#This blog is a day behind just fyi

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it. 

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience. 

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki. 

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough. 

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing. 

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world. 

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention. 

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?” 

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.” 

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.” 

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists. 

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight. 

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s  looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume. 

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns. 

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,” 

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body  out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.  

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.” 

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his. 

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.” 

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake. 

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.” 

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream. 

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery. 

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%.  but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“ 

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side. 

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely. 

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his  perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.” 

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you. 

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast. 

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good. 

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him. 

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.” 

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance. 

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing. 

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself. 

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?” 

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner. 

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars. 

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open. 

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.  

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.” 

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls  his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.” 

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief. 

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit. 

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears. 

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?” 

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.” 

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used. 

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by. 

including none other than shouto todoroki. 

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole. 

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there. 

“bakugou what are you—?” 

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?” 

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust.  “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.” 

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you. 

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too. 

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.” 

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated  kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever. 

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you. 

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks. 

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre. 

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly. 

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body. 

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high. 

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.  

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back. 

he collapses next to shouto after that. 

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.” 

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?” 

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately. 

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath. 

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight. 

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this. 

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.” 

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl. 

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

It would be so cute if you could write about harry and yn being together since highschool and they were each others first everything and they got married very early and just their live together now yk

From Here To Eternity.

a/n: thank you to the very kind anon that requested this blurb, it was definitely a fun one to write and i’m sorry it took so long to post! fyi i’m absolutely terrible at writing smut so please don’t come at me🫶

masterlist || ask me anything <3

likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated!!

word count - 9.8k

in which, harry and you first met on your first day of secondary school, and since then your lives have always revolved around each other. she’s been there through everything, his x-factor audition, when the band first rose to fame, when they went on a hiatus and when he made it big as a solo star. they were each others first everything’s, and that made the whole ordeal just that more special.

September 4th, 2009 — the first meeting.

On the first day of secondary school, your nerves were through the roof. The fact that your hands were shaking was not helping the factor that you knew absolutely no one in this school.

You were absolutely terrified of being late to your classes and having to do the walk of shame towards your desk as everyone stared at you.

Walking down the hallway, you happened to spot a boy with brown curly hair, he was putting something away in his locker and a focused look on his face.

“Excuse me,” You gained his attention as you walked over to him, his snapping over to me. “I was wondering if you happened to know where room 102 was?”

He closed his locker behind him and stood up straighter. “— yeah I do, I’m heading there myself in a minute, what’s your name? M’Harry?”

Relief showered your body knowing that you had found someone to talk to and someone you could walk into class with. “My names (Y/N)”

“So are you new here?”he asked, gripping a hold of his backpack that was over his shoulder, it blended in with your school uniform.

You nodded your head. “—yeah we moved from Liverpool, today's my first day.”

“So what classes do you have today?” Harry asked as you tried not to bump into students in your way.

You glanced down at the timetable that was in your hands and let out a small groan. “I’ve got Math, English, Religious Studies and then Science”

Harry let out a small laugh. “— I’ve got the same, looks like we’re going to be in the same classes”

Thank god.

At least you would know someone in your classes through the day and wouldn’t have to feel like a loner.

“Maths is definitely my favourite subject,”Harry continued on smiling at the thought of his favourite subject. “What’s yours?”

“Oh I’m absolutely terrible at maths,”You shook your head before pondering an answer to his previous question. “— I think my favourite subject may be pe.”

As the two of you walked towards the class (more like you following behind him like a little bit of a lost puppy) you continued to chet about your favourite hobbies.

You found out that he was part of a music group named ‘White Eskimo’ and he had even invited you to rage along to one of their practices when you had time.

You found yourself laughing at the little jokes that he seemed to slip into the conversation and you felt a lot more at ease about the school day ahead.

By the time you both arrived at the door of the classroom, you felt your throat go dry upon seeing your Maths teacher Mr.Jones already reaching the class.

Not only had you made yourself late, you had now dragged your new friend down to your depths.

Great.

Harry tried to quietly open the door, hoping not to disturb the class but the teacher had already snapped their head over to see the two of you entering the room.

Mr.Jones raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Late on the first day back?”

Your new friend looked down at the ground slightly. “—M’sorry,Sir.”

The teacher let out a sigh before turning their attention over to you and eyeing you up carefully. “Who's your friend?”

“My names (Y/N), I’m new here and Harry helped me get here, it’s my fault we’re late.”I tried to explain to the teacher who just pushed there glasses further up the bridge of there nose.

“Well (Y/N) and Harry, go ahead and take the seats at the back of the class for me.”Mr.Jones nodded there head over to the two empty seats you were expected to occupy.

As the two of you sat down in the seats, you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and felt your face flush a soft shade of pink.

Being late on your first day wasn’t so teething you expected to do. But they couldn’t really blame you.

You just didn’t want to make a bad first impression.

“I’m sorry about making you late.”You apologised to Harry, as you grabbed a pencil from your pencil case.

Harry waved you off with a reassuring smile. “— it’s all good.”

As the lesson progressed on you and Harry shared notes about the syllabus you were learning, helping each other with the work as much as you could without the teacher calling you out for speaking.

“Thanks for letting me sit next to you, you didn’t have to.” you muttered to Harry who was flicking through the textbook.

He smiled at you. “— honestly, it’s been my pleasure, and can’t wait to see where this friendship goes.”

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

April 2nd, 2010 — Prom.

When Harry had invited you round his house on Saturday, you thought absolutely nothing of it.

Since you first started year eleven, you and Harry were quick to become best friends and would often go round each other's houses on the weekend and have a sleepover until Sunday.

When he opened the door after hearing you knock on it, you could instantly pick up on how nervous he was due to the fact his fingers were curled up into a fist.

“Hi, H!”you greeted him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

There was no doubt that over the course of your friendship that you hadn’t thought about him in another way.

You spent every school day together since you started and most weekends together as well unless you were doing something with your families.

Harry opened the door a bit more. “— hey, come on in.”

Once inside, Harry led you out to the back garden seeing as it was a warm summer's day, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Until your eyes landed on the set up.

A picnic had been set up and a red and white chequered blanket was laid out on the greenery. A bowl of fruit in the middle with some sandwiches laid out as well.

“Wow..Harry,”you breathed out. “— what’s all this for?”

“I was thinking about Prom and how we weren’t too sure about if we should go,”he explained, sitting down on the blanket with you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “— I wanted to ask if you would be my Prom date? I wanted it to be special.”

Did you hear him right?

He wants you to be his prom date?

“Really?”was all I managed to speak, still trying to wrap my head around his question.

He nodded his head. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I can’t deny that I like you, we’re friends and going to prom together would be the first step into getting something more.”

Was this way of him saying he liked you?

Holy fucking moly.

“You like me?”

He smirked at you. “— isn’t that obvious?”

He took a sip of strawberry water from his cup. “So what do you say? Will you be my prom date?”

You flushed a shade of red making him let out a small laugh. “I would love to be your prom date!”

When Prom night finally came around, your nerves were skyrocketing.

You stood at the top of the stairs after hearing from your mum who was peering out the windows that your prom date had arrived and was eagerly awaiting for your prom dress to get revealed, so that he could like you even more.

You took in a small inhale of air before your heel clad feet started making their way down the stairs, hand holding onto the railing so that you didn’t fall and trip, and that was when you saw him.

Harry.

He was wearing a grey suit, with a white crisp shirt underneath as well as a matching grey suit vest and a black bow tie to compliment the outfit even more, his hair was styled the exact same with his unruly curls framing his face and had some black shoes on his feet.

“Wow,”Harry’s mouth gaped as he stared at you, “— you look beautiful!”

You had no idea that you would be matching colours seeing as you hadn’t even known what each other was going to wear.

This was complete coincidence.

Your dress was a light grey strapless dress with a long skirt that was layered. There was a sprinkling of light pink flowers embroidered onto the torso of the dress to add the slightest pop of colour.

Your cheeks flushed. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Your mother was standing next to your father at the bottom of the stairs as well, a camera was in her hands as Harry came and stood next to you, placing a hand on your hip and bringing you in closer to him.

“The two of you look lovely.”Your mother complimented as she continued to take photos.

“Thanks mom.”You let out a small groan of embarrassment as Harry let out a small laugh.

Your father clapped Harry on the back as the two of you made your way towards the front door, he was grinning at him. “— take care of my daughter tonight, Harry.”

“I will Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry let out a nervous chuckle.

After the two of you had said your goodbyes to your parents, Harry who had just passed his drivers test grabbed his keys out of his pocket and opened your car door for you like a true gentleman.

Once the both of you were in the seats, Harry turned to look at you with a look of fondness. “You really do look beautiful by the way.”

“And you really do look handsome.”You told him in truth, tucking a curl out of his eyes.

The drive to the venue was one filled with laughter and comfortableness when the two of you arrived at the venue, strobe lights were lining up the exterior as a red carpet was rolled out.

Throughout the entire night, you and Harry continued to dance, moving your bodies and that was when you realised just how charming and considerate Harry really was.

All in all you had a great time together.

As the night drew to a close and prom king and queen was announced, Harry placed a hand on the small of your back as the final slow dance of the evening took place.

“How would you feel if I took you on a real date sometime?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach felt as if butterflies had taken home there. “— I would feel privileged.”

What a great way to end the night.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

June 17th, 2010 — the first time.

“If you're not ready to do this…''Harry panted out as you wrapped your arms around his neck from where you were laying underneath him, both of you in nothing but your knickers. “…then we don’t have to, I’m not pressuring you into doing anything.”

“I really want to do this,”you whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. “— there’s no one else I would rather be doing this with, I trust you Harry, baby.”

After your first date, you and Harry had been on five more before he asked you to be his girlfriend and after dating for two months you finally figured out that you were both ready to take the next big step in your relationship.

Harry nodded his head and started leaving kisses down her jaw, and lower down her neck, making you squirm slightly in his grip.

He slowly pulled the waistband of your knickers down from your hips and gradually down your leg making you wish he would simply hurry up.

“God, you're making me melt over here, babe.” Harry complimented as he took sight of your bare core, glistening and all for him.

He was a virgin also, so that factor made this even more special.

“Please..please har..Harry.”you whined, head thrown back as his hand teased at your bud of nerves, he tried not to whine as well at seeing you like this.

Your first time was together.

He was getting you ready for him and that made you even more nervous.

The condom was on his length before you even got a chance to blink.

His length was bulky and there was a large vein leading up to the top of his penis, where a drop of pre cum was starting to form.

Harry laced your fingers together as he slowly entered your soaking core.

It wasn’t as painful as you had imagined but it was definitely uncomfortable.

It would take a lot of getting used to.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feeling and knowing that the moisture was all because of him and no one else.

“You feel so good (Y/N).”Harry groaned as he thrusted in and out of you at a gentle pace.

You reached your hand up and pulled at his curls as moans and groans fell from both of your lips and filled his bedroom.

He kissed you with everything he had, and that was what solidified the deal for you.

You loved him.

Your legs tightened and your stomach copied.

“Let go, sweet girl,”Harry spoke softly, making a tear fall down your cheek at the pleasure you were currently facing. “— come for me, babe.”

“Let go, let go for me, sweet girl.” A wave of ecstasy rolled over your body as you came undone and felt his lips against your feverish skin.

Harry pressed a kiss to your lips. “— I love you (Y/N) I love you so much.”

Your pants made it hard to figure things out around you but you had definitely heard what he had said.

He loves you?

Harry Edward Styles really said he loved you.

You let out a small breath. “I love you Harry, I really do.”

There’s definitely a right place to say things like this and this was definitely the place.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

August 6th, 2010 — the news.

“I’ve got some news.”

You tilted your head to the side as you laid down next to Harry on the hammock in his garden, your legs entwined and your head rested on his chest.

You lifted your head up slightly. “What’s the news?”

“You know how you and mum are always saying that I’ve got a good voice?” He asked, running a hand up and down your arm.

You nodded at him as an answer, you did really think that he had a good voice, you would often hear him singing to himself getting changed in the mornings you would sleep over, you would hear him singing you to sleep at night when you were a little bit restless.

He was even part of ‘White Eskimo’ so if he was the frontman of a band then he obviously had a good voice.

“Well I think I’m going to audition for X-factor.”

You sat up completely, eyes wide as his words registered in your brain.

“You're going to audition for X-factor?”You exclaimed, “— as in the show with Louis Walsh and Dermot O Leary?”

He nodded his head. “I’ve been practising non stop, you hear me singing all the time, so it only seems like the right thing to do.”

“I’m really excited for you!” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek out of pure affection.

“Do you have an idea about what you're going to sing?” You mused, staring at him softly.

“Yeah, I want to sing something that really showcases my voice so I’ve been thinking ‘Hey Soul Sister’.”

One of your favourite songs.

“That’s a really good song, H.” you informed him, lacing your fingers together. “— you're going to do absolutely amazing.”

He hummed. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” You assured him, the sun shining down on your skin to give it a nice sun kissed glow. “— and I’m always here if you ever want help practising.”

He laughed, throwing his head back slightly at your words, you both knew that you were a very bad singer so just the thought of you helping him out seemed funny.

“I’ll definitely consider that.”

Over the next few weeks leading up to the audition, you would hear Harry singing every chance he got.

Whether that be in the shower, in the car on the way to school, and sometimes when you stayed over you could swear that you heard him singing in his sleep.

But that only showed his dedication to impress the judges.

And that hard work definitely paid off.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

February 19th, 2013 — gaining permission.

It was a warm summer’s evening when Harry approached the front door of your childhood home.

His nerves were high as he raised his fist to knock against the wood, his mind still rehearsing everything that he was about to say to him.

After hearing someone knock against the front door, your father raised his eyebrows and went ahead towards it, opening it up and coming face to face with your boyfriend of nearly three years.

“Hello Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry greeted the man he called a second father and offered him a grin.

Your father and Harry shook hands. “— Afternoon, Harry.”

You had absolutely no idea that Harry was going round to speak to your father tonight seeing as you were on a girls weekend with a few friends from school, and so Harry thought this would be the best time to speak to him, without you wondering where he was.

The timing was perfect really.

“I came to talk to you about something really important, if that’s alright with you.”Harry explained, his palms suddenly becoming slightly sweaty.

Your father invited him into the home and they both settled down on the sofas in the living room, Harry began speaking seeing as he couldn’t hold it off anymore.

"Mr. (Y/L/N), I know we're young, but I can't imagine my future without your daughter," Harry stated as he sat across from your dad.

"I appreciate your honesty, Harry. But marriage is a big commitment. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Your dad replied, folding his arms.

When Harry was placed as a member of One Direction, he didn’t think that his life would change drastically, he had heard stories of boy bands and their girlfriends always having a hard time, but you and Harry were beating all the odds.

The two of you were stronger than ever.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered confidently. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love her so much and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Your dad leaned back in his chair, contemplating Harry’s words. "Well, I have to say, I'm impressed with your sincerity. It's not often you see such devotion in young people these days. Alright, I'll give you my blessing."

The singer let out a sigh of relief and a smile spread across his face. "Thank you, sir! I'll do my best to make her happy every day."

As Harry stood up to leave, your dad stopped him. "One more thing, James. Promise me that you'll take care of her. She's my little girl and I love her more than anything in this world."

"I promise, sir," Harry replied, nodding his head earnestly. "I'll always be there for her and do whatever it takes to make her happy."

As Harry left, your dad couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. He knew that his daughter was in good hands with a man who loved her so deeply.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

March 1st, 2013 — the pier.

Coming to the pier was a bit of a last time for you and Harry.

It held a lot of memories for the two of you.

When you would spend the nights round his house on the weekends, you would sneak out of the house and go and spend some time at the arcades at the end of the pier, he even won you a stuffed unicorn once.

You had gone there after prom when he asked you out on a proper date to stare at the stars as they rested in the sky,

After your fifth date, Harry had brought you to the pier and asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You had been on the pier when he told you that he was put in One Direction, you weren’t allowed to be at that audition because your parents said that school was more important, you were there when he told you that his life was about to change drastically.

As you and Harry walked along the pier, he held your manicured hand tightly.

“So how was your day, baby?” You quizzed him, swinging your hands back and forth slightly.

“It was good,”Harry replied, “— busy with getting things ready for the tour, but it was good overall.”

You knew how hard he and the rest of the boys were working so that they could get everything ready for the tour they were about to embark on, you were tagging along as well so that you could spend as much time with Harry as possible.

“I can imagine,”you offered him a small smile. “How’s all that going?”

“I think it’s going well, to be honest.”he squeezed your hand as you continued walking down the pier. “— we’re just working on nailing the set list and then everything should be ready to go.”

As the two of you walked, the topic of conversation shifted from work to your family and then to finally what you both wanted your future to look like.

Over the years you had learned to feel comfortable with speaking to Harry about everything and anything.

“Speaking of the future,” He spoke, making you glance over at him, your eyes locking. “— what do you see in our future?”

You had thought about an answer to this question for a while now and contemplated telling him, but now seemed like the appropriate time to say it.

“I definitely see us having a happy, loving life together,”you began to answer, breathing softly. “Maybe a house, marriage and definitely some kids, you’d be a great dad.”

Harry’s heart swelled after hearing your words. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

The two of you gazed out at the moonlit waves crashing below the wooden slats that were holding the pier up.

Finally, you reached the end of the pier where Harry stopped and turned to face you.

"(Y/N), I know we're only young," he began, "but I love you more than anything in this world. These past three years have been the happiest of my life and I can't imagine spending my future with anyone else."

Your heart was pounding as she stared into Harry’s forest green orbs that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

"H, I love you too," you replied, your voice shaking slightly.

“Sweetheart, you're my best friend, actually your more than that, your my whole world, my absolute reason to wake up every morning, you’ve been by my side through all the hardships and to say you’ve made me a better man would one hundred percent be the understatement of the century.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, trying to regulate your breathing as your ears started ringing as you stared at the man you adored.

Your eyes widened as you watched Harry kneel down on one knee and pull out a small velvet box from his pocket. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Marriage.

Harry wanted you to be his wife.

You could barely see him through the tears that were falling from your eyes, but you could make out that he was crying as well.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course, I will!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Harry’s neck.

Once the two of you broke away from the hug, he slipped the ring from the box onto your finger, both hands shaking from the adrenaline currently coursing through their body.

The two of you embraced tightly, feeling each other's heartbeat as the gentle breeze swirled around you. For you and Harry, this moment felt like the beginning of forever.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

August, 2014 — I do.

You took in a deep breath as you stood at the end of the altar next to your father, your arm linked with his as your other hand held a bouquet of flowers.

When the familiar chords of one of your and Harry’s favourite songs rang out throughout the small registery office that the two of you had decided to get wed at, that was when you realised that this was really happening.

You were getting married.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Your father asked you, head tilted to the side.

You took in a hesitant small breath as you nodded at the words your father had just spoken. “Honestly, this is as ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nodded his head at your words before opening the doors to the side of the room, your breath hitched in your throat.

Your groom lifted his head when he heard whispers filling up the room and that was all the clarification he needed to know that you were present.

He hesitantly lifted his head and salt water instantly filled his orbs.

You looked astonishing.

It felt as if it was just the two of you in the room, your eyes remained locked on each other as you got closer and closer, the moment was pure and heartwarming.

Harry’s curls had grown out since your engagement on the pier so they were pushed back by a simple headband, so they didn’t block his view of you and he was adorning a suit of black colour, a white frilled shirt underneath as a thin silk black tie hung around his neck.

Your wedding dress was what you had always dreamed your dress would look like on your special day. It was Lacey and hung loosely to your figure in certain areas, flowers embroidered the sleeves and around your collar.

As your heel clad feet came to a stop by your soon to be husband, your father left a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, before taking a seat at the front two next to your mother as well as Harry’s parents and sister.

Your hand slipped into Harry’s and he rubbed soft circles on the back of it to reassure you that everything was going to be okay.

“You look beautiful, m’love.”Harry whispered as his own eyes filled with more tears.

The officiant glanced around at the people around you that were gathered in the small room before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.

“(Y/N) and Harry have decided to write their own vows as a declaration of there love for one another as well as there marriage,” the man began, looking down at the notes in his hands.

You and Harry locked gazes with each other and both offered each other a small smile, this was really happening.

“God, Harry I don’t even know where to begin,”you looked down at the piece of paper in your hand that was filled with your handwriting.

“— just for this day, I had to Google what the definition of a soulmate was but then I realised I didn’t have to. You were the definition. Plain and Simple. When we first met our first conversation was me asking you for directions, but over the past three years of getting to know you and fall continuously in love with you, I have come to known that you have showed me new directions of life, directions I didn’t think I would see unless I hadn’t of met you. You continue to make me proud and that’s one of the main reasons I love you.”

You glanced up at him when you had finished reading your vows and watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Harry turned to look at the small gathering of people you had invited to be here for this special moment, and a wet chuckle fell from his lips. “How on earth am I supposed to beat that?”

He turned back to look at you, unfolding a piece of paper from his shit pocket and starting to read aloud. “— My sweet girl, m’love, when we first started dating, straight from the get go I had promised to cherish you from then on out, from our first meeting you instantly captured my heart, you’ve made me a better person, and for that I simply can’t thank you enough, your all I ever want and more, I love you and will continue to love you as long as my heart remains beating.”

There was definitely not a dry eye in sight when Harry had finished reading.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), do you take Harry Edward Styles to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“I do.”

“And do you Harry Edward Styles take (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“Of course I bloody do!”

Harry’s best man, his stepfather Robin Twist steps forward from where he’s sat next to Anne, offering both of you the rings.

The ring slipped onto Harry’s finger effortlessly.

His hands worked delicately to slip yours on.

The officiant smiled adoringly. “— with the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!”

Harry didn’t waste a second in bringing his lip balmed lips down against yours, as the taste of strawberry filled your senses, the kiss was one full of tenderness and love.

It was all official.

You were now Mrs. (Y/N) Styles.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

June 18th, 2015 — the delivery.

"I'm here!"

You looked up from the hospital bed you were currently laying on to see your husband run into the room, his eyes wide as he assessed the situation.

You were laid on the hospital bed, tears falling freely down your cheeks as your mother crouched at your bed side holding your hand and soothing you.

"H..Harry…"You spoke, voice coming out dry and hoarse.

The man rushed to your side, taking a hold of your hand and pushing some of the hair that had dried around your forehead out of your face. "— it's okay sweet girl, it's all okay. I'm here now"

Your mother gulped and looked down at the two of you. "I'll wait outside, give the two of you some space"the older women turned to look at her daughter. "You've got this (Y/N)"

Got what exactly?

Let’s answer that question.

You and Harry never really got to have a proper honeymoon after your wedding, due to the fact he was touring and didn’t have enough time to change the plans when they surrounded the band and management.

So almost six months ago, the band had decided to go on a little break near Christmas time so that they could spend the new years at home with their families and so you and Harry went back to holmes chapel.

And on Christmas Eve, the two of you christened the night and an explosion of love was formed.

You got pregnant.

And now, not even near the full term of pregnancy, your waters had broken when you were on a coffee date with your mother, your nerves were heightened especially when you had four months left in your pregnancy.

Once your mother had left the room, you turned to look at your husband, swallowing roughly. "I can't do it Harry..it's too early..they're not gonna make it!"

"Don't think like that, everything's going to be fine, I promise.” and with that he pressed a kiss to your damp cheek, grabbing ahold of your hand and rubbing the back of it softly.

Suddenly, you pinched her eyes shut and let out one of the most ear piercing painful cries Harry had ever heard, his heart beating erratically against his rib cage.

He stood up. "— I'm going to go and get some help alright..i'll be back as soon as possible"

He ran out of the room his wife was in and towards the reception area, his eyes landing on nurses who were sat there talking away. "— I need some help..my wife's having our baby"

You were clutching your stomach when Harry sprinted back into the room and resumed his position next to you, the nurses coming in followed by a doctor all smiling at you in the bed.

"Hi Mrs Styles, my names Dr Armstrong and I'll be helping you deliver your baby today, to make this experience as calm as possible, I'm going to need you to lift up your legs for me so I can check how dilated you are"

"You've got this"Harry whispered, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

You hesitated for a few seconds due to the fact the only person that had ever looked between your legs was harry, and the thought of any other man seemed daunting, but after Harry gave you a gentle look you slowly raised your legs up so they were bent on the bed and watched with watery eyes as the doctor slipped some latex gloves on his hand before slowly placing his hands between your legs.

The doctor then pulled his hands back, Harry letting his eyes fall on the blood on the top of the gloves, the doctor muttering a few things to the nurses, who then walked over to the other side of the room and started picking up blankets and towels.

What was happening?

"Mrs Styles, Mr Styles"the doctor cleared his throat. "— this probably isn't what the two of you were expecting but this baby is coming rather fast, and when I say fast I mean very, very fast"

Harry gulped and shook his head. "But she's only five months, surely that's not right"

The doctor smiled at the soon to be father. "That is very soon yes sir, but I have delivered babies much sooner than five months, and if we do everything right and take our time everything should be fine, I assure you"

The words just made your throat go even more dry, like sandpaper upon hearing that you were ten centimetres dilated and was soon going to be having the baby which just sent a sense

of dread to vibrate throughout your body.

"I don't want to do this Harry," You cried. "I don't want to do this..I can't"

Harry stroked a hand through your hair that was sticking to your forehead. "— you can do this sweet girl, I know you can, wouldn't have put our sweet baby in you if I didn't"

You nodded your head with all the energy that you could muster up and sat up a little bit further in the bed, your tight grip on Harry’s hand only getting tighter.

"Okay Mrs Styles, give me a nice gentle push."the doctor instructed, the nurses coming over to be on standby.

The next contraction hits your body and you ground your teeth together as you push, putting all the counter pressure in your hips.

Pushing kind of felt like when you were going to the toilet, only this was much more painful.

Tears continued to slide down your cheeks, Harry’s slightly calloused hands rubbing across her own as his own eyes welled with tears seeing the girl he loved and adored in so much pain.

"That was so good Mrs Styles,"the doctor complimented. "You're doing so well, repeat what you just did for me when your next contraction occurs, okay?"

Harry kissed your temple, just as another contraction ripped through your body, making it feel as though you were on fire.

"I can see the head."

The voices were numb to your ears, seeing as you were too busy focusing on pushing, your teeth were gritted together as your head was tucked down to your chest.

"We're so close to meeting them Sweet girl, so close,"Harry encouraged, looking in the eyes of his wife whose eyes were black.

The usual colour were filled with a pain filled black.

"The next push and you should have your baby, give me a big push Mrs Styles."

You pushed, this one feeling much longer than the others, keeping a white knuckle grip on Harry’s hand.

And that's when you heard it.

A cry filled the room, a literal babies cry.

Your and Harry’s babies cry.

"Is everything okay?"Harry quizzed, not removing his hand from your sweaty grasp.

You watched as the doctor nodded his head, letting his eyes flicker from between the two. "— congratulations Mr and Mrs Styles, you have a beautiful baby boy."

A boy.

You had a son.

A beautiful baby boy who was your’s forever.

"Would you like some skin to skin contact with your son, Mrs Styles?"Dr Armstrong asked, holding the baby in his arms.

"Yes please."You answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

The doctor walked forward and gently laid the baby against your bare chest, moving the hospital gown out of the way.

The second your sweet baby boy was placed against your chest, you couldn't help but loud out a few cries.

Sobs even.

It may have been a bit earlier than the two of you expected, but now you simply wouldn't change it for the world.

The Styles were complete.

Harry couldn't help but let a tear fall down his cheeks, not bothering to wipe it away.

This is all he had worked for, and now it was finally here he couldn't be happier.

"Do we have a name?"one of the nurses asked, smiling at the sight of the mother holding the baby.

You locked eyes with Harry. "You tell them sweet boy"

Harry swallowed and nodded his head, not letting his eyes falter from the baby boy attached to his wife's bare chest.

"August,"he spoke. "— August Harry Styles."

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

July 2nd, 2015 — the announcement.

As Harry Styles sat down for his interview, his long hair cascaded down his shoulders as he sat with the rest of the boys on the James Corden Show, a striped shirt hugging his body made of different shades of blue silk, with some black skinny jeans and a pair of chelsea boots.

He greeted James with a warm smile and sat down in the middle of Niall and Louis, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. It had been a while since he had spoken to the press, and he knew that they would have a lot of questions for him.

The first few questions were easy enough - how was his music career going? What were his plans for the future? But then, James asked him the question he had been dreading.

A question regarding his son.

Harry couldn’t be mad at James, it was his job after all and he knew for a fact that it was bound to come up one day, James was his friends, he wasn’t alone in the interview seeing as he was surrounded by his band mates, so he didn’t really have a factor to worry about.

"Harry, there have been rumours circulating that you have a son. Can you confirm or deny these rumours?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked directly into the camera. "I can confirm that the rumours are true," he said, his voice steady.

The host raised an eyebrow. "Can you tell us more about your son? How old is he?"

"He's just a baby," Harry replied, not wanting to really give away much about him. "I don't want to get into too many details, but he's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me."

And it was true.

Just over three weeks ago, little Auggie flew into there lives and made them just that much better than they already were.

The sleepless nights brought the two of you closer,

Nappy changes brought the two of you closer,

And baby sick made the two of you closer.

The interview continued, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just revealed a major secret. What would people think of him now that they knew he was a father?

But when Harry left the studio and checked his phone, he was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from his fans.

They sent him messages telling him how happy they were for him and how much they respected him for being honest.

In the end, Harry realised that being a dad was nothing to be ashamed of - it was something to be proud of. And with his fans by his side, he knew he could handle anything that came his way.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

25th May, 2023 — tour life.

Touring with your husband whilst he completed his last leg of tour was something you would never get over.

Especially now that you had two little munchkins touring with you, it made you think of all the different places the two of them would get to visit at such young ages.

Your little August was weeks away from turning seven and recently you had welcomed a little girl into the family, well not really recently.

A little girl named Margot.

Margot ‘gigi’ Anne Styles.

Touring was amazing, you got to spend all day surrounded by the people you adored to the end of the earths.

You were currently in Edinburgh.

And the two of you had woken up early due to your teething newborn and decided to head down to the hotel gym whilst it wasn’t busy and get in a little workout alongside your husband to try and get your body back to its pre baby shape.

Whilst you got ready and pumped some milk that Margot would be eating later, Harry had taken the kids down to the gym with him and told you to meet him there as that would be easier.

It really was.

As you walked into the gym, your eyes instantly landed on your husband Harry who was on a treadmill, already working up a sweat.

Seeing him working out always seemed to do something to you, and you have no idea why.

Maybe it was because you liked the look of the way the sweat would be rolling down his skin and making it sticky.

Or the way his hair stuck to his temple making him even look more delicious.

Almost ten years of marriage and you still got fireworks erupting your body whenever you were in his presence.

You smiled to yourself as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there good looking," You greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, making him freeze slightly before registering that it was you and smiling softly to himself.

"Hey m’love," he replied, slowing down the treadmill to join you, he leant over the handles of the machine and leaned down so that you were the same height.

"How's it going?"

"It's good. I’m knackered, but it’s good,Just trying to keep in shape for our little ones," he said, pointing to your son August, who was playing in the corner and drawing in his notebook, whilst your eight-month-old daughter Margot, who was asleep in her stroller, thumb in her mouth and head pulled to the side.

"I know what you mean. It's crazy how much our lives have changed since we got married," You answered, wiping down the machine before hopping on and starting up on the treadmill with a brisk walk.

"Yeah, it's wild to think about. But I wouldn't change a thing. We have a beautiful family and I'm so proud of everything we've accomplished," he said, glancing over at the kids, a smile involuntarily making its way onto his face.

"Me too," You agreed, adjusting my speed so that you were now in a slow jog. "Sometimes I can't believe we went from being just two kids in love to parents of two."

It really did blow your mind sometimes.

You remember the first time that you met Harry and your nerves skyrocketed. You were new to the school and knew absolutely no one, so when you and him became friends, it was like the two of you were meant to be.

But now, through all the good and the bad, the two of you had made it out on top, through all the hate from his fans, and all the hardships you now had the most perfect family, one that you would be able to cherish for the rest of your life.

"I know, right? But we make it work and we make each other better. And that's all that matters," Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek before hopping back into his workout mode, matching your pace on the machine.

The two of you continued to work out, talking about the things you normally would, like what dreams you had during the night and what you wanted to do the day before his tour.

“I was thinking we could take the kids to a cafe for lunch today,” You suggested, taking a break on the machine to take a sip out of your water bottle. “— I was thinking it would be something different, I don’t want the kids to get bored, y’know?”

Harry pondered the idea for a second before nodding his head. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”

It wasn’t long before you were all heading out for cafe.

It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you l, Harry and the kids approached the cosy little cafe in the heart of the Scottish city.

After your little gym session this morning, you and Harry had both gone back to the hotel room, had some showers and then got yourselves and the kids ready.

Harry was wearing a dark grey t-shirt with some pastel coloured designs on the front of it, blue ripped jeans hugging his legs accessorised with a pair of blue and white chequered vans, a blue cap and his iconic white bug eyed sunglasses over his face.

Harry had gotten Margot ready this morning, as you were in the shower. She was wearing a dark green romper, with a nice white bow headband pushing her curls out of her face, some knee high white socks adorning her feet.

After making sure that August was ready, his outfit consisted of a beige coloured oversized shirt, a cap on his hat so that he could match his daddy and a cap so he could match his daddy, and a pair of black shorts on his legs.

Once all of the kids were ready, it was then your time to get ready for the day. You shifted through the suitcase containing your clothes and decided on a simple outfit. It consisted of a pink oversized jumper paired with a matching pink pair of cycling shorts, some sunglasses and a pair of trainers on your feet.

It seemed like forever until you were all ready to leave the room.

As you made your way inside the cafe, you could see August's eyes light up with excitement as he eyed the pastry display case.

A worker greeted the four of you as you approached the counter, pulling your sunglasses up so that they were resting on the top of your head.

Your little boy turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. "Mommy, can I have a chocolate croissant?"

"Sure, sweetie,” You nodded your head, adjusting your hands that were resting on the stroller handles as they were getting a bit sweaty. “— But just one, okay?"

You really didn’t want to deal with him having a stomach ache if he ate too many Pan Au Chocolates.

All the food sounded so good.

"I think I'm going to get a sandwich,” Your Husband spoke.

“What about you, baby?" Your husband spoke up, looking at the menu that was hung above your heads.

"I'll have a panini, I think,” You told him, turning to look at him and offering him a small smile. “And Margot is just going to have some pureed veggies."

You placed our order and then proceeded to sit down at a cosy table by the window, the sun beating through the windows. Little Margot comfortably nestled in her stroller beside you and Harry whilst August sat on the other side of the round table so that he was also next to both of you.

It was filled with small talk whilst you waited for your order to arrive at the table, the Scottish weather really was amazing this time of year.

"Daddy, did you know that I spelt a really big word with Mrs. Addams today?" August piped up, leaning forward in his seat eagerly.

August was coming up to seven so that meant that he would have already started school, but due to the fact you and the kids were touring the world with Harry that means he wasn’t able to go to school as much as he would have liked.

So in order for him to continue his studies, you and Harry both agreed that a teacher coming on tour with the two of you would be what’s best, and so far it’s been really good.

There’s been times where August’s kicked off about being too tired to learn but Harry being his father just learns that he inherited his stubbornness.

August was definitely a daddy’s boy through and through, in personality and appearance, he definitely had a little bit of separation anxiety when it came to Harry, but that was totally plausible due to the fact he was away for work quite a lot.

When Margot came into the world, she completed your family, she filled a void that the three of you didn’t know were missing and made your hearts just that much fuller.

Both children were spitting images of their father, you wouldn’t think that you were the one that carried them at all.

They both had his iconic brown curls (Auggie’s were a bit more longer due to the fact he had seen a photo of Harry with long hair and insisted he grow it out.) they had his green eyes that you fell in love with, and had his dimples and bunny teeth.

“Really? That's amazing!” Your husband gushed, reaching forward to fist bump his son with a proud smile on his face. “— What word did you spell?"

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"Wow, that's quite a mouthful,”Harry leaned forward to press a kiss against his mini me’s forehead. “I'm proud of you, buddy."

August smiled at his fathers words before you all began to chat about something else.

As the four of you chatted and waited for your food to arrive, Margot began to fuss and squirm in her stroller.

"Looks like someone's getting hungry,” You went to stand up and go to her aid, her veggie purée that was in the baby bag under the stroller. “Let me get her a bottle."

"I can do it, love,” Harry grabbed a hold of your wrist softly, and stood himself up to approach the stroller “You stay here and eat. I'll take care of Gigi."

You smiled gratefully at your husband as he took Margot out of her stroller and sat her down on his lap as he started feeding her the purée you had made this morning in the hotel room while August and you chatted about what he wanted to do for the rest of the day.

As you finished your lunch, Harry chuckled and began to speak, "I don't think I've ever been surrounded by this much cuteness before."

That was true, your kids were the absolute cutest and the two of you weren’t biassed at all.

“And we wouldn't have it any other way." You sighed contentedly, they were your entire world, without the kids and Harry you're not sure what you would be doing right now.

With full bellies and happy hearts, you gathered your things and headed back out into the bustling city, ready to take on the rest of the day together as a family.

As you left the cafe in Edinburgh, you watched as Harry pushed Margot’s stroller, and held August’s hand so that he was close to you. You could see the fans waiting outside, and knew that you had to be careful.

As you made your way to the car, the fans started to call out your husband's name. "We love you, Harry!" they would shout.

You could feel August's grip on your hand tightening. He was scared, and you didn't blame him. You had been going out with Harry for thirteen years and still his fans didn’t cease to make you anxious. But you knew that you had to keep moving, to show that August couldn’t be scared because he would be scared if you were.

You reached the car, and Harry quickly put Margot in her car seat. August climbed into the back, and I got into the passenger seat, whilst Harry got in the driver's seat. As you drove away, you could see the fans in the rearview mirror, still calling out your husband's name.

"Mommy, why do they want to see daddy?" August asked, you could hear a slight quiver in his voice.

You offered him a gentle smile as you turned back to look at him in the backseat, his hand was holding onto his Sister’s,"Because he's a very talented singer, Auggie. A lot of people love his music."

August nodded, and you could see that he was starting to relax. You knew that it was going to be a long tour, but you were determined to keep your family safe and happy.

As Harry drove through the streets of Paris, you could feel the excitement building in the air. Harry’s husband's tour was going to be huge, and you

Knew that he was going to be amazing. But you also knew that it was going to be hard on all of you.

"Mommy, can we listen to daddy’s music?" August asked from the backseat.

"Of course, sweet boy," Harry enthusiastically reached forward, turning on the radio. Adore You came on, and I could see August's face light up.

"Your so good," August exclaimed, “— your the bestest singer in the whole wide world!” He was tapping his foot to the beat.

You and Harry both smiled, You were feeling proud of your husband and his talent. But also knew that being a pop star wasn't easy. There were always fans waiting outside, always paparazzi trying to get a photo.

You and your family arrived back at the hotel, and you quickly got Margot out of her car seat whilst Harry picked August up, although he was almost seven years old almost, he still like a cuddle.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

May 26th, 2023 — late night talking.

“Can you believe it's been almost ten years since we got married?" You asked Harry as you lifted up his hand to play with the wedding band sitting around his ring finger.

You laid in bed with Harry in Edinburgh, after his show and the two of you were absolutely knackered.

His show was incredible like it always was, he got the crowd going like always and brought a smile on not just your face and the children’s faces but every fan's face in the stadium.

He was in everybody's safe space.

You had put the kids to bed earlier and had both shared a shower together before crawling into bed and snuggling up against one another like always.

Harry chuckled and replied, "I know, it feels like yesterday. We were so young and naive back then."

You smiled up at him, shifting on your side and placing a hand on his naked torso (he liked to sleep in just his boxers), "But look at us now, we have a beautiful family and a great life."

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, we've come a long way. I'm proud of us."

You looked at Harry, "Remember when we used to talk about having kids? We were so scared."

Harry laughed, "Yeah, we were clueless. But now we have August and Margot, and I’d like to say we're doing just fine."

Parenting was definitely hard at times, but you and Harry always worked together to make sure that everything was going smoothly at all times, you both agreed you didn’t want your kids growing up in a household where there was animosity.

You grinned,pecking a kiss to his chest, "August is growing up so fast. He's already six years old."

Where had the time gone?

Where was your itty bitty five pound baby?

"I know, it's crazy,” Harry nodded, rubbing a hand up and down your back in a soft manner. “—And Margot is already eight months old. Time really does fly."

You sighed contentedly, "I'm so grateful for you and our family. We've been through so much, but we always come out stronger."

Harry smiled lovingly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your nose, "That's what love does. It makes us stronger."

It was true.

You and Harry always came out stronger when the two of you had a little disagreement, and that’s what made your relationship worth while.

You and Harry continued talking, reminiscing on your lives, feeling grateful for their life together. You knew that you had both come a long way, but if there was one thing you were looking forward too, it was to see what the future for their family.

"Are you okay?" You asked Harry as you noticed him struggling to keep his eyes open.

Harry shook his head, "I'm just feeling a bit tired today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to Gigi teething and the routings just started to get to me, nothing that a good nights sleep can’t fix.”

Yoy looked at Harry with concern, "Why didn't you tell me? Tonight, when the baby monitor goes off, I’m going to get Margot, I don’t care if you insist I sleep, I’m going, you need to be well rested.”

Harry smiled at you once again, yawning shortly before. "Thank you. But I wanted you to get some rest too. You've been working so hard lately."

You felt touched by Harry's words.

You knew that he was always looking out for you, even when he was struggling himself.

“Let’s try and get some shut eye.” You turned to the left and switched off your lamp on the bedside table before turning back around and snuggling into your husband's chest once again.

This was definitely your favourite sleeping position. His arms made you feel safe, as if no harm could ever come to you or the kids.

“I love you.” Harry spoke, looking down at you and puckering his lips slightly.

“And I love you, darling,” You replied, pressing one last goodnight kiss to his lips. “— from here to eternity?”

“From here to eternity.”

[rileyslibrary]

lazy day with simon got me giggling and kicking my feet in the air. it was mentioned that simon felt insignificant after leaving the army and i was wondering if you could do a little imagine on how he slowly overcomes this or how reader helps him whenever he feels this way thank you, absolutely in love w ur blog!

Hi, anon! I received your request before my vacation and promised myself I wouldn’t write anything while here. Well, I lied. Excuse my poor grammar; I wrote this on my smartphone, and proofreading is challenging. (FYI, this is the story anon is talking about)

———————————————————————

“If you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will hop right out. But if you put that frog in a pot of tepid water and slowly warm it, the frog doesn’t figure out what’s going on until it’s too late.”

That’s Simon.

I believe that the veterans’ support group would be pretty beneficial in boosting his morale. After all, the reader can’t do much to help him overcome his issues other than support him, especially if they come from a different background and cannot relate to his experiences.

Loving him is crucial, but you’ll need a lot of empathy and patience to help him overcome his challenges.

I imagine him being sceptical at first, putting off his investigation of the group. Asking him whether or not he has taken any action would put him on the defensive, which would backfire.

However, if you passively encourage and indirectly let him realise the value of a community, he will be more intrigued by the idea. Sort of like planting a seed in his head.

So here’s how I see it playing out:

You’d begin by sharing your personal experiences. Say, for example, that one day you excitedly announce to him that you’re gathering with your classmates at your local hobby club to start a new project together. Or, perhaps, you’d invite them to your house for dinner and discuss whatever you do there. He’d be watching you all from a distance, feeling both intrigued by your relationship with them and excluded for not having that kind of connection with other people who have the same interests or share similar experiences with him.

And that’s how he’d start looking into the support group. In secret, of course; he wouldn’t want to make a big deal out of it and certainly doesn’t want you to do that either.

He’d casually drop the topic one day while the two of you took a walk in the park. You’d act cool about it, but your entire existence would be dancing on the inside. From then on, he’d gradually open up more, and you’d secretly root for him, pushing him behind the scenes and subtly facilitating his progress.

Up to the point where, one day, he’d come to the living room while you were watching TV, holding two identical black shirts, asking you which one he should wear for his first day of meeting with the group. Your opinion matters to him, and you can tell he’s nervous, just like a teenager attending his first party. You’d advise that he wear the one on the left—although you see no difference in them—and he’d agree, saying it was his first choice.

After the first meeting, he wouldn’t shut up about the group. He’d talk nonstop about someone called Andrew or Jack, and when you asked who these people were, he’d act offended and start giving you more information on them, like you were supposed to know them too.

“I told you about Andrew, the one who’s about to get married.”

“Jack, you don’t remember Jack? The one with the receding hairline who’s had enough and shaved his head off!”

Ultimately, he’d be the one organising dinner parties at your house with his new friends and their partners. And this would go on and on, and he’d be so happy for his new friends and start opening up more, not only to them but to you as well. He won’t overcome his issues per se, but he’ll begin understanding them by seeing them through other people’s eyes—people who feel the same pain as him.

And as for you? You’d be peeking through the curtain at the man he’s becoming, slowly, steadily, and under your discreet influence and subtle direction.

———————————————————————

Bonus drabble I was thinking quite a lot about but couldn’t embed it in the story above:

You come home from the supermarket and enter the kitchen. Simon stands there with an apron, reading from a recipe book and nodding. You call his name, but he doesn’t hear you over the sound of the blender mixing, so you pat his back. You startle him, but he smiles.

You point at the book and ask him what he’s doing.

He lifts his arms and looks at himself. He’s a mess. Everything around him is a mess.

“Baking?” He says in the form of a question as if he doesn’t even believe it himself.

You put the groceries on the kitchen table and survey the warzone. “What exactly are you baking?” You shout.

“Cake!” He yells back enthusiastically and points at his concoction in the blender, “for the group!”

———————————————————————

[thecoolerliauditore]

Pls tell me about Scott's views on women in general pls I'm begging you

o7 and I'm sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

fyi, the post itself isn't NSFW, but I'll be getting all gender theory in this bitch so I'll be referencing a lot of things and putting in pictures of naked ppl sometimes. maybe skip this one if you don't like that

(long post)

Disclaimers

An explanation for the tweet up there

I usually don't write these because I assume the people on my blog have enough sense to realise when I'm talking about the characters vs the CCs or are comfortable enough being a little confused, but I feel the need to extra-clarify here and expand on how I specifically view C vs CC because I think it differs a little from the average person.

To me, C and CC are two separate entities but not entirely disconnected. What differs (e.g. the exclusion of irl relationships -- their wives, kids, etc.) is poignant enough to severely detach them from the people they originated from, at least in my eyes, but there's also the fact that these are not scripted characters, just creators being themselves with a hint of behind the scenes drama-adding and improv thrown in.

For example, CC Pearl is a car nerd. So I assume her character is too.

This is where I state very clearly that yes, a lot of these thoughts come from things I've seen on Scott's twitter, which is undoubtedly the CC and not the C. However I, to me, am still talking about the C because any observations/judgments I could make on actual irl youtuber CC guy Scott Major would be tabloid at best and slightly invasive at worst. I'm seeing these statements within the context of "the death game guy would say this too and I'm writing this based on that", not "this is the inner psychological workings of the youtuber because I, as a fan, can totally tell".

TLDR I don't consider this post RPF but you might. This is a little more RPF-y than my usual stuff. If you don't rock with it we cool.

Everyone is weird about women, and that's okay

One short-hand I've used in the past to talk about Scott and women is just by saying that he's "weird about women" which I'm sure isn't exclusive to him.

(shitpost I made awhile back)

I see a lot of people now who love "villains" and "evil" but when it comes to any traits resembling real life evil (e.g. misogyny in this case) they suddenly become insecure. Just a couple of days back a saw a post on twitter essentially asking for permission to continue liking CC Scott in spite of the "bad things" he did.

And I think, in order to present an analysis like this, I must address that mindset first.

This is not a judgment on Scott's morality, nor is it trying to dissuade you from liking him. This is not saying that he is any more misogynistic than any other player in the series. This is just me pointing out Scott's attitude towards women and what I read it as, nothing less or more.

The feelings that me pointing these things out - be they apathy, disgust, anger or, what I would hope to see most, interest - are your own. I'm not here to tell anyone how to feel and never will try to police that on my blog.

Scott's Relationships with Women

aka. oh yeah this is about minecraft.

Scott and Cleo || "Yeah, you can kill me."

Scott and Cleo's alliance is arguably the strongest in the entire series, spanning through all five seasons and remaining unbroken with no (serious) drama attached. You'd expect from this that they two have a very settled and stable understanding of eachother, yet this isn't a case.

Their power dynamic shifts dramatically from one season to the next.

3L's initial Widows Alliance began on fairly equal footing, built on the mutual agreement that they were waiting for their respective partners to die. Both understood they were eachothers' "plan B" and felt comfortable in that arrangement.

Come LL, Cleo does what she couldn't in 3L, and initiates that plan, going to Scott after her last alliance, the fairy fort, fell apart. Scott requests nothing from her in return.

DL is the longest the two spent as eachothers main ally. Cleo is the one who initially proposes teaming up to spite their "cheating" soulmates and Scott agrees. Cleo admits to Martyn in private that she's aware she's taking advantage of Scott (which I've always interpreted as her talking about all seasons, not just DL). Due to the time they spend together, it's here where it becomes apparent that their initial assumptions during 3L were not entirely accurate, as Scott shows a level of gameplay competency much higher than Cleo's (e.g. teaching her how to axe-crit) but despite this Scott never berates her or thinks any less of her value as his ally.

LimL is probably this pairing at their most unhinged, as Scott, despite once again asking for nothing (or very little -- I'll be honest I'm a bit fuzzy on this) in return from Cleo, allows them and their allies to butcher him repeatedly for time. He gives more time to the Clockers than he does to Martyn, his closest ally that season. Despite this, Scott is never ever considered as a "family member" by the Clockers, despite them giving that title to even temporary allies (like the Bad Boys being their cousins) -- even Martyn gets a title with Scott completely unattached.

SL is relatively more chill, but shows that the two inevitably end up teaming together even despite their oath to avoid eachother that season.

The point being -- again and again, we see Scott literally and metaphorically making sacrifices for Cleo, with the only real transaction he requires from her being that she continues having his back when times get rough. This is despite that he's aware she isn't any more capable than he is and the fact that so far it has only been Cleo in rough times (LL, LimL and SL) and never Scott.

Speaking from a purely transactional perspective, Scott is not getting a bargain here -- and even Cleo seems acutely aware of it, judging by her comment during DL as well as the way she tends to speak of her survival capabilities very lowly in general ("rubbish pvp skills and spiffy one-liners"). I'm speaking in this sense because I've seen discussions in the past about the transactional way Scott views relationships but rarely does Cleo get brought up.

This is at stark contrast to how he treats Jimmy, whose predicted death was what spurred on Scott and Cleo's alliance in the first place.

Scott assumes Jimmy is "incompetent", where he assumes Cleo is capable. When Jimmy messes up, he reprimands him, when Cleo struggles to crit him, he patiently teaches her. When LL begins, Scott's first instinct was to look at Jimmy's lives and note that he was "useless to (him)", but holds no objections to Cleo joining his alliance despite her already having enemies being a potential liability. In SL, he jokes about how Cleo and him being allied is a given and pretty much expected of them, whereas in LimL he explicitly requests from Jimmy a recognition that he still cares ("say love you back!") before he will help him.

Scott and Gem || "You HAVE TO kill me, Gem,"

In SL, Gem settles in very easily in a leadership position within Gem and the Scotts due to her trying to live up to her reputation but also due to Scott and Impulse's more laid back, passive playstyles.

Both Scott and Impulse let Gem kill them for extra health this season, although Scott is arguably much more subservient than Impulse is, with him not only insisting that she kill him in the final episode but also not fighting back (and only yelling for her to stop) when she starts hitting him with a sword during the episode where her task was to literally kill everyone on the server.

Once again comparing her to Jimmy, Scott in 3L had a tendency to brush aside Jimmy's concerns over alliances (e.g. Jimmy questioning if they could trust Cleo) while in SL Scott runs his plans by Gem (and Pearl and Impulse) in terms of who he wanted to team up with (specifically excluding Joel from the potential mounders alliance) implying he held her opinion in some form of regard.

Before this becomes less of an analysis of Scott's treatment of men vs women and more of Scott's treatment of Jimmy vs everyone else, I think it's notable enough to mention that he and Martyn also lacked this sort of communication in LimL. He would inform Martyn of his plans, but rarely was it ever framed as a request.

SL almost feels as if Scott has slid Gem into the slot he had previously designated for Cleo in 3L (his girlboss ally) as he provides her and pretty much forces onto her by the end the acts of service he'd become accustomed to performing for Cleo.

Scott and Lizzie || "You killed her! I don't.. I don't know what to even say!"

Relatively shorter section because this is the one woman he hasn't teamed with, but there's still some interesting stuff I wanted to touch on.

In LL, one of the first thing Scott does is yell at Pearl to revenge-kill Joel for boogey-killing him. Pearl does as she's told and Joel's wet miserable pathetic LL life gets worse from there.

Several episodes later, the roles are reversed -- Lizzie lies to both of them and manages to isolate and boogey-kill Pearl. Scott, instead of reacting with the anger he had for Joel, is almost in a state of shock as he asks Lizzie to let him down so he could collect Pearl's belongings. He doesn't act aggressively towards Lizzie at all, with his most antagonizing act against her being to lie about his intentions when giving her a wither skull.

In SL, he's the only one aware of her early permadeath, but keeps quiet about it almost as if he's in a state of shock akin to when he saw Lizzie kill Pearl in LL. It's not until the others have noticed when he finally brings it up.

Scott and Pearl || "Tilly death do us 'part"

I wrote a whole post just for their relationship alone so for the sake of my sanity I'll be leaving this here.

So now I get to dedicate this section to the meat of this post -- how the way Scott treats women in general impacts his relationship with Pearl and how I view his heel-turn on her as seeping with relevance to Pearl's perceived gender.

In all three of the previous sections, the running theme is that Scott is 1. kinder and more patient with women, regardless of their competency and 2. someone who likes to be in a supporting role to women, occasionally aiding them more than he aids himself and his closer male allies (e.g. Jimmy and Martyn). As shown with Cleo, he assumes that girls have it together, but even if they don't it's not a big deal. When a girl's actions are truly disastrous, such as with Lizzie's, he goes into a state of shock and doesn't really react, preferring to swallow it down and not acknowledge it.

With the amount of times he sacrifices himself, I don't think it's a reach to say that Scott values his own life less than he values the lives of his (female) allies. This specific point actually does extend to his male allies too, shown when he's happy when Martyn literally backstabs him in LimL, but just as with the Martyn post where I point out his victim status-ing doesn't end at only women but includes all the women, Scott has pedastal-ed all the women he's teamed with.

Lizzie is, once again, the exception here due to his limited interactions with her. However that's actually somewhat patched over if you look at adjacent series (such as x-life) where he definitely shows her a level of admiration and respect.

Back to Scott and Pearl.

Their relationship during LL is very standard of how Scott treats women. While the power dynamic between them is obviously more caused by the initial life trade agreement, I don't think it's a far reach to say that Scott is somewhat comfortable in the arrangement.

However, this is also the first thing that sets their relationship apart from Scott with Cleo or Gem -- Pearl is the one making sacrifices, not Scott. She is the one "sacrificing" her lives to him, just in a more non-violent way as allowed by the season's mechanics.

When viewed through this lens, Scott trying to make it up to her and wanting his effort acknowledged makes even more sense. This is suddenly uncharted waters for him. His assuming that Pearl doesn't value him as a person goes hand in hand with him valuing himself less than her.

What Scott has with Cleo or Gem, situations where the other party is clearly uncomfortable with how he treats himself (Gem) or actively aware they are taking advantage of him (Cleo), is equalized to him because he is inherently worth less. What he has with Pearl, on the other hand, looks more equal to most people (lives vs labour) but is wildly imbalanced to him.

It's one of the many factors I see going into Scott's weird decision to abandon her in DL.

An Interlude, Before We Get to DL

La Pieta, Michelangelo

So this has been a lot of words so far and some of you might be wondering at this point: why say Scott is "weird" about women when so far this has been describing how he values women more, is kinder to them, is more patient with them, etc.? How is any of this behaviour remotely misogynistic?

And I would feel horrible if I forced you to read through all of my DL thoughts before I clarified this -- Scott is not your classic wifebeater "women are lesser" misogynist, Scott is someone who subscribes to misogynistic schools of thought and probably considers himself an ally to women, when in reality his beliefs are still rooted in dehumanizing them and these beliefs end up harming the women around him as well as himself.

After all, seeing women are your superiors is still not seeing them as your equals.

I know it's a bit of a meme on this blog at this point. But. Sigmund Freud identified what we know refer to as the "madonna/whore complex", which he described as a pattern of behaviour in men who separated women into being madonnas (pure, holy and admirable) and whores (debased, sexual, deviant). We'll be focusing on the former, the madonna, as it is more relevant to Scott's character.

Freud proposed that the madonna figure was something men projected onto women as a replacement for maternal love. These women are sacred and untouchable, literally as the projection of the maternal role onto them also makes it so that the sufferer cannot feel any sexual attraction towards her (keep this in mind for later).

Scott projects the madonna figure onto his female compatriots -- they are to be protected, served and supported. They are goddesses, queens, but they are never human. The madonna role in of itself is not inherently harmful to the woman, as seen with Cleo who takes control and advantage of it. However, it is enforced, as seen with Gem who at first revels in the superiority but almost breaks down when Scott offers him up as her sacrificial lamb one last time.

I linked this Utena AMV awhile back when vaguely talking about Scott and women, and this was the point I was alluding to.

Girls are beautiful and pure. They don't spit on the street, they don't piss on the street, they don't build hierarchies -- they subvert all the expectations of masculinity that I hate having to deal with. They are my escape.

But what about the girls who do spit on the street? The girls who piss on seats? Who build social hierarchies, who size up their competition?

The girls Scott interacts with are all painfully human. Cleo weaponizes his beliefs and take advantage of him. Scott is smart enough to know and accept this. Gem's playing into a role she has been assigned into by not only Scott but everyone around her. Scott supports the character she plays. Lizzie reflects traits he hates in Joel and Jimmy, but for her, he looks the other way.

Are they "demons", as the song says, or are they no longer girls at all?

(demons, gods, but never humans)

Weaponized Femininity and Women In Total Control of Themselves ;)

Hylas and the Nymphs, John William Waterhouse

Historically, weaponized femininity I'd argue is one of the oldest tropes in storytelling. Whether it's nymphs or sirens or witches or succubi or even more roundabout cases like Helen of Troy, there's countless stories of men's sexual attraction to women leading them to disaster.

One way to view these stories is to see them as warnings, don't let womens allure be the end of you.

There's a lot of good writing done on the femme fatale trope both in the context of weaponizing femininity and as a sexist way to argue against victims of sexual assault, as these stories often say that men who experience attraction to these "evil" women no longer have agency over their own actions.

Look at the painting above, for example - is it the nymphs who are responsible for drowning Hylas, or is Hylas climbing into the lake of his own accord?

Despite the fact we all know sirens, nymphs and succubi aren't real, the belief that men will simply lose control of themselves when encountering a particularly alluring woman persists to the modern consciousness. That there's something inherently dangerous about women and attraction to them.

(this is not 100% applicable to Ninja saying he won't stream with women, but it's the real life example I felt most comfortable putting in here)

Now, let's combine this with what's been said so far -- let's say you don't hate women. You love women, in fact, and you hate the way men treat women. You hate men, in fact.

Yet, you still believe in this inherent power women hold by being female and the loss of agency that men experience when attracted to them -- how disgusting.

It quickly becomes easily to not only demonize men for sullying the holiness of women, but also men, masculinity and attraction to women as a whole.

(apologies for using twt discourse in the meta post but this flew by my TL and i had to grab the irl example of mens non-violent attraction to women being used to frame them as misogynistic before the stupid app refreshed and i lose everything forever)

"To Venner" is a student film exploring a world set within this belief, where all the women have vanished and the men have become monstrous figures as a result of their pent up sexual frustration. fyi this is one of my favourite student films (and ive watched a bunch), but I do think its messaging is worth breaking down (especially its juxtaposition of dirty horrible monstrous sexuality vs pure and beautiful romantic love)

NOTE: this film is super graphic, lots of violence and nudity. have fun. or not

I admit this section is a bit hard to gauge as everyone in the series is gay as fuck. The closest in-series example I can think of is Scott reacting to Martyn's antics in DL with a sort of indigence but otherwise I can't really think of an example of a man expressing attraction to a woman at all, let alone one Scott reacted to. However, I do think it's still worth talking about because it opens up some interesting trains of thought in regard to Scott and Pearl.

For Scott, he himself has never been part of the picture. He's gay, after all, which gives him an edge over the bad straight men who objectify and assault women. Likewise, there's little evidence to suggest he finds the expectations of masculinity frustrating, but I don't think it's too far a reach considering how common of an experience that is for gay men and his adapting of more feminine mannerisms.

Double Life and Corruption

As mentioned in my previously linked post about Scott and Pearl's relationship, I do think Scott experiences what he would name as attraction towards Pearl, so my writing will reflect that.

Pearl is. ahem. not like other girls.

Not actually. But to Scott, she probably isn't like other girls.

She remains unaware of his different standards for her (how could she when she had nothing to compare them to), she acts out, sometimes violently, against Scott's urging (such as when she stole from Scar's wagon). She maintains their already irregular dynamic, and while she appreciates his care for her, she never quite falls into seeing him as a source of subservience the way Cleo or Gem do.

At the end of LL, right before the 1v1v1v1, she monologues to herself that she no longer has to feel bad for killing Scott. Which, in turn, implies she expected Scott to give it his all against her as well.

She entirely fails to embody the madonna with her immature naivete and her questionable morals. She is unpredictable, she doesn't take what she is owed, she is a monster in a lot of ways.

Scott, too, is a monster, to himself, for how he feels about her.

The very foundations of your understanding of yourself being ripped apart aside, let's rewind to the madonna/whore complex. To sexualise the madonna is to corrupt her and make a monster of yourself. Suddenly, you are no better than the men around you, the ones you've grown to hate. Suddenly, you are the grotesque figures in films like To Venner. You are Hylas and she is the nymph. And you are so stupid. Your worldview crumbles around its flawed foundations.

Scott is, however, immune to this corruption. This is a theme that appears in Empires as well, but throughout the traffic series he's prided himself on being loyal and kind and good. His monologue leading up to LL's 1v1v1v1 summarizes it quite well.

He can't let himself or anyone else see this side of him, but the energy needs to go somewhere. To defy fate, abandon your soulmate, is to admit you had a fate in the first place, is to acknowledge that she was your soulmate in the first place.

I've previously talked about how fate and romance are very ingrained in Scott's belief system, if it was anyone else it would've been amazing. He could've been like Bdubs and Impulse or Ren and Bigb, diving into domestic life and performative romance with a stranger. Or the world could've made his happy ending from 3L real, as he got to be Jimmy's husband all over again. I think it says something that he accepts Cleo as a "soulmate" before Pearl.

So what do you do with all that energy and tension, clearly apparent to yourself and everyone else, when you can't let them observe your feelings?

You project them.

Shout-outs to @/legally-allowed-to-slime for pointing out Pearl's comment early on in DL that she "feels like (she's) been broken up with" confirms she never saw Scott in a romantic sense. The "crazy ex-girlfriend" and "this is why I'm gay" comments really did come out of thin air, or perhaps insecurity.

Pearl is the crazy one. She's insane, because she wants me. She wants to be with me, so she does all this crazy stuff. She's lost control of herself because she wants me. She's disgusting.

I mentioned before that Scott is not your classic misogynist, but this is where the gears start turning. Scott's views of Pearl echo that of other players, most prominently Ren and Martyn, that Pearl has been overcome with some sort of corruption. She has become the witch, the demoness, the whore, in their eyes. Scott does not want to be the same as these men and I think his overcorrecting his behaviour in SL makes sense when you view it from this angle, but for now he has to rely on more traditional misogyny in order to navigate this new obstacle.

"Corruption" also implies that she had to have been pure (or at least pure-er) beforehand, something Scott personally knows is not true, but it falls in line with defaulting women to being "madonnas".

This is a Scott post but. shout outs to Ren for being all of this about Pearl but without the complexity of Scott like he literally accuses Pearl of seducing Bigb what the fuck man.

Pearl is, of course, none of that. But she plays into the role of being the witch much better than she fared playing into the role of the madonna.

Sidenote: I know I'm looking at this from a Scott/Pearl POV but I do feel like you can omit Scott's attraction if you look at it from a purely "pearl not performing to standards of femininity I expect and she makes me realise I don't view women as a whole as human which makes me feel weird so now we have to do this" POV. Like idk I think the exact reason he abandoned Pearl is going to be lost on everyone forever so any analysis I could perform is going to suffer at least a little bit of making-shit-up-itis.

I do also think there's something to be said about Pearl being pushed until she performed a role, any role and generally failing at Being A Girl tm but that's another post i think. yknow shes um. a bit. 🏳️‍⚧️ (but also very much not at the same time idk that's gonna need its own post)

anyway yeah uh the minecraft movie looks crazy huh

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

well students,

i really thought we might get have a nice quiet weekend without the resident wannabe-queen-bees trying to make a play for the kingdom. but here we are with grassy checking in for duty posting their harangue against the 'opinions everyone is entitled to, but cling to the pr angle and isn't it weird...'. normally i write this fool off to another wannabe-mean-girl who thinks they're doing something while no one actually cares about them. but, they've made posts policing this fandom (and me, but i'm more focused on the fandom) and i feel the need to share my piece. since everyone is entitled to their opinion and all.

this person made an account to purely give attention to the 'delulus' they can't stand and call out 'bad behavior'. yes, those delulus are fucking insane and need to be called out; but isn't what you're doing giving them the attention they want? it's all you talk about. this constant back and forth, launching thought turds to try start a fandom war is played out. but now you are going after the people who think this might be pr and lumping them in with the crazies? i hope you are including yourself with the crazies, because you sure are one. everyone is entitled to their opinion, right? just not these people who are discussing a celebrity's relationship on their blogs or in group chats. and probably not my opinion when you read this (hi!) and start using terms you don't understand to call me names. imo you are trash just like the rest of them. you and your friends are deeply concerned about those group chats, aren't you? odd. but i digress.

why do you care so much what these mods think, when by your own accord, they aren't harming anyone or sending nasty notes or hate? sorry, i added that last part, but it is implied by your other posts. you spend so much time fighting to confirm a marriage that isn't yours. you give the 'delulus' airtime time and time again. are you that bothered by people disagreeing with you? and why does it automatically have to be jealousy if someone doesn't believe the bill of goods they are being sold? fyi, seeing the awkwardness or plot holes is not confirmation bias. maybe these fans are trying to grapple with the upset of their favorite actor not living up to ideals he has claimed to hold. maybe they are just trying to continue to enjoy his projects without associating her in them. we do not have to bring her into absolutely every conversation about him, but both dumb ass 'teams' sure try. and yes, his wife is plenty problematic. she may not have directly said the horrible things her friends have and then tried to throw (at least one of) those friends under the bus, but you know what is said: when someone sits down at a table with three nazis, and if they don't call them out, there are four nazis at the table.

so what's the real reason for your constant vitriol and desperate attempt to make people 'see the truth'? why are you fighting so hard for a relationship that isn't yours? do you, just like those 'delulus', think you'll get some big prize for being his biggest defender? you don't want to have genuine conversation with anyone, you just want to argue your point of view time and time again. you want everyone to see things through your lens and agree with your confirmation bias.

yes, you, your friends, and the delulus all just love to police the fandom. i thought it was a joke when i was told about the constant policing, but here you all are, over and over, day after day. telling people what to think, telling people what to post, cruising around tumblr to comment on posts that have nothing to do with you. for what? i'm starting to believe the rumblings that you all are part of the plot to advance a certain narrative and keep the nunemployed at the forefront of the discussion. i can't prove it, but again, it's rumored.

i'll close with some words you might recognize, grassy.

these two people do not know you. they don’t care how you feel about them. you will likely never meet or know them in your lifetime. therefore it is really weird to INSIST you are right about certain things happening in their lives and/or behind the scenes when absolutely none of his fandom knows anything beyond what he presents to us.

think about it for a while. why do you care so much if someone doesn't believe this narrative? are you getting paid for this? because if not, it is very strange to be this invested in someone else's marriage. maybe you are jealous because you aren't married. i don't know. but jealousy is your go to.

from the archives: you once told people they would be accepted by you and your ilk if they admitted they were wrong. that announcement and offer gave very strange, cult leader- like vibes. so fucking odd. so here's this -if you can admit you're just a bitch who wants tumblr notoriety (HA) and has an axe to grind, we'll accept you. there's no prize for being an asshole online. ce will never care if you were his greatest warrior on the world wide web. you're just another asshole existing on the same coin with the others and think you are better than everyone else.

i will definitely be using tags on this. i will continue to use them. and as you say: most people are doing no harm. they are discussing things in private chats, but i understand that you all are so upset about not being invited. i promise, being honest with yourself will set you free.

and grassy? shove your dollar store, rip off musing up your ass.

[p1xiemeat]

no fucking way u r autistic lmaooo. that's just the drugs eating ur brain, get a job lazy bitch

i'm literally diagnosed.

you don't know who i am at all so how can you possibly make that judgement?

also i've been sober for 5 years as of this month. so there are no drugs "eating my brain"

i'm convinced you don't know anything about autism. its a common ableist belief that autistic/disabled people are just "lazy" and that is so ignorant and completely false.

& fyi i'm not just sitting at home doing nothing all day. i'm a mother of 2. i have a ton of stuff to do every single day without a day off. and its way more challenging with autism and bipolar 1 disorder. and my youngest son carter is most likely autistic too. he is getting tested soon at boston childrens hospital.

I've had jobs before and i struggled immensely while working at them and have been fired multiple times because of the struggles i have that are directly because of my disabilities. its also very hard to find a job when you have a disability because the world/general society isn't designed for disabled people. thats why i receive disability. and its not easy to get disability either. if i didn't truly need it i wouldn't receive it.

maybe stop being hateful and actually do some research. because whether you "believe" i'm autistic or not doesn't change who i am or my diagnosis. and ur ableist views are harmful.

instead of hiding behind anonymity and trying to project something onto my experience when you know nothing about me, worry about yourself.

you know nothing about my experience by looking at my tumblr blog.

and stop trying to diagnose me. ur not my doctor.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Origin of Hangman

Summary: Hangman contemplates his own personal meaning behind his callsign.

Word Count: 1.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Mentions of Past Iceman / Mitchell!Sister!OC; Mentions of Death; References to Car Accidents; Guilt; Mourning; Loss of a Parent; References to Therapy; References to Mental Health Issues; Mentions of Blood; Crippling Self-Loathing; ANGST

A.N. Set during TGM (after Beach Scene)

This is probably the darkest piece that I’ve published on here FYI. If death and dark thoughts are triggering to you, DON’T READ THIS! You have been warned!

Last day of October, so I thought I would sneak this in for Whumptober vibes even though it doesn’t fit a specific prompt.

Master List

It always seemed fitting to Jake how his callsign was synonymous with ‘killer.’

After his first air-to-air, all anyone could talk about was how great of a pilot he was. How he had perfect aim and not a lick of fear in his system. But all Jake saw in the mirror was a man desperate to rub the blood off his hands, as if the blood of innocent people hadn’t stained his skin since he was a child. As if he could even remember a time when there wasn’t blood on his hands.

The second that his callsign was announced, he was suddenly brought back to all those therapy sessions that his dad set up for him when he was a kid. And then for the first few weeks of his life as ‘Hangman,’ every time that he heard his callsign, it was like the ghost of his mom popped up and slapped him across the face over and over again.

And Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Not with his dad. Not with his uncle. Not with Javy. Definitely not with Bradley. Not with anyone.

The subject was simply too sensitive, too personal, and too overwhelming to talk about without some kind of illicit substance in his system. The last time that he really sat down and talked in depth about his mom was in therapy when he was probably fourteen or so. Every time someone tried to bring up the subject, he shut it down. He always just shut down.

He’d been over it a thousand times with Dr. John and his dad sat him down a number of times over his childhood, but it never fully clicked in Jake’s head. Or maybe he simply didn’t want it to stick. For whatever reason, he always looped around to the idea that it was his fault. It was all his fault.

His mom was dead because of him. He had her blood on his hands.

And he knew that it was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that the night would go like that? It was supposed to be day of celebration, not a day of tragedy. And it wasn’t like he could have changed what happened in the moment. He was asleep in the backseat when it happened.

But those thoughts were still there, tucked in the back of his mind, and popping up at the most inopportune times in his life. The ones where he heard his dad and his uncle and his Aunt Carole and even his mom herself yell those three words at him.

It’s your fault.

And he believed them. Every time.

Maybe it was one of the Mitchell traits he inherited from his mom—the need to turn oneself into Atlas. The one to bear everyone else’s burdens. Ice mourned Jake’s mom, Jake knew. There’s a photo of his father standing at the funeral that would haunt Jake for years. It was the expression of a man who had broken into a thousand pieces the night before and barely glued them back together in time.

But Ice moved on. He found happiness again. He lived his life.

But Maverick coped in a way similar to Jake. There were photos of Jake’s mom all around Maverick’s hangar and throughout his personal belongings. Maverick gave Jake plenty of mementos of his mom, little pieces of her to keep with him for when he needed them.

But the clearest difference was on Jake’s birthday.

On Jake’s birthdays after the accident, when Ice was home, it was like a normal child’s birthday. There was cake with candles, there was singing, there were presents. Jake didn’t want them, but he went along with it to keep his dad happy. After all, if he was successfully lying to his therapists, he could successfully lie to his dad too.

But the birthdays where Ice was gone and it was just Maverick, there wasn’t much of anything. Maverick would take him for a long drive or a long flight, most of which was silent. They would have dinner at a restaurant and then there was a simple cupcake with a singular candle. And that was it. No singing, no presents, no excess. It happened and then they moved on. End of story.

Because no matter how many times he sat down with his therapist or his dad and talked it over, it never left his mind that his birthday and the anniversary of his mom’s death were the same day. And they would continue to be. Forever.

“You have a tattoo?” Phoenix asked, breaking Hangman out of his deep thoughts.

He turned to spot Phoenix behind him, casually sipping on a beer like the rest of the Dagger Squad—save for Bob, anyways—were on the sand. They had just wrapped up a long day of beach football and were all content to simple sit and watch the waves. And it was that serenity that seemed to pull Jake into that part of his mind that he tried to keep under lock and key at all times.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, subconsciously reaching for it.

Between his shoulder blades and below the traditional shirt neckline were two simple wings that somewhat resembled the Top Gun symbol over his mother’s name, which was written in her own handwriting that he salvaged from some letters that she wrote to his dad.

He got it done when he was eighteen. On his birthday, actually. That was one of the years when Ice wasn’t home. Maverick took him and didn’t ask questions. Not before. Not during. And not after. Ice didn’t find out about the tattoo until about eight months later and when he saw it for the first time, he simply pulled Jake in for a tight hug before excusing himself for a moment.

“And that’s the only question that I’m answering about it.”

Getting up from his seat, Jake muttered something as an excuse before leaving the beach on his own. Rooster and Javy were the only two people in the group who knew the meaning behind the tattoo and it was going to stay that way.

Because Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Phoenix looked confused at how a single harmless question had gotten Jake into such a state, but the look on Javy’s face told her that she wasn’t going to get any answers. So, the rest of the Daggers simply bid goodbye to Jake, who carried on as if he didn’t hear them. Reaching his truck, Jake pulled his shirt back over his head and started to prepare to drive out when Maverick came walking over.

“You going home?” Maverick asked Jake, who did not respond verbally. After a moment, Maverick nodded and added, “Give her my love.”

“I will,” Jake stated softly before starting the truck.

Picking up the brightest flowers available from the grocery store on the way, Jake gripped the steering wheel tightly. When he came to a stop light, Jake glanced down at the bright yellow flowers he bought. His dad told him that his mom always insisted that he had to buy bright and fun flowers. Nothing serious like roses or too dark, lest someone think they were for a funeral.

Parking along the cemetery road, Jake walked down the aisle of green grass before pausing at a simple gray stone that had ‘Kazansky’ carved into it. His mother’s first name laid below it with the phrase ‘Loving Mother, Wife, and Sister.’ And then her date of birth and date of death, which was also Jake’s fourth birthday.

Jake tidied up around his mother’s grave before placing the bright yellow flowers down beside the longstanding photo of the family of three—Ice, her, and Jake. It was taken three months before his mother’s death. There was also a toy F-18 that Maverick left there a long time ago that seemed to be integral to the set up now.

He sat down, but did not say a word.

Because Jake did not discuss his mom. Not even with her.

[gffa]

FYI: still thinking warm thoughts about you, and hoping that you're doing ok after the pain of (last week?).

I'm doing all right, thank you for the check in, I appreciate it a lot. I wish I had something of interest to say, because it starts to feel like it's hard to talk about it without some new insight or some clever turn of phrase, as if grief can't be boring, mundane, or cliche. But the truth is that it often is cliche and mundane. When my dad died, one of the things that I could finally do was start to clean things out, he was a hoarder and he didn't want anyone cleaning while he was sleeping (he slept about four times a day) and always wanted to save everything to go through (except he had no energy to do it, so it just piled up, but you couldn't sneak out much because he'd get mad) and earlier this week I came across his ereader, which still had his books on it. He hadn't used it much in the last few months, the dialysis made his hands shake so bad he couldn't hold it anymore, and his lucidity was waning pretty badly so he couldn't focus anyway, but he'd had it for years and I'd always been the one to help him put books onto it, since I was a little more tech-savvy. It's just a reader, he had several of them over his lifetime, it wasn't uniquely special, so I was charging it up and would take his books off and consider using it as my backup, and I'd already spent so much time crying and pouring those feelings out of me. It was just one more thing to clean up and either repurpose or throw out. You know how sometimes you watch TV shows and they portray grief in such a cliche way, where the person left behind discovers an old photo album or a favorite shirt of theirs or a letter they wrote, and they start crying again and you know it's not insincere, but it feels almost like a trope that just happens because writers want to show the audience something, not because that's how it really happens? Well, I looked at that reader, something I'd never really felt that strongly one way or another, looked at his list of books, and immediately collapsed back into grief, I can't take those books off his reader yet, I don't know if I ever will be able to, and I can't explain why. Other than that it was his and he loved it so much once upon a time, it was one of the longest lasting joys he had. I feel like such a cliche about all of this, from the rocky relationship I had with him and the complicated feelings that gave me, but he was still my dad and this is a massive shift in my understanding of the world and it's hard to give myself the space for that, because of course I know that grief often is cliche and that it's okay to have it hit over small things, but logic also has little place here and it's hard not to feel like I'm falling into banal and trite reactions. Because sometimes grief is mundane and cliche and I don't know how to talk about it in a way that doesn't feel trite or like I'm making a big deal out of something that happens to people regularly and should be handled on my own. It still doesn't feel real half of the time and the other time it feels too real and I'm probably going to swing back and forth on that for awhile, but at least I'll have times in the middle where I'll still be able to blog about comics or whatever, because sometimes it's also true that you just have to take a break from it before it consumes you and do something purely recreational and fun.

[safety-pin-punk]

FYI: the author of that ""they deserve to die" is something you should never hear a leftist say. if you do, run" post is a Zionist. I guess that mindset doesn't apply to brown people, huh?

But also, you should consider that this is an extremely shallow view of leftism and violence as a tactic. What, you're a "punk" and you think any punk space got safe without a few nazis getting their teeth kicked in? They didn't. Sorry.

I hope you develop a punk mindset that's a little less about shitty bands and an aesthetic and a little more about having firmer political opinions and not agreeing with Zionists.

Your concern in the first paragraph was addressed in a previous post I’ll link to here.

Going off of that, I’m not sure what on my blog, besides the controversy surrounding this specific post (which again has already been addressed), would ever make you think that I would exclude anyone from the statement of ‘we shouldn't say anyone deserves to die’??? I simply. Do not think humans should be killing other humans. At all. Anywhere. On either side of any war. Like. One human should not be granted the power to decide the lifespan of another in my opinion

On that note, being anti-war is actually both a very punk stance AND a left-wing movement. Though I agree, it is a shallow view of leftism. Because leftism is SO much more than a single movement (like the civil rights movement, the feminist movement, the LGBTQ+ movement, the environmentalism movement, anarchy, socialism, the labor movement, and GOD the list goes on). But also. It *does* include being anti-war and anti-'they deserve to die'.

As far as Punk being anti-war and taking non-violent approaches to the larger socio-political changes in the world, I'd recommend looking into Peace Punk. It was very popular in the 70's and early 80's with bands like Subhumans, Zounds, and The Mob. Here's a great beginner article on it!

As to your point about nazis. I promise you I'm not oblivious to the history behind the phrase 'Nazi Punks Fuck Off'. I also would have hoped that someone would be able to see nuance in a statement that say 'lets not say everyone deserves death' and not read it as 'we should let nazis do what they want'. Because that would be stupid. And if you've interacted with my blog for any real length of time, then you would know that I ALWAYS support punching nazis. But evidently that must have slipped your brain.

Now as far as this part of your ask: "I hope you develop a punk mindset that's a little less about shitty bands and an aesthetic and a little more about having firmer political opinions"

First of all buddy, I think I've already demonstrated that my political opinions are pretty firmly set (and that someone hoping on anon isn't going to change them). Personally, I don't feel the need to scream about my political stances every second of the day to make myself feel validated and like a good person. Because I have a life outside of the internet. But you do you I guess. I would however say that its kinda a dick move to just assume that others aren't well educated or have developed opinions when you've evidently only looked at a single post on my blog without actually looking at my blog. Otherwise you would have seen the EXTENSIVE amount of research and punk culture that I've written about or collected either on my own or in collaboration with others.

Really its either that you just didn't look, or because you didn't immediately agree with me, that you decided that my political views had a very shaky foundation. In which case, please do grow the fuck up and learn how to deal with people that have differing opinions than you without being a bitch and ranting about it on anon thanks.

Also. I like my 'shitty bands'. Get over it (Also like. Punk is inherently connected to music and shitty bands? Do you not know that? Do you understand where punk even comes from? I'm all for not needing to listen to punk music to be a punk as long as you align with other facets of the counter culture, but being told NOT to focus on music that is politically charged and full of punk values and history. Well that's a new one lol)

And lastly. Dude if you don't like me, you don't have to be here? You can leave? No one is forcing you to read anything on my blog??? Bye???

[nerdieforpedro]

Conversations after Coming

Chapter Four of A Safe Place for Us Series

Dieter Bravo x Aisha Smith (plus size back AFAB)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Some talks should happen before sex, but Dieter and Aisha tend to do things backwards.

Warnings: A bit of agnst, many dirty thoughts, dirty talk (I am not in control of myself when I write Dieter. This man says the filthiest things via me I guess 👀), the SMUT (unprotected p in v, fingers, scooping, mixing, again Dieter expresses how he feels), an actual conversation with communication, fluffy

Word Count: less than 1.8k

Notes: We're working through the couple's first few rounds. 🤭 Expect a time skip or two in the future but still lots of Aisha and Dieter being smutty idiots. Just FYI. Comments and questions are welcome. 🤗

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Talking never happened. Dieter had to go back to set, his manager showed up to Aisha’s apartment after the driver ratted him out. He wanted to be there when she woke up but couldn’t, he can’t afford to fuck up on another set. When she does wake up, the bed is cold. It hurts both her body and her heart. “It’s alright. I’ll be alright. I just can’t take him at face value. I’ll have my baby and then…” What? What does she expect? It’s Dieter, trying to force him to be someone he’s not is cruel. She can’t do that to him and doesn’t want him to roll down a dark spiral of self-loathing because he’s absent. Being an actor is demanding. Seeing his text saying he’s sorry that he had to go and promising to speak this afternoon when he doesn’t need to be on set makes her smile as she tears up. “I won’t cry. Not over this. I told him it’s what I wanted so I just need to stick to it. I’m going to be co-parenting after all.”

Still sore, Aisha rises and showers, looking at the marks Dieter made on her body. She finds that she longs to have him back inside her already and feels guilty that she does, she shouldn’t have asked him. Just went on her own, but she wanted him there. Her Dieter. “He’s not mine. I…” She takes a short walk outside and comes back in to eat some cereal and have coffee. “We’ll set a schedule. If there’s a routine I can separate my feelings I think.” Looking at the next six months, she plans out different predicted days that she should be ovulating and that are best to try again. This time was a fluke. Shouldn’t happen again.

Dieter thinks about how Aisha looked below him, writhing from his touch and cock. He thinks about it for a make-out scene with the actress opposite him and only needed the one take. He’s thankful that he can go back to see her. All she texted back was okay. He did try and call her in between shoots but she didn’t answer. He speeds to her apartment and finds her folding one of her blankets, putting it on the back of the sofa. She’s not wearing a bra and just has on a thin spaghetti strap dress that hits her mid-thigh. It’s a deep violet which he find beautiful on her. Grabbing her from behind, Bravo nuzzles into her neck and grinds his erection against her backside. “Hey pretty mama. I missed you. I wanted to hear your voice. I thought about you all day.” 

Aisha tried not to press her ass against his hard length but he was throbbing. Now that she knows what he can do, how he feels, is this going to be how she reacts every time? Her legs are already spreading, Dieter doesn’t have to tell her to bend over the couch either, maybe this will let him get deeper and she’ll be knocked up already so she can stop. They won’t need to when she’s pregnant. “I did too, Dieter. I-I didn’t…” He captures her lips in a kiss as his hands run up her thighs, he smirks against her lips, discovering what she was going to say, “I didn’t put on anything after I showered. Been the whole day without a pair on. Fuck Dee…” The growl he releases pushing her down, forcing her hips back. At some point, he dropped his pants to his knees and his leaky head was teasing her folds.

“You been wet like this all day for me Aisha? Damn baby.” Slipping back inside of her felt like he was at home. She whispered his name while he took hold of her hips. He didn’t begin, just warming himself within her. He could do this after a long shoot or press run. Hell, just in the morning when he woke up. “Fucking perfect pussy Aisha.” Drawing back, he slammed into her soft flesh, feeling her try to keep his shaft still within her walls. He wouldn’t allow it, Dieter wanted to release inside of her, then stir it inside of her with his fingers. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Say it.” His thrusts slowed as her whines grew louder, she wanted him to continue.

“Ah…Dieter please…” She reached back and he grabbed both her wrists, only giving her small thrusts to make her core flutter. “I-I’m yours. My pussy is yours. Fill me again, just move damn.” Twitching, Dieter called her name again as he nearly pulled all the way out of her while his movements became irregular, this time would be quicker than last night but that was fine. By his estimate, there would be plenty of other times to take it slow, take his time. When he felt he was almost there, Dieter released her wrists and pulled her up to his chest to take Aisha’s lips again. Her tongue was sticking out so he sucked on it before painting the inside of her again. Her core seemingly milked him as he remained inside of her for a full minute. “Ugh…Dieter…it’s, you have to-“ A kiss to her shoulder led him to pull out slowly then reach down and insert two fingers, pushing his spend back inside. “W-Wait. I just came, it’s too much.” 

He knew he was overwhelming her. Watching her squirm, but hearing the squelching sounds around his fingers was such a sweet noise to him. “I know Ai. Bear with me a little bit. You and your pussy are playing me a song. It might also help it take right?” He didn’t know that for sure, he hasn’t looked any of it up. Curling his fingers has her go limp with another orgasm and flop over the side of the couch. Dieter helps to lay her down and then sits on the floor next to her, after pulling his pants back up. He’s licking his two fingers on their mixed cum. “We taste good together Ai. I’ll give you some next time.” She watches him, happy to see the joy on his face, but worried that she’ll be caught up in the moment. She needs to tell him. “I’m sorry I left this morning. I can’t afford to piss off this director and crew. Especially now.”

Blinking, Aisha is curious, “What do you mean by, ‘especially now?’” She attempts to turn on her side to better face him but remains on her back. Her legs are still halfway asleep.

Bravo turns to get on his knees and lays her belly, rubbing it in circles, “To support you and our baby. I wasn’t just saying shit last night Aisha. I meant it.” His chocolate orbs are drilling holes into her own. She closes them, unable to meet his gaze. “I know I don’t take most things seriously, you know I don’t joke around with you like that. At least I hope you know.” He lays his head on her chest, sticking his lips out to pout.

Aisha runs her fingers through his hair, “I felt like I was taking advantage of you Dee. Your feelings for me. I know how hard you’ve worked to be sober and stay that way. I didn’t want to be the reason you back slide and also I…” she pauses. “I felt guilty that I enjoyed having sex with my friend that much. You know I’ll want you to be here with me even after the baby comes. Silly celebrations and costumes. I want all of that. It’s such weird-“

“It’s not weird. It’s normal. And it’s what you want. And I’ll be there for as much of it as I can. I’ll work around them. I can afford to fly you out to wherever I am. Let me show you it’s going to be fine. Please?” Large palms cup her face and tears fall again. He kisses the salty streams away. “What do you say Scribbles? Can I get in on your script?”

Snorting, Aisha nods and kisses Dieter’s plush lips, “That was so corny. You’ll have to do better than that. You have an Oscar for goodness’ sake.”

“I have off days sometimes and did I not just come home and put in a lot of work?” A mischievous grin forms on his face, complete with him sticking his tongue out as Aisha throws her head back in laughter. 

“Oh my god Dieter.” He sits back on his heels and helps her to sit up, joining her on the couch with his arms pulling her across his lap where he keeps her for a bit. “You did put quite a bit of work here, how was filming today?” 

“Good. We got more done than we thought and hopefully that means we’ll be done sooner. I want to eat breakfast with you, maybe cook some eggs.”

“Eggs are the only thing I’ve seen you cook Dee.”

“That was years ago. I’ll have you know, I’ve added toast and grits to my arsenal now.” His angled nose nuzzles between her neck and shoulder, Aisha sighs again.

“I’d love to try your new and improved breakfast Dee.” She places her hands over his that are flat against her stomach and grabs them. “I want to do so many things with you, Dieter. We’ll start with breakfast and right now another shower.” He pouts as he’d like to stay on the couch longer, but understands why they need to. No one’s going to be in the mood with a UTI later. 

After they’ve showered and cleaned, they fix a late lunch of ham BLTs, pringles and some lemonade. Plopping down on the couch, the movie ‘Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Amongst Thieves' plays as Dieter nods off. He had gotten up much earlier than she had. Aisha still worried about how everything might turn out, but settled on that she should try since he was so willing to. She put a blanket over the two of them and snuggled next to him on the couch, watching his brows furrow every once in a while. She dozed off watching Bravo sleep, the movie watching the both of them. 

“I could have days and nights like this. We can have it together, just happy.” Happy tears from Aisha this time, it felt like she’s cried a lot today. Dieter woke up and saw her sleeping next to him, he pulled her closer, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll do my best not to make you cry anymore. I really want to.” Dieter Bravo is the happiest he’s been in a long time.

Chapter Three Chapter Five

Couch Potatoes 🥔: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @schnarfer @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @guelyury

@readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

@harriedandharassed

[snifflesthemouse]

Final Post before I go... to remind some of you exactly who this author is...

I am a recovering addict who has almost a decade clean and serene. I know, without a doubt, I am a HORRIBLE wretched human being. I lived with a narcissistic murder/psychopath before prison, and then I lived with all kinds of them IN PRISON. I walked past meaner, more dangerous people to go poop or shower than anyone behind a screen here. I have lived life. I'm nowhere near a narcissist. You have no idea who I actually am, you only see what I construct for you to see to protect my own identity.

Saying I am a narc because people are having trouble following my very long, drawn out posts is stupid. Clarification isn't indicative of being a narc. So literally every single YT channel or anyone wanting to find a different medium for further clarification is a narc then? I think not. I think most of you pick up words and repeat them without thinking of the true connotation of the word's meaning

Really, right now, I am just thinking out loud to myself about why I am attracting dumb people here all of a sudden.

Calling me names, calling any person like me names, only makes me laugh. It's cute to me. When people call me names or say things like they have some authority... it only shows me their water levels... and boy the drought is upon us!

When you've spent the first two decades of your life conning people and putting thousands of dollars up your nose or in a vein, you get to know people. Truly see the worst society has to offer. My cellie in prison stabbed her best friend 72 times. 72. We ate lunch every day together. She was a narc.

OH, FYI... A water level is someone's mental capacity in the con world. I embrace critically thinking people who can form a thought and express it without being like me deep down inside. If you are NOT like me, you are a good person. I am not a good person. DUH.

Deep down inside, I want to show my true colors. I want to be nasty. I want to skulldrag people sometimes. I don't though, because the old ways bring back the old me. I've worked too hard in the real world and I know my real world worth.

I don't owe anything to anyone. I try to be nice and not read the comments, or even my messages. But eff all that.

If you think for one second I am not aware of how terrible a person I was, you are stupid. I know better than you all could ever...

If you feel the need to say something rude, think twice. Please. I won't be held responsible for what comes off my keyboard next if you bring it to me first.

Let's just say I've said it all about myself at least 10x as bad before and 10x worse. I've said it MANY TIMES BEFORE but it seems people are too lazy to get a clue before commenting anymore.

I DON'T WANT YOU CRAPPY READERS AS BAD AS YOU CRAPPY READERS DON'T WANT THIS CRAPPY WRITER. So GTFOH.

That is all, folks.

Well, not really... Truth is I write things, I post them and walk off and live. I took my drug addiction and turned it into an empire where I am retired. I don't make money here. I've never once received shit, even though people quote my work all the fucking time. Funny. What's even funnier is how you can post real shit with real proof and people still be like "WhAt DoEs It MeAn?!?" They believe dumb shit about fucking reptiles but not common sense logic or real proof. I don't want fucking morons around me or on my page. If that statement bothers you... go ahead and block me. I don't block people because I don't ever read anything from hardly anyone else. I read a few blogs I Know and trust. But that's it.

I used to care that this blog was growing. That it had thousands of followers. That I still to this day haven't been able to follow everyone back because of the limits daily. I used to think being nice and just ignoring the rude people was the thing to do, because hey at least they read and you made them think... that's all an author wants. Readers to think... harder, differently, whatever. JUST FUCKING THINK.

SO yeah... do with that what you will. Because this author will continue to do whatever the fuck this mouse wants. This mouse isn't like some Yter or some blogger begging for cuppas and tips. I got cash, and I got ass. I don't get shit for shit. It is my hobby. I'd get it if one of yall paid a motherfucking bill sometime. I might listen. But I do bad all by myself.

DONE

[imaginespazzi]

And we're back Bestie! Thanks for the patience while I recovered & got caught up w life.. I figured there wasnt much sense in providing a semi-coherent ask ha.

Ok so: First, it will make sense after reading but I so wish I could provide some pics for you via anon..

Went to the Sunday game. I didnt even ask to know in advance, but by chance the group/person that took responsibility for tickets to the game got seats a handful of rows up from behind the Dallas bench. I was just in disbelief w that given our jokes on the blog here. Our dear Lou is just so damn cute in person. And by every indication from that afternoon, an incredible teammate. Shes constantly supportive, super engaged, and you can tell things will come together for her before long on the court. Her being such a lovely professional didnt help lessen any appeal! 😣 Anywhooo it would be generous to say shot my shot Im afraid - but as luck would have it, there was a moment where she did a little happy dance spin around to the crowd when celebrating a teammates made 3 pointer (they led at this time) and ended up having genuine eye contact and a small smile back with me. So guess we can say there remains some small hope afloat for LouTea? Or at least argue that it wasnt an absolute failure by me on your behalf lol! My shy, yet somehow also overly confident self (maybe a certain attitude tends to come w being 5'2"?) will take it 🙈

So sitting where we did, actually found ourselves not far from Jacy Sheldons family who were at the game! Seemed nice, pretty quiet during the action. As a College WBB follower that was just kinda wild to me. And there was one other woman (maybe one more in the group) seemingly around Jacy's age w the fam in a custom top w her name, but I didnt recognize at a quick look. Dont think they were former teammate(s) though, so curious who they mightve been? Dont know much about JS off the court. Last but not least, a little down from me, I kid you not there was a woman wearing a VT Kitley jersey. I could only die laughing internally to myself, thinking of sharing this later. Not the most implausible place/location to see one tbf, but we honestly cant escape the OG lore!

Anyways the event was a great time all around. Highly recommend a WNBA game to anyone ofc. I was happy to see a Mystics win (and an interesting game) since Im usually bad luck for my/home pro teams in person.

Actually P.S. Li has such a cool vibe! Very sad to not get to watch her play but gives a fun, animated energy from the bench, to her credit. Easy to see why shes so well liked. And I dont know if you happened to see Shakira Austin that day, but holy hell. She is so tall and so stunning it blows the mind in real life. And while Kira is actually single (perhaps a nice fyi for some of you), I should be clear, Lou doesnt need to worry at all about competition. Theres no way little, sweet me would ever dare to handle a 6'5" woman with such a crazy side 😅 said with complete and total affection for her

Ok I should stop. 🫶

-☕️

Ahh unfortunately you can't send pic on anon. You can dm them to me if you'd like but it's totally fair if you wanna just stay an anon, I'mma just imagine the pics!

DAMN bestie I'm jealous of those seats but I'm so happy for you and so happy you got to see Lou so close! Awww I knew Lou was a sweetheart but I love hearing that for you. OMG DO I SENSE A MEET CUTE? She was dancing and then your eyes met? Personally I think that's a sign! I'M STARTING BRIDESMAIDS DRESS SHOPPING! You know what babes, I think you did great, just means you needa go to another game of hers and shoot another shot! Also hi twinnnn, I'm also barely 5'2 lol

I LOVE JACY! And her relationship with her sister is so sweet so that's so nice you saw her family! That's inchrestingggg info. I guess it could be a cousin but hmmm?

LMAO ofc there was something VT/Kitley related there, of course

Glad you got to see a W! And Li sounds amazing, I hope you get to see her play eventually too. Ooooh I bet Kira was stunning in person like I find her so freaking gorgeous so this totally checks out.

[yesmissnyx]

just something to note from your last poll… personally as a binary trans person i find it uncomfortable to be grouped with nonbinary people as opposed to cis people. because to me as a binary trans man i am a man the same way a cis man is, but not necessarily in the same way a nb man is. idk how others feel about it but to me it just feels othering, saying that we’re any different gender-wise. it would probably just be safer to have two more options, just an fyi :) also not meant to be any hate towards the nb options!! sorry if this is worded weird lol its late

Okay so. As a disclaimer, this might come off as condescending or snappish, but as a queer (vagueness intentional) in my 30s who's seen all kinds of identity discourse rise and fall since the 00s...I have a lot of feelings about orthodox terminology.

So. Forgive me if I'm being needlessly spicy.

It's going behind a cut, since this isn't the kind of energy I want on this blog, and I'm likely going to delete this later because I don't need T//er/fs and Tr//usc//um crawling around here if they find it 😤

This might be controversial, but I meant the slash as an and/or.

Because for me, and a lot of others, transness (and nonbinariness) IS inextricable from our binary gender experience.

I've known (and know) multiple people who identify as trans, nonbinary, AND male/female. (Myself included, depending on the day, weather, how the stars are aligning, etc. FYI.)

And...I think it's important to remember that something like a simple, quick-and-dirty poll like the one I ran...just plain isn't going to encompass the tapestry of how everyone experiences gender. And like? I think that's fine.

Expecting everyone (trans or cis or otherwise) to always express Gender Stuff in a way that fits OUR personal needs is, IMO, unproductive at best. And invalidating/hurtful at worst.

Not to mention, it's impossible. I'm not saying we can't try to be nice and accommodating toward others, but there is no simple set of rules that everyone has agreed on.

We can make requests and enforce our own boundaries, but the uncomfortable fact is that we all have our own needs, and those needs often compete.

Something that causes euphoria in one person is going to cause dysphoria in another. We all experience our transness differently, especially including the words we use to describe our experiences.

I certainly don't think the added "trans" in front of man/woman makes someone less of a man/woman. The same way I don't think lumping oneself in with nonbinary men/women does either.

Like...if you ID as a man/woman, you're a man/woman. If you ID as trans...you're trans. I separated out an individual NB option specifically because it excludes the male/female aspect, rather than includes it. (And that's not to say it even includes all the myriad nonbinary options out there, as well as people who don't use NB as an umbrella, etc.)

It's complicated. Intersectionality is complicated. Far more complicated than I'm qualified to get into, save for citing my own experiences and the experiences that have been shared with it.

Aaaand, that's all I'm going to say! Because this is something I can get really heated about, and I'm not about to go off in my happy feel-good horny time space any more than I already have!

[veradragonjedi]

✍️ - What is your favourite line or scene from the project? for BBB?

WAAAAAA NOOOO THERE ARE SO MANY TO COUNT 😭

I'm gonna bring my top five I think so far (I know this asks for just one, but ugh I just have so many thoughts in my head)

(Edit: this gets more and more insane as I go down the list. Just. FYI..) OH. And. BBB spoilers under the cut! Please... enjoy <3

*Game Theory voice* NUMBER FIIIIVE

5. Everything about Luke changed, but him. He was solid, rigid, reliable.

UGH I'm a SUCKER for moments when Luke's ever-shifting demeanour, ever-changing self, shape and form, are expressed as they are. Luke is the Force, Luke is a corner of the universe folded, origami-style, into the shape of a human. I'd like to believe that you see the Gaussian blur of motion in his body when he moves. Like he is travelling at supersonic speeds through time and space all day every day and we're all just witnessing him at his slowest.

This works EVEN BETTER when you remember that in BBB Luke is totally covered head to toe, with no part of his skin showing. He is Everything. He is always moving. His cloak is always flowing. His eyes are always shifting.

But, despite all that, the thing that is actually Luke Skywalker, that kindness, that strength, remains the same.

He is rigid, solid, in his compassion, but, physically, spiritually, he is ever changing.

4. A sunless, wicked, beauty.

Din's first thought when he sees Luke for the first time, and WHO can BLAME him!? This is in Chapter 1, The Darkness Brings A Shadow, and it's my blog title over at @blood-blindfolds-and-butterflies :3

I'm obsessed with the imagery of it. Just... in awe. I need to eat it. For a very long era in this fic, Din has no idea what Luke looks like, and every word that he first ever describes Luke as is considered wrong.

Luke is not sunless, though he tries to be. Luke hides behind his veil, behind his cloak, behind the locked doors of his temple, and STILL the sunlight peaks through the cracks of his withered body and overcomes everything around it. (This actually reminds me of another quote I love, see 2. !!!) Luke is also, despite the hardships he's suffered, not wicked. He is kind and selfless, but he doesn't believe it himself. And, lastly, Luke would never in a million years call himself a beauty. Him? Scarred? Torn? A vampire?? Luke has not allowed anyone in the galaxy to call him beautiful in a very long time (that's... the essence of bbb. Being loved for who you are, and finding beauty in the ugly and mundane. So obviously this sentence drives me kriffing nuts.)

Luke can't be beautiful, so Din must be wrong about him from the start. And Luke TRIES desperately to get him to understand that he is WRONG about him, but Din has his heart set on learning about and understanding Luke beyond the first image he caught of him, and it's perfect.

3. ...Din was left nursing a feeling of guilt...

Thanks to my wonderful editor (my dad) the verb 'nursing' is in play here. We spoke about this particular sentence after it was posted and... wow do I have thoughts.

Context: Din has found out that Luke is a vampire, and is feeling guilty because he no-longer feels safe around him, even though he trusts that Luke isn't a threat, and knows that it's a horrible thing he's doing (basing someone's character entirely on their species, especially after he had already formed a good opinion of Luke.)

There are two ways to read the word 'nursing' in this context.

1. Din's opinion of Luke is healing. In this case, the guilt is the disease, the pain, and Din is softening the sting. Din is caring for his sore heart, waiting to confess to Luke that he knows he is a vampire, and also regaining his original position on living with him (wants to do that.)

2. Din's opinion of Luke is dying. In this case, the love, the care, is the pain, and Din is driving it out, all the while "nursing" (taking care of—) the guilt he's formed, and preparing to either leave Luke forever or kill him (does not want to do this, however, his son is now in danger, from his point of view)

2. Effortless kindness was so alien, but Luke left a trace of it in his wake, on the rim of every cup he put his lips to, and in the imprint of his footsteps in the ground.

"The Jedi Code is like an itch..." etc etc... 😭 thank you Kenobi.

LUKE oh god. Back to 4, Luke leaves this unwashable, un-get-rid-able trail of kindness everywhere he walks. Every spoon he's ever put in his mouth, every flower he's ever opened, every time he kisses Din's cheek, lips, knuckles, he leaves a little bit of kindness behind, and that kindness is like a virus.

It spreads, infecting others like Vader and Han. It makes roots, it sinks into the ground, it grows and reaches upward, and when it releases its spores, more kindness springs from the places they land.

Luke's effortless kindness is alien to Din because Din has never experienced it. YES Din was given a home, food, armour, by the Mandalorians, but— he was always going to be younger, weaker, and he had to fight for real respect and love just like everyone did.

Luke loves Din. Luke's kindness toward Din takes him little to no energy at all.

Din is mesmerised.

1. Luke loved the child; Din had made him realise that.

Do I even have to say anything. Yes.

Luke is Grogu's dad as much as Din is, we just never got to really see the two of them connect, and I'm really bitter about it ngl.

In the same paragraph, Luke confesses to Grogu that he does love Din (believing that it is platonic)

They're a family they love each other they're helping each other grow and learn and I am so proud of them all.

Because, Din was never really loved. And, now, he believes that taking love from a man who is struggling so hard to even maintain some left for himself IS selfish and cruel and Din won't do that. Din doesn't want ANYTHING for helping Luke. No money, no favours, absolutely no love in return.

Because love, to Din, is like currency. Love is priceless, and help is so so easy.

Luke believes that accepting help from Din is incredibly selfish and rude, as he can't help in return. All he can give Din is love and friendship, and even then, its easier telling Grogu that he loves Din, rather than telling Din to his face (or... helmet, rather.)

But, Din doesn't want that. Because Din believes that that love goes to waste if Luke gives it to him when Din is simply doing something he enjoys.

Luke believes that Love is all there is to give, Din believes he is selfish for accepting it with nothing in return.

Din believes that Help is all there us to give, Luke believes he is selfish for accepting it with nothing in return.

AAAAAAA IT ALSO WORKS FOR GROGU BECAUSE AT FIRST DIN ONLY SAVED HIM BECAUSE IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. BUT HE SOON REALISED HE WANTED TO BE MORE OF A FATHER TO HIM AND GROGU ONLY EVER SAW HIM AS A FATHER FIGURE

Din, seeing Grogu: this is a thing. I must help it find its kind because that is my purpose and I enjoy it. I will not fall in love with the thing.

Grogu: :)

Din: I have fallen in love with the thing.

Din, seeing Luke: this is a Jedi. I must help him find his calling and also learn how to appreciate himself because that is my new purpose, and I enjoy it. I will not fall in love with the Jedi.

Luke: :)

Din: it will not happen again.

Luke: :( *sigh* guess I am unlovable and unworthy.

Din: ........ by Manda this can't be happening—

Oh my god 😭 they are such different people but when it comes down to it family is the most important thing to both of them 😭 oh... ohh

They love each other, but until they realise it, they are soooo incompatible and that's what makes me the happiest sometimes :,)

I love BBB. I love my story. I am in love with it. I would kiss it if I could.

THANK YOU for this ask. A great big mahoosive THANK YOU. I'm SORRY it took SO LONG getting to it, it has been a troubling year. I hope you enjoyed my thoughts on some of these, I hope I was ever so slightly coherent.

And, tbh, I'm heckin proud of this, so. @doublechocolate @airlocksandaviaries @funkyphonophorae @jspookywolf <3 tagging the people who might enjoy a lore dump?

Ily Nova!!! Keep doing what ur doing.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, February 28

WESLEY: Mr. Giles. I'd like your opinion. While the last thing I want to do is muddle bad behavior in front of impressionable youth, I wonder if asking Miss Chase to dance would... GILES: For God's sake, man, she's eighteen. And you have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone. Just have at it, would you, and stop fluttering about. WESLEY: Right, then. Thanks for that.

~~BtVS 3x20 “The Prom”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Final Ingredient (Willow, Buffy, PG) by badly_knitted

Rusty (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Blackout (Interlude) (Darla/Drusilla, M) by SomeKindOfADeviant

Tangled in HelLA (Buffy/Spike, M) by all_choseny

Valentine's Date (Buffy/Spike, G) by all_choseny

Take Me Home Tonight (Buffy/Spike, E) by all_choseny

[Chaptered Fiction]

Amber the Vampire Slayer, Chapter 1/? (Ensemble, OC, T) by Redtheseer

Standing Back Behind, Chapter 1/? (Ensemble, OC, T) by silvain

Dawn Rising, Chapter 45/? (Buffy, LOTR xover, T) by Luna_delCielo

Same Coin, Chapter 3/? (Buffy/OC, G) by The_Eclectic_Bookworm

[Ukrainian language] Forward to Time Past//Вперед у час минулий, Chapter 30/67 (Buffy/Spike, E) translation by Uraniya

Everything is different now, Chapter 20 (Buffy/Faith, M) by alwynjaegar

Blue, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Halo0223

The Steps Saga, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Angel, M) by a2zmom

Xander: A New Knight, Chapter 1 (Ensemble, M) by KingGold77

Early One Morning, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all choseny

Love Lives Here, Chapter 28 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Agency Has It's Price, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Desicat

[French language] Du fond du cœur, Chapter 4 COMPLETE! (Buffy/Spike, PG) by Miss Kitty

Dawn Rising, Chapter 45 (Buffy, LOTR xover, FR15) by Luna

A Breath is But a Soundless Whisper, Chapters 25-26 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Blackoberst

Coming Through, Chapter 44 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by hulettwyo

Oblivious, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by hulettwyo

Ready for it?, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Lilacsandorangeblossoms

Early One Morning, Chapters 18-19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all choseny

I Do!, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

Stomping on butterflies, Chapters 15-16 COMPLETE! (Buffy/Spike, T) by Blackoberst

Risque Roommates, Chapters 6-7 (Buffy/Faith/Spike, E) by shithappens

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: I wish I was better at coloring. (Lindsey McDonald, worksafe) by pinkpersonsblog

Artwork: You Shouldn’t be anything like me, You’ll never be anything like me (Faith, Xander, worksafe) by yarboyandy

Artwork: “ Hello Luv… ” (Spike, worksafe) by bertolts

Artwork: Art - Valentine's Feast Day (Angel, Darla, Drusilla, Spike, M) by genericaces

Artwork: Fanart (Buffy outline, worksafe) by lars_mayzx

[Reviews & Recaps]

Wrapping up the series for the first time: some thoughts! by LateRegistrationz

PODCAST: HELLMOUTH HOMOS: The Freshman (SEASON 4 PREMIERE!) by Fear Queers

PODCAST: Fang Measuring Contest - Angel S05E20 - The Girl in Question by Pop Culture Role Call

[Recs & In Search Of]

ISO: A faith x buffy fanfiction that was over one million words long that used to be on fanfiction.net requested by howsummerfeels

ISO: Does anyone remember the Traveling Spike blog?? requested by TouringTheFacility

ISO: does anyone know the artists of these fan-made posters? requested by Due-Drag5700

[Community Announcements]

FYI, we have opted out of “third-party sharing” for both sunnydaleherald and sunnydale-digest by sunnydaleherald

[Fandom Discussions]

we get the two great loves of giles’s life in one episode and they never once interact but they both share this moment by jennycalendar

the thing that makes me crazy about gethan + calendiles is that both ethan and jenny are so hungry for even a corner of giles’s heart by jennycalendar

do we know by season 8 (or later, if it comes up) if Faith is still a fugitive? Or did the writers forget that? by bisexualblckcanary

HELLO THE FRATERNITY BOY THAT BUFFY’S MOST DRAWN TO BEING “THE ONE TO WATCH OUT FOR.” by jennycalendar

Willow and Buffy never dating is my Roman Empire cause they are so underrated by hermyohkneegranger

[Parallels between Buffy and Faith's life experiences] by coraniaid

lilah and lindsey are so funny to me by justafriendofxanders

Is dawn a real person/human? by StarSilver0117

I am still confused on why Wesley trusted Holtz to keep his word regarding their deal regarding Connor? by b3_k1nd_rw1nd

I am a bit confused on the series finale tbh and how the First was defeated? by b3_k1nd_rw1nd

Anyone else notice an 'oopsie' that you missed the first time around? by Eldon42

Does anyone think Amy could have been a better girlfriend for Xander in the earlier seasons than Cordy? by AceItaliano

Is it canonical that slayers need less sleep than average people? by sadhungryandvirgin

Was Xander always this difficult to watch? by bobsthrowawayacct

What would you say Cordelia is afraid of by the end of Season 2? by Beached-Peach

US college culture question by Reviewingremy

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 6 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated SFW — 4079 words.

Note: I'm so sick right now, I wrote this entire chapter while drugged up on Nyquil and Imitrex. Lmfao. I hope to god it makes sense.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Shane coughed, covering his mouth just in time to prevent the lump of what Kristen called lasagna from flying right into her face.

Her expression twisted in concern, obviously thinking he was choking, and she rose from her chair to slap him between the shoulders with more force than he expected. He coughed again, weakly shoving her away so he could swallow the mass in his mouth and reach for his water glass.

"Are you okay!?" she asked, hovering behind his chair, close enough that he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. Even now, he had to suppress a shiver as the humid warmth lit up an unexpected pleasure center in his brain.

"Yeah," he answered in between several more coughs. He scrubbed at the unshed tears that pooled in his eyes, the raw sting at the back of his throat making him grimace. 

Naively, he wondered if the farmer would forget about her ridiculous demand if he didn't acknowledge it. So, he hesitated, silence settling between them like an unwanted guest that had overstayed their welcome. Eventually, she returned to her chair across from him, her large brown eyes brimming with uncertainty.

"Shane —"

"Give me a minute," he interrupted, rising from his chair. Before he realized it, he was pulling the bathroom door closed, his lungs deflating so rabidly that he felt slightly dizzy. 

Shane's haggard reflection greeted him from the mirror above the sink, small patches of fog still clinging to the smooth surface. He knew he couldn't hide forever, so he sat on the toilet seat and cradled his head in his hands, the image of her imploring face seared into the back of his eyelids like a fresh brand.

Despite a lack of sleep, he'd had a decent day. Almost good. Work sucked; it always did. But he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that seeing Kristen that morning and the anticipation of seeing her again afterward was the only reason it wasn't as soul-suckingly miserable as usual. It was uncomfortable enough admitting such a thing to himself while he made the trek back to her farm after his shift, only to be greeted by her smiling face and a home-cooked meal, despite her dismal culinary skills. But the request she'd dropped on him like an atom bomb made his discomfort significantly worse, especially since he was certain she was blissfully unaware of how her presence had taken root in his life. Piercing his flesh, worming through soft tissue, snaking between his ribs, constricting his once atrophied heart.

Her request was benign. Innocent and pure. But Shane's feelings were anything but.

She'd once called him her best friend after they'd spent a late Friday at the Stardrop. It wasn't often she drank with him, but that night she'd clearly had something weighing on her mind that she intended to drown in a sea of whiskey. Already tipsy by the time she'd arrived, liquid courage urged him to support her quest, buying her shot after shot until her cheeks flushed and her calloused hands clutched one of his biceps for support. The warmth that had bloomed in his belly as she uttered those words had nothing to do with the booze, and he hadn't felt the need to deny it. He also hadn't said it back, hoping she instinctively knew he felt the same.

It was early February, and flakes of fluffy snow danced around them as the duo stumbled from the Saloon into the abandoned town square. Emily had closed and locked the door behind them before patting them both on the shoulder and steering them toward their shared path. The walk was slow, with awkward steps they'd attempted to make in tandem, only to trip over one another's feet and slip on the freshly fallen snow like a pair of spring foals taking their first steps on wobbly newborn legs. 

Her giggles had been more intoxicating than anything Shane swallowed that evening. The chill of her nose when she'd pressed her face to the column of his throat sent a shiver down his spine that even the frigid gusts of winds couldn't compete with. The uncharacteristic huskiness of her voice when she'd invited him inside her home awoke something within him that he'd suppressed for longer than he'd wanted to admit.

Her keys jingled as she'd fumbled them from the pocket of her jeans. His breaths quickened as she'd swung the door open and pulled him inside. And his body had burst into flames when her lips made contact with the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck," he hissed, digging his nails into his scalp as the memory haunted him once again. Almost 6 months had passed, and he still couldn't scrub it from his mind. Kristen's memory of that night was non-existent. He knew the second he'd bumped into her the following afternoon at Pierre's, her curly hair tied in a messy bun and her bloodshot eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses despite the snowy gloom. She'd smiled and waved at him, a bottle of aspirin clutched in one hand and a case of ginger ale in the other.

Shane's heart had sunk through his stomach and settled in his toes. Every step he'd made that day squashed the traitorous organ more and more until it resembled the flattened husk of a possum that he'd once discovered during his morning walk to school as a child. Discarded. Lifeless.

Despite his own hangover, he'd hyped himself up to approach her while sober. Apologize for refusing her advance but explain that it was only because he didn't want to fuck it up by sloppily screwing his only real friend in a drunken haze just to have her regret it the following morning. Or worse, accuse him of taking advantage of her. So he'd gently peeled the farmer from his front and guided her to bed. He'd removed her shoes and smoothed the wild strands of hair from her forehead and face. He'd fed her mangy cat and ensured her fire would burn through the night. Then, he’d walked home to the ranch. Alone.

When Shane gathered his wits and found his way back to the kitchen, the table was cleared, and the nerve-wracking sound of silverware scraping porcelain assaulted his ears, making him cringe. 

"Do you, uh — need help?" he asked, coming to stand beside her at the sink. She'd balanced a plate on the side of the basin and used the prongs of a fork to fling the attached slab of overdone pasta into the disposal. "You don't have to be so stubborn."

"Are you going to ignore my question?" she pivoted, painfully pointing out that she wasn't the only stubborn one in the room by stabbing the plate one last time, sending it clattering to the bottom of the sink. 

"It wasn't a question," he countered. Kristen closed her eyes and lowered her head, frustration emanating from her in waves that were nearly palpable. "Kriss, I can't just move in here. You know that. I can't leave Jas —"

"Do you really think I'd expect you to leave her with Marnie?"

"Then where would she stay?" he asked, a lump forming in his throat. No matter how fucking insane it was, his mind conjured up an image of Jas occupying one room of the farmhouse while he and the farmer shared the other. He swallowed, the lump growing larger as his heart fluttered and its pace quickened.

"You know that cabin at the edge of the property? I had Robin fix it up a year ago because my brother said he wanted to come help out on the farm."

Shane vaguely recalled Kristen mentioning it when he'd stopped by and saw Robin and her son Sebastian unloading lumber from the carpenter's pickup truck. As far as he knew, her brother never showed up.

"It's only one room," he pointed out, confused.

"I know. I thought I could move in there, and you and Jas could stay here in the farmhouse. See — plenty of space for everyone."

"Oh."

Silence settled between them again, and Shane quickly dispelled the happy family fantasy from his head, feeling foolish.

"So?" she hedged, taking a step toward him, invading his personal space like she always did. "I know this seems out of the blue, but I can't think of anyone else who would go out on such a limb for me, Shane. The thought of you walking here multiple times a day to take care of my farm… it isn't fair. As much as I hate to admit it, I'll need help for a while if I have to have surgery, and I want to help you, too. You can stay here for free. You can quit Joja if you want or maybe go part-time?"

"What happens after you're all healed up?" he asked. His heart rate had increased again, and he found himself pacing the floor. Partly to put a bit of distance between them and partly to burn the anxious energy that began to radiate up his spine.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. He wondered if she felt as flustered as she suddenly appeared. "We can run the farm together."

Shane figured that statement was supposed to provide clarity, but it only confused him further — she and the town drunk running a farm together… but separately. 

Anger suddenly boiled within him, bubbling over and threatening to consume him if he didn't leave. Now.

"I gotta think about it," he said, snatching his backpack and stalking toward the door. Kristen said something, her voice beseeching and her aura pressing down on him from behind as she followed him outside and down the steps of her porch. But he kept walking, hastening his stride until he crossed the property line into Cindersap Forest, anger quickly replaced by something more potent. Something harder to control. Something he didn't have the energy to wrestle into submission while Kristen's thoughtless proposal relentlessly bounced between his ears like a rogue ping pong ball — "We can run the farm together."

Marnie's questioning expression faded the second she recognized the hardened and vacant look in her nephew's eyes. Shane ignored her as he entered his room and rooted around in his sock drawer for the wad of cash he'd been storing there. He hadn't bothered to count it in a while, but the stack had grown fatter and fatter each night he'd managed to avoid the Saloon. Maybe the stack would be cut in half by the morning. Maybe it would be completely gone. At this point, Shane couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

❦❧🍓❦❧

"So —" Emily said, sliding a fresh mug of ale toward Shane, "— where's Kristen tonight?" Shane flicked his eyes upward to meet hers, a hardly contained scowl contrasting the playful smirk she delivered in return. Shane never understood how this woman could peer directly into the recesses of his soul, but she never ceased to surprise him. "I suppose she's not up for the Friday night crowd?"

Shane scoffed, taking a generous gulp from the frosty mug.

"Dunno what she's doing."

"She's on your mind, though. I can practically see her dancing on your shoulder," Emily quipped, gathering the collection of empty mugs surrounding him before loading them into the small portable dishwasher she only seemed to wheel out when Shane was on a bender. He wondered if she kept tabs on those instances just as closely as he did these days. Regardless, he simply shrugged in response, another gulp of ale slipping past his lips to join the countless others, blunting his frayed emotions until they no longer scratched at the closed door of his heart like an abandoned puppy.

As much as Shane preferred to sulk without distractions, the cacophony of voices and raucous laughter in the Stardrop Saloon on Friday evenings served as necessary white noise. When he'd lived alone in the city, he couldn't afford to frequent the local bars and still pay his astronomical rent. So he'd opted to drink cheap Joja brand beer with the television's volume set to max. In the Saloon, no one bothered to approach him anyway, so he considered it a worthy alternative to pissing Marnie off and keeping Jas up all night.

"Will you do me a favor?" Emily spoke up again, shattering the delusion he'd just attempted to craft — No one notices you. No one cares…

"Hmm?" He didn't bother to look up at her this time. Studying the strange woman's intuition and why she bothered to waste it on him was no use.

"Would you mind calling her to see how she is? I would do it myself but keep my phone in the back and —" she gestured at the crowd surrounding them, several members waving toward her, signaling that they required another round.

Shane blinked slowly, considering her request. If he were sober, he might have seen through Emily's subtle ploy. Unfortunately, he was well past the threshold of drunk and steadily ebbing toward shit-faced. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth sagging as he clutched the handle of his rapidly draining mug a bit tighter than was necessary.

"Please? I have a healing crystal to lend her. Just ask when I can swing by tomorrow?"

Before he could reply, Emily shimmied her way past Gus and exited the opposite side of the bar. Her shock of blue hair was easy to track as she weaved through the crowd with a tray weighed down with assorted cocktails he hadn't even noticed her mixing.

With an audible groan, unbothered by who may notice, Shane cradled his chin in one hand. Marnie's laugh filtered toward him through the crowd, and he cringed. He'd felt her gaze upon him more than once like a laser, sizzling his flesh from across the Saloon. Lewis was most likely with her, treating her like a business associate while in the public eye. But she would spend the remainder of the night away from the ranch, tiptoeing through the front door at the crack of dawn the following morning like a rebellious teenager. At least Jas was sleeping over at Vincent's that night, sparing her witnessing her caretakers behaving like self-centered fools.

Shane momentarily forgot Emily's request as he brooded, draining the remainder of the ale in his mug. Until the farmer's name escaped the mouth of one of the kids in the adjacent game room.

Kids, he thought with a bitter laugh, recalling when he would have been offended if some bar rat called him such when he was in his 20s.

"You saw Kristen in town?" Sam asked one of the others.

"Yeah. She didn't say much, though. Bet her hand is pretty fucked up, based on how big the bandage was. Alex is supposed to drop some shit off at her place tonight, so maybe he'll spill the beans," Sebastian said, followed by the loud and precise clack of pool balls colliding.

"How much you wanna bet he shows up in the crop top and gridball shorts like that's his normal outfit?" a female voice interjected. Shane could picture her face in his mind's eye, but her name escaped him. Purple hair, lots of eyeliner… It didn't fucking matter. What did was the chorus of answering laughter, presumably agreeing with the young woman's apt assumption.

"You're giving away how much porn you watch. And what kind," Sam joked. Shane — completely homed in on their conversation now — swiveled on his stool and watched the trio as they took turns at the pool table, petty gossip flowing from their lips like a fountain.

"Honestly," Sebastian chimed in, taking another expert shot. A cigarette was tucked behind his ear, reminding Shane of 50s greasers — a whole pack rolled up in one sleeve and a comb wedged in their back pockets. "Remember when he told us he'd have her ankles behind her ears within a month when she first moved here?"

Another round of laughter erupted from the small group of friends; their evident skepticism proven right over 2 years later.

"I dunno, man, I almost believed him," Sam said, lining up his own shot and missing it in spectacular fashion. "There's a reason he wears that crop top and why Haley rides his dick all over town."

"Shut up!" the girl hissed. Shane suddenly remembered her name — Abigail. As if it mattered. "Emily can probably hear you like… telepathically or something."

The utterance of the waitress' name slammed her former request back into the forefront of Shane's brain, along with a raunchy vision of Alex the gridball player seducing the farmer and railing her into next Tuesday. Bile bit the back of his throat and he swallowed, forcing it down to drown in the lake of ale it had somehow escaped from. His motor functions were already loose and sloppy, but he managed to fish his cell phone from the pocket of his threadbare hoodie and initiate a call.

The tension in Shane's jaw tightened with each ring, his teeth feeling as if they could crack at any second. 

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

He immediately tapped the call button again and held his breath.

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

Again.

"Hi, it's Kristen. Leave a —"

He slammed his phone on the bar hard enough for a crack to form at one corner of the screen and snake upward toward the center. Bitterness coated his tongue, and he slammed it harder, watching as the crack branched, consuming the tempered glass entirely. It was oddly satisfying, and he ran the pad of his thumb over the pattern, the slight scrape grounding him momentarily.

"Everything alright, Shane?" Gus asked. His jovial tone was unexpected, but his concerned expression was not. Emily had reappeared and hovered nearby, filling a glass with ice water. Shane wondered just how many eyes had shifted toward him in the wake of his micro tantrum but refused to acknowledge them.

"Uh, yeah," he said, not bothering with an excuse. Emily placed the water glass in front of him, the soft clink of ice inside conjuring up memories of sweet tea on the farmer's porch in Spring. Marnie chattering away while Jas played with the mangy cat. The farmer's gaze laid heavy upon him while he scowled, determined to reject her hospitality at every turn...

His phone lit up with an incoming call, the contact photo easily recognizable, even through the spider web of destruction — the farmer proudly standing in front of her grange display at the Stardew Valley Fair. She'd asked him to take it, first place ribbon pinned to the front of her overalls and a broad smile plastered across her freckled face. He was sure she had no idea he'd saved it after texting it to her, let alone used it as her contact photo.

He snatched the device from the bar, indignation flaring up anew as he aggressively tapped the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Shane? What's up?" Her tone was apprehensive. Almost cautious.

All at once, words jumbled in his brain. Phrases formed and caught in his throat before another took its place. He wanted to ask her why she didn't answer. He wanted to ask her if she was alone. He wanted to ask her —

"Did you have fun with Alex?"

"What?" He could almost see her shocked expression as he screwed his eyes shut and raked his free hand through his hair. "How did you —"

"Why don't you ask him to move in with you instead?" he spat, venom lacing each syllable. He felt betrayed in a way that made perfect sense to his ale-addled brain. Explosions of color bloomed behind his eyes as he dug a fist into them, his jaw clenched again so tightly that his temples ached.

"You're drunk." He scoffed as if her obvious observation was utterly outlandish. "I'll be there soon."

She hung up on him, and Shane slipped his damaged phone back into his hoodie pocket. He contemplated leaving, stumbling to the dock and spending the rest of the night there with a case of Joja brand beer. It was tempting, but he knew Kristen would seek him out, and that would be the first place she'd go, having found him there on too many occasions to number. As much as he loathed to admit it, he was a creature of habit, and she'd become a part of that routine, disrupting his vices with her stupid distractions.

Fuck it, he thought, pulling a wad of crumpled bills from his cargo shorts and tossing them on the bar. The farmer had flipped Shane's entire life on its head, inserting herself into every aspect despite his initial resistance. She knew what she was getting into; he never asked for any of it. He never asked for her.

The walk from the Saloon to the ranch was hazy, but his feet knew the path by heart. Idly he wondered if the outlines of his footprints could be detected like the remnants of blood spatter at a crime scene. A morbid blueprint that traced the path of his daily trek as a useless deadbeat.

"I want you to move in with me."

The ranch was dark when he stumbled through the front door, save for a small night light in the kitchen. Marnie had left it unlocked, probably realizing that Shane would be too drunk to wrestle with his keys, which was simultaneously endearing and annoying. But he shook it off as he plodded toward his room and fished the spare case of beer from the back of his closet. He'd considered getting rid of it multiple times but never did, unease forcing him to toss a spare blanket over it instead.

"We can run the farm together."

He cracked open one of the lukewarm cans and tipped the contents down his throat, draining it completely before leaving his room. Crumpling the empty can in his fist, he tossed it toward the wastebasket in the corner and missed. It lay on the floor, instantly forgotten until the following morning when he would trip over it on his way to the toilet — a problem for future Shane to deal with, along with the shameful hangover and disappointed lecture from his loving aunt.

The journey to the lake dock was just as instinctive, and he soon found himself lying with his legs dangling over the edge, a warm breeze caressing his bare calves and forearms. The night was sultry, so he'd shed his hoodie and rolled it into a makeshift pillow, protecting his hair from the thin layer of mold carpeting the surface of the moist wood.

Time seemed stretched thin, like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. Seconds pulled taunt until they resembled hours, spinning and tilting like a top when Shane closed his eyes. He didn't know how many cans he'd demolished while waiting to be discovered nor how many he had left. He supposed it didn't matter, anticipating it all to make a reappearance before the night's end.

The faint crunch of twigs and rustle of fabric caught Shane's attention, and he lolled his head to the side. Muddy boots appeared out of nowhere, thumping across the wood of the dock like thunder rolling through his head. He groaned, draping an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the beam of a flashlight, striking his skull like lightning.

"Sit up," the farmer demanded. A scrap of metal assaulted his ears, and he grimaced, wondering if she was sharpening a knife on a flint block.

Maybe she's finally sick of your shit and came here to put you out of your misery.

The grim thought amused him, and he laughed, breaking into a throaty, fruitless cough. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted toward him instead, hardy and robust, and he finally sat up, catching the farmer pouring the black concoction into the lid of an ancient thermos. A backpack sat next to her, another thermos poking out along with an entire loaf of bread. She'd clearly come prepared.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the lid toward his face. The uncompromising quality of her tone slapped some sense into him, and he cautiously took it, shiny metal already warm to the touch. “Time to sober up.”