just dying. (But, like, how does she know? Is that just a thing gardening people know?)

Three: She was out the other day, so I asked my parents if they had met her yet, because they’ve met pretty much everyone else by now. They said no but Chatty Neighbors had told them she’s a widow. I guess her husband died a while ago. 

Can get flowers to grow where no one else can, disappears all winter, and has a husband who is now a permanent resident of the land of the dead? I mean….I keep telling myself I'm just making it up, but I have this weird feeling I can't shake. Am I crazy or am I onto something?

[branw3lls]

various clockwork angel thoughts

-listening to the audiobook so i can get through everything before chain of thorns. i’ve both read and listened to the infernal devices books so many times, and prefer to read but i have a deadline baby! miss elizabeth bennet herself, jennifer ehle, narrating is so fun. her choice to give gabriel a goofy ass lisp is so fucking nuts but i respect her giving us variety in her accents 

-thomas tanner making me sad this time for some reason! never cared too much about him before but the bit about how thomas and will were so close before jem arrived, shadow hunter and the servant boy 

-charlotte always worried and henry always making soothing noises, i think this is mentioned like 20 times in 3 books 

-holy water, holy water and blood 

-i would read a brother enoch novella

-i never really appreciate how much i like tessa as our protagonist. she strikes a really perfect balance for me. i’m never annoyed with her, i love her i get her choices, i’m so FOND of her, i want her happy, i want her to have it all. she could very easily be boring at any moment but never is 

-god this would make such a fun show! will it ever happen

-ok now how the fuck did balios and xanthos the horses become magic horses who can take a carriage places without a driver??? thomas or cyril always has to drive in TID but in TLH these horses are on autopilot! i’ve never seen cassie answer this in an ask and maybe i’ll find it this time in my re-read but please let me know if you know because it’s so fucking funny to me

- forgot about the mention of guns and why they can’t use them as weapons against demons and that henry has been trying to get them to work even back then and then we got to see that come back in tlh

-jessamine rules, truly so so mean and so so funny. i can’t believe jessie has just been hanging out as a ghost for 24 years

-i want to see grownup sophie and will hanging out. they are so funny in this book. sophie hates his guts 

-jem and charlotte also have a dynamic i love. jem supports and listens probably more than anyone else in the institute

-drama queen will makes me wonder what it would be like if we got midnight heir version of james. i do really love the james herondale we have but would LOVE to see what cassie was originally do with the melodrama

-i think i also love this series the most bc i don’t love faerie/ the fae or seelie queen/ court drama and there’s practically none to be found 

- i love everyone i love these people i love their children and i don’t want to see them sad EVER AGAIN

-are we gonna see tessa use her power in chain of thorns? i know tlh is not about the parents but i do think they’re all going to play a larger part in events or be in peril and have to be saved by their kids or something in that vain

[lunarheiress]

I love love love LOVE! Stardew valley!!! It’s easily in my top 10 games like, ever, and it’s brought me so much joy that I have a hard time even thinking about making any potentially not positive comments on the game.

That said, one aspect that is absolutely maddening has finally driven me up the wall a bit too high and I want to see if it drives anyone else batty too lol. No lie, literally every time I hear about any kind of update I wonder if it will be added in?

It being, like, reactions?? Idk how to quite phrase it. I also know that such reactions as the ones I’m about to describe might be far too complex to introduce, or might exist in some ways and I’ve just missed them? But this is a teeny little town with realistic feeling social dynamics between characters. Some are best friends, others obviously dislike one another, there are complex family relationships, etc etc. all beautiful! And yet!

No one reacts to anything that happens??? If I as a player started to, say, date…. Let’s go with Sebastian? He has a sister, his mom and stepdad, and some friends. The characters could react to this development? But I’ve never seen anything? When I first learned that certain spouses came with benefits, I joked that Sebastian and Maru might come with discounts from robin, but she never mentions being married to her children at all?

Now, certain characters have these interactions come up inside of cut scenes, so there’s that, but not all? Not to mention if you have kids, some of these people are now grandparents??? Like, it’s just the only thing about stardew valley that feels disjointed to me. Not even the occasional “how’s married life treating you?” Kind of stuff. A lot of stuff in stardew valley is bizarre or unique, but I felt like that was the only spot where something was glaringly missing?

Now, as I mentioned, I don’t know the first thing about the complications that implementing such reactions may cause. This also isn’t a massive issue? It’s just a small aspect, but one that I notice every play through and bothers me every time. It’s almost funny to be honest.

So yes, it drives me a little bit nuts that You can save the town or turn it into Jojaworld, heck you can build one of your neighbors a house but no one will ever ask how your kids are. (Also full disclaimer there are some characters I just don’t jive with, so if they happen to be the only ones who do this that would be hilariously frustrating)

[afro-elf]

fine, i’ll elaborate on my thoughts about tylor sift but they will be disorganized

disclaimer: i know a few people will read this and be like “op is a hozier fan can she really talk about the cultural obsession with mediocre white art?” and the answer is yes because a) i’m black and i have an english degree so can do whatever i fucking want, b) hozier is a better artist than taylor objectively, like his mediocre tracks would be considered her great ones, and c) the comparison of taylor to hozier is part of the problem Genuinely because i don’t even think white people like half the music they listen to, they just don’t wanna be left behind, we’ll get into this later. i’m sorry to everyone who is tired of hearing about him but hozier will be returning later in this post jsfglsjlgldsjlfd

second note: read this

i don’t just dislike taylor because she’s white. i don’t dislike taylor because she’s a woman. i don’t dislike her because she writes mean and petty lyrics about past relationships and people who wronged her. i don’t dislike taylor because her public circle of friends is almost exclusively blonde white celebrities with their own laundry lists of issues that includes ryan reynolds and blake lively who are poster children for white privilege and pseudo-excellence if i’ve ever seen them. i dislike taylor because the amalgamation of all of those things is so exemplary of a huge problem i have with the music industry in general but also like american society

fuck it, numbered list!

1. taylor swift consistently releases the same mediocre album but in different colors. every album is the same lyrically and tonally. her body of work rarely goes very far above “good for taylor swift”. folklore as both title and musical aesthetic is irrelevant to the actual content of the album, which is just every taylor swift album except set to folk pop and with a bit more cussing, congrats for baby’s first swear. i’ve seen folklore compared to much better bodies of work and even propped up by stans as album of the year, a distinction that rina sawayama and chloe x halle will be battling it out for if there is any justice in the world at all. the fact that she is allowed to do this and still be considered great when this is something that even white male artists are butchered critically for... astounds me. like we all know how well received all of coldplay’s similar sounding albums are.... Come on. 

2. i don’t think taylor or her work is particularly feminist and yet for some reason every time she frowns an army of white women brings her kleenex. i’m not saying taylor’s anger has always been unjustified, but her feminism to me has always felt like “i can do whatever a man can do” feminism, which is utterly fucking useless to me as a black woman. it’s only useful to her because as a wealthy, white, straight, cis white woman her ONLY obstacle in life is her gender. and if she just didn’t have that tricky little bitch then maybe people would take her seriously. like, just think about her music video for the man... what was the thesis of that? what was the point of that? with all of her privileges she’d just be gaining a single extra privilege. she’s a blonde blue eyed thin white girl, the world kisses her feet. i have no interest in proving myself any better or any worse than white men, they are not the standard for how a person should be treated, they’re cautionary tales, and white women are too. i think taylor capitalizes off of white woman victimhood, and it’s all over her writing style. even when she’s trying to be empowered, like in mad woman for example, there is this tone to it of victimization, poking the bear, unleashing the beast if you will. she invokes the imagery of salem witches and even more boldly chooses a noose to write about in the song which is..... surely going to be a white tumblr staple for many gifsets to come but holy shit is it hollow. she also tends to come back to teenage memories in her music and she’s thirty. i don’t think about being seventeen unless i’m being held at gunpoint but she seems to think about it All The Time. and part of this is to keep herself young, at least in her music, which only further ingrains this image of fragile teeny bopper taylor into the mind of the listener, fueling her victim image. this imagery and language means nothing because the world always rallies around taylor. even when she was the butt of jokes for not being beyonce (which she is not and never can be) and writing about her exes (which she does), she was largely supported by the industry and by critics. look at how many fucking awards she has!

3. folk and indie and alternative music is in a moment of transition, where musicians of color are getting the chance to really speak about how they’ve been treated in these overwhelmingly white circles and create their own standards and their own voices. and for taylor swift to swoop in with aaron dessner and jack antonoff fantano and almost reassert that mid-2010s indie sound as The Sound of folk pop in the popular consciousness.... it makes me violent! it! makes! me! violent! 

4. back to hozier! finally, i wanna talk about white standom, fandom, bandom, and womandom. i often see these very superficial comparisons between hozier and taylor (and hozier and florence and hozier and stevie nicks and hozier and whatever other white woman in fashion) and they frustrate me for more than one reason. i know that hozier has met taylor and said she’s cool, which is nice of him and he’s a nice man, but i’m not a nice man so i’m going to just say it: none of the people who have made those posts have listened to more than four hozier songs and it shows. the reason why this matters is because these posts catch on and create an image and preconception of hozier’s music that is divorced from reality and divorced from his influences and most importantly divorced from the deliberate and reverent blackness of his musical style. hozier has his white male privilege in the industry for sure but he’s not as towering of a giant as taylor and taylor’s music is an unsalted chicken, plain oatmeal, white paint drying on a white wall, a stick of unflavored gum. her music is so white it told me that its dad is a cop. i am, as a black hozier fan, exhausted with having to share space with white women who don’t know why hozier’s music kicks me in my lungs sometimes and think that taylor mentioning a tree ONCE in her 3 minute acoustic guitar slog about whatever suburb is the same when it simply is not. i swear some of you are pretending to love taylor because your friends love her and you don’t wanna be left out of the hot new musical discourse but she’s only the hot new musical discourse CONSTANTLY because she’s a white woman, she’s almost the Perfect white woman. like if someone asked me to describe a white woman, it would be taylor swift. her position at the top of the musical pyramid among people who eclipse her musically, vocally, and lyrically is only allowed because she’s The Perfect White Woman. she’s an ideal. white girls relate to her immediately because of it and now we have this unshakable mob of unbearable white women who think that the world has wronged someone who literally wrote fanfiction about the rich oil heiress white woman who owned her rhode island mansion before her aklghlghdhlgs it drives me fucking NUTS 

anyway that’s all. if you made it this far, listen to adia victoria, kaia kater, samantha crain, valerie june, kelsey lu, corinne bailey rae, brittany howard, kimya dawson, japanese breakfast, cold specks, left at london, rhiannon giddens, aisha badru, shea diamond, nadine shah, xenia rubinos, karen o, mirel wagner.... Anyone

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

 1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson 

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.  

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.  

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart. 

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping. 

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure. 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

 2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

 Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened. 

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything. 

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations. 

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera. 

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet. 

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community. 

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected. 

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader. 

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr. 

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved. 

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too. 

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure. 

 It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans. 

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people. 

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno. 

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality. 

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation. 

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth. 

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over. 

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men. 

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

[annemagus]

natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“ 

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

— 

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off. 

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader​ @harrypotterxx​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[ca-8]

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.' 

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus. 

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said. 

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him. 

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper. 

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building. 

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her. 

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't. 

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger. 

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder. 

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could. 

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant. 

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile. 

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed. 

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses? 

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.  

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin. 

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him. 

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”. 

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat. 

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand. 

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet. 

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).” 

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times. 

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place. 

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality. 

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal. 

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath. 

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!” 

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’