#only to go on tumblr and see everyone else who listens to them with equal passion

[wren-of-the-woods]

There me be relatively few of us The Amazing Devil fans, but what we lack in numbers we make up in sheer, unhinged enthusiasm.

[seeminglydeathlessredshirt]

Ramblings on Disco Elysium

It's taken me a bit to gather my thoughts on this one.

There are some pieces of media out there that people will heap praise after praise upon, to the point where you keep putting it off because there's no way it'll live up to the reputation established by everyone else. Of those, you'll eventually get around to some of them, and realise, to your horror, that they are as good as everyone's been saying. Disco Elysium is exactly that experience.

Before I get into why I adore this game, I feel I should point out that the original devs got the boot a while back and got even more screwed over by the company that owns the title. It's hard to summarise, but simply put, don't buy the game. Also, I'm not going to be discussing specific plot details, but I will be talking about some overarching tropes and concepts that may clue you in on some of the things the story has hidden up its sleeve.

As you likely already know, the game centres around an absolute wreck of a human being. Poor health, mental and physical, and a tendency to do or say things that are generally ill-advised. Worst of all, you have no memory of how you got into this mess, the part of town you're in is reaching its boiling point, and the murder case you're here to solve is the only way you can make things right. Despite the outlandish nature of his behaviours, the detective is one of the most relatable characters I've seen in gaming. Seeing someone brought to their lowest point time and time again and trying to crawl their way out of the pit in a time where I've felt that low provided a bit of solace. That being said, it's not an easy climb, neither here nor there.

One of the most interesting things about this game is the way every single skill is giving a role to play, and not just in the way of having ample amounts of checks for each one, but also in giving them a defined personality. Electrochemistry is constantly egging you on to indulge in various substances, Encyclopedia won't tell you your own name but will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the Coupris Kineema, Rhetoric speaks like a Tumblr user who's about to post the most rancid take you've ever seen, and so on. It all ties in wonderfully with this general otherworldly feeling that comes from the blending of the mundane and the unreal that becomes more apparent as time goes on.

It's in this space in-between the two where the game genuinely shines. The world feels genuinely outlandish, but the people and the conflicts feel real in their own little ways. Revachol lies at the intersection of the modern era's most well-known ideologies, and the consequences of that are felt in everyone you meet. You can fall in line with any one of them, but it won't have much an impact on the situation. You can help everyone you come across, build up trust with your equally fleshed-out companion, and preach about the replacement of the capitalist order with a classless utopia, but nothing can change the fact that you are a cop, the physical enforcer of the state's monopoly on violence. The characters will constantly remind you of what you are throughout the entire game, and it's important to understand that, despite getting to see the detective's own humanity, that his line of work requires doing inhuman things. Disco Elysium is about a lot of things, and the tension between combining two diametrically opposed concepts is one of them. It's a fantastic work of art, and I hope this isn't the last we see of the people who brought it to life.

Don't listen to Rhetoric.

[twstedpometea]

Addressing the "No Harassment" rule people are still breaking.

Hello everyone it's been about 5 months since I last posted anything Ugigiugi-related. However, I was recently messaged over something I still have to address because some of yall ain't listening to what many of us have been saying since this Ugigiugi drama began. This will be a long post.

There has always been a rule of "No harassing" people about the Ugigiugi situation.

This rule has always extended to people who do not want to see/hear the drama in the Twst fandom but also to people who used to/currently follow Ugigiugi. Anyone who's followed my blog knows I've already had to talk about harassment/spamming before but it seems no matter what people keep breaking this rule.

I was recently messaged that one (former) follower of Ugigiugi was being harassed. This same person who messaged me is someone who has helped save/sent us some of Ugi's now hidden art and given us some art sources since the drama unfolded. They have already explained to me that they only follow Ugigiugi on DA now for the sake of keeping an eye on her activity and nothing else.

Now I'm aware there are several reasons people still follow Ugigiugi on DA. I know some people follow her by watching her profile. Others use tabs/HTML links to said profile and so on. Whatever reason doesn't matter people follow people for different reasons. That being said once again I am still seeing this type of harassment going on and it needs to be addressed. I was sent these screenshots and have permission to post these by the person being harassed.

So first off. This is STILL harassment. I'll keep saying it till the cows come home. Harassment of any type is against what a lot of us here have been saying to not do. Secondly, Let me correct people here on something. A watch doesn't equal a "boost" or supporting number on a profile. DeviantArt doesn't work the same way Tumblr or Twitter works when it comes to boosting a profile to the "popular" side of a Social media page. Engagement/activity/views on art pieces are what boost the algorithm. (More so you have to be breaking BIG NUMBERS to get your profile on the front page) That being said? Ugigiugi's numbers have dropped since she was exposed. She used to be pretty close to 600 watchers. She's now down to 315. So if anything she's lost half of her numbers, and with her no longer posting on DA she's lost traction as of this time. Thirdly, it's juvenile to be going after Ugigiugi's "watchers". At that point, you're just looking to start a witch hunt for people. Ironically, you're also going after the people who have been helping me and others since the drama unfolded. I need people here to stop going after people like this. You shouldn't be harassing anyone. It doesn't even matter if they're a watcher/or a fan of Ugigiugi or someone who might be helping keep an eye on her. We've stated time and time again, to not be harassing anyone. PERIOD! I'm going to go ahead and say this if anyone is getting harassed about the Ugigiugi stuff please just go ahead and block or report them. I'm getting very tired of having to repeat the rules because people are looking to use their "ugi hate" on someone. As for whoever this Cerulea--blue person? I don't know if they are a user here or if their under a different name on Tumblr but if you see this post? Kindly, stop. If you have so much energy to be doing something then go source Ugigiugi's traced art (there are still plenty of unsourced pieces) or something more productive than harassing people. You are literally not helping no one at all and you are just breaking the rules and boundaries a lot of people have been set about this drama. -TwstedPomeTea

[its-your-mind]

ya know what, I just put all of this in the tags of someone else’s post, but I have More to say about it

This is a letter to 12-year-old me, who just listened Welcome to Night Vale for the first time in 2013.

Hey, 12 year old me. There are some things I know you need to hear right now.

You are 12, and you’ve just discovered podcasts for the first time. You’re in 7th grade, and you saw screenshots of tumblr posts in nerdy Facebook groups about this super weird one called “Welcome to Night Vale” where they said weird things like “Wednesday has been cancelled, due to a scheduling error.” You think that’s pretty funny, so you check it out.

It’s fun, there’s a dog park no one goes in, and Wednesday has indeed been cancelled due to scheduling errors. The people who live there are delightfully odd - they don’t believe in mountains or angels, despite the fact that the angels sometimes change lightbulbs. When the host describes a new person in town and declares himself in love with him, you (know you’re weird but aren’t sure why - why does Cecil’s comment make you feel so seen?) write it off as equally strange as a disbelief in mountains and move on.

You, 12 years old, only just poking your head out of the hole you grew up in, don’t know who you are yet, because looking too closely at yourself is scary.

You keep listening. When Cecil and Carlos finally talk to each other, beneath those lights above the Arby’s, you start crying. You don’t know why. You don’t understand yet that you are finally being told a story where someone like you was accepted and loved, not in spite of the eccentricities, but because of them.

But that’s not a revelation you’re ready to have yet, and that’s okay. In the exact same way you had glossed over Cecil and Carlos’s relationship development for those first forty episodes, you brush past your own emotions and keep on keeping on. If you keep moving, you don’t have to stop and think harder about what caused you to feel so strongly.

You keep listening. You cheer as this strange town defeats the followers of a Smiling God, you scream into your pillow at the words “he is holding a cat,” you have legitimate nightmares about a beagle puppy, and you bounce up and down as a young disabled girl leads her family in carrying out a successful heist. In the midst of it all, you hear these characters push through the challenges they face by banding together and embracing the things that made them strange.

And slowly but surely, you begin to learn to embrace the things that make you strange, too.

Let’s jump forward a few years. You’re in high school now. You’ve been made fully aware of how people in your life see people like you like Cecil and Carlos, but you also feel nothing but giddy, pure joy each time they talk to each other over the radio. You don’t know how to reconcile those two things.

So you don’t. You slot yourself into the crowd of weirdos at school, and all of you pretend you’re not all going through the same struggle. (Over half of those weirdos turned out to be queer, by the way. Funny how that works out.)

(But that’s another story.)

For now, you’re a sophomore in high school, and you’re feeling lost, and overwhelmed, and alone. And like you always do when you feel overwhelmed, you put in your earbuds and listen to someone else’s story for a bit.

This episode is called Toast. It’s just a bunch of speeches from the characters that have welcomed you into their community. At first, it’s not clear what the toast is to, and so you focus on trying to figure it out. Your mind cycles through possibilities. Is it a funeral? Commemorating a special Night Vale holiday? Someone’s birthday?

It slowly dawns on you. This is the toast at a wedding. Everyone giving the toast can’t help but talk about what a happy occasion this is. But you are still so small, and so so scared, and it doesn’t occur to you whose wedding it might be until Old Woman Josie comes up and mentions them by name.

Without understanding quite why, you start to sob. You cry through the rest of the episode, so much that you have to pause and rewind to hear the entirety of Carlos and Cecil’s speeches to each other. Carlos talks about love as a continuous series of choices, as the turning of a story about “you” and a story about “me” into a story about “us.” Cecil shares how his love for his community and his partner has gotten him through the hardest times, not because it overpowered the difficulties, but because it allowed him to keep going in spite of them.

With the benefit of hindsight, I can see why those things brought up the emotions they did. We want to be loved, but more than that, we want the chance to choose to love, and we want someone to choose to love us. What we crave, at our very core, is acceptance. We just want to be seen and welcomed, no matter who we happen to be, and no matter the person we have chosen to love.

You won’t be able to label yourself as queer for another three years. You’ll meet people who will tell you that something in you is broken, but you’ll meet even more people who build on the foundation that Night Vale began. You will learn that being different, in whatever way you are different, is something to be celebrated, not hidden.

There will come a day when you are safe, and happy, and loved, just as you are. You can let all of yourself shine - your loves, your fears, your odd fashion sense, your passion for weird radio-broadcast podcasts - and the people around you won’t just tolerate it, they’ll admire it.

The road to get there won’t be easy, but I am so excited for you to walk it. You’ve got this. And on every step on that journey, just remember: The moon is still beautiful, mysterious lights still pass overheard, and you are loved.

Sincerely, 23 year old you

[lokisasylum]

Someone on twitter said that ‘FACE’ brought out the true ugly face of the Music Industry--

But I think that it also brought out the true ugly face of the ARMY fandom.

So much so that from locals, casual listeners, to even the most hardcore Jimin biased OT7s finally realized that everything PJMS have been pointing out FOR YEARS was true all along.

That a great chunk of the fandom simply doesn’t care or downright HATES Jimin without reason and they will go to the most disgusting lengths to keep others from seeing the light as well under the constant harassment/threat/gaslighting of being called a “solo anti”.

They’re STILL doing it today, because somehow someone else failure is Jimin’s fault for some reason (but not the laziness of the ones who talked big and then did absolutely NOTHING to support all members solo projects the same way. And people showing full support for Jimin is considered some type of capital Sin).

And the shippers were the worst part of the deal, because most only cared about maintaining the integrity of their delusional narrative rather than protecting AND supporting both ends of their ship EQUALLY. 

Yoonminions wouldn’t stop bitching and moaning a week before the pre-release of “Set Me Free Pt.2″,  about some one-sided beef against Jimin for not “properly crediting” Yoongi IN A SONG & ALBUM THAT WERE NOT HIS TO BEGIN WITH. And only when Jimin said in an interview that the song was a nod to D2, BUT NOT DIRECTLY RELATED TO IT.  Only then did they finally STFU and started supporting.

Vminies... its time to wake up and smell the coffee, mi cielas, this cannot go on. We cannot continue with the crying-parties & embarrassing hashtags on twitter 24/7. You cannot claim a divorce when there was never a marriage to begin with. Do like Elsa and Let it go~♫

Jikookers... where to start with all of you lol... many of you were CHILL and constantly gave updates on Jimin, achievements, streaming parties and methods, voting, buying, funds, ect.

So yes, THANK YOU for your service & undying support to Team Jimin. 

The other half, however, were downright DISAPPOINTMENT upon disappointment. I swear if I could shove ya’ll in a blender on Max Speed I’m pretty sure that blender would malfunction and we’d all die together in a Nuclear Explosion. Because what do you mean you didn’t even bother listening to the whole album in support of Jimin but you suddenly gave a shit when it was revealed that there was a hidden track called “Letter” (also known as “DEAR. ARMY” as it is registered on KOMCA) where JK just did some backing vocals near the end??

And don’t even get me started  on the ones who were caught dragging other members, knowing this would get Jimin dragged as well. Those are the worse and already reaching a level of delusion I’ve only seen in trashcookers on the bird app.

But you know what tho? That’s okay, ‘cause outside of stan twitter, outside of tumblr, FB, IG, ect... None of that shit matters, Jimin's still loved, still winning, Those “other fandoms” that always shaded him got a rude awakening recently, and those individuals that always tried to discredit his achievements ALSO got a rude awakening themselves. And that’s on Karma.

So remember: “Everyone wants to see you doing good, but not better than them.“

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia! Do you have some advices to deal with 'this one opinion'?. When everyone likes your stuff and you are happy with it too, but this one person didn't like/said smth bad, and then you are in spiral that everyone's pretending and actually this one just had the balls to say the truth? I'm struggling and you are in this for a long time, so maybe you have some advices? Take care <3

Hi anon!

It might help to know a little bit of science here.

Humans have what's called an in-built negativity bias. This means that when two things exist, one negative, and one positive, of equal weight, humans will biologically/cognitively automatically give the negative one a lot more weight. No one escapes this, and you're experiencing something extremely universal.

Human beings are also likely to think that negative words are more negative than often intended, and that positive words are less positive than intended.

Because this is in-built, it often requires conscious work to overcome. Many authors on AO3 as an example know the experience of one shitty comment 'undoing' how good all the previous comments felt. It only takes one person saying 'I really didn't like this story' for many authors to trick themselves into thinking this a) must then be universally true and then b) no one else actually likes the story or it doesn't mean anything to them, even when there's literally words right there that strongly suggest otherwise.

The first thing is to acknowledge your negativity bias and that your brain is kind of lying to you. It's doing this to try and protect you from harm, but in a way that's actually hurting you, because brains do stuff that don't actually help us all the time. The reality is that the vast majority of people do not waste their time and 'lie' in comments about how much they like something, because everyone has more important things to do in their life. They're only going to say something positive, for the most part, if they think what they've experienced is positive enough to warrant that. This is more and more true the less well you know someone.

The second thing is to then remind yourself that something negative isn't more true just because it's negative. This is also negativity bias in action! It feels more true, but emotions =/= actual reality - they're real in that 'they are very real and valid when I feel them, but I might not want to make big decisions about other people's thoughts and actions based on them, especially when negativity bias is active.'

And then the third thing is to just remind yourself that everyone is experiencing this. Right now thousands, maybe tens of thousands of creators - artists, authors, show-writers, poets, comedians, sports people, etc. are literally experiencing this right this second. Anon, all your favourite celebrities have likely experienced this (unless they're complete asshats who don't care about other people). Your favourite writers, artists, and more have experienced this. Would you tell any of those people whose works and creations you love, to listen to the few haters that come after them? Do you think they should go 'oh, that means everyone else is lying to me.'

Of course we feel pretty down sometimes. Because I have the ability to delete negative comments, if I get some hate, I tend to delete it. I don't want to see it again. It's my prerogative because my AO3 account and my Tumblr account etc. are 'my space.' When it comes to hateful book reviews, I...don't read my book reviews anymore and haven't for a long time. (I got misgendered too often, even in the nice reviews, so I just stopped).

And then create like a document or notes page or something to write down the positive things you've heard and actually reread them sometimes.

Sometimes negative comments are actually useful. Someone pointing out an incidence of actual racism (like, unintentional, but still happening) or something that is culturally offensive in a story can help us to consider editing the story or change the way we write about that subject. Someone saying they couldn't read a story because of all the typos, might get us to use some free editing software.

For the most part negative comments aren't worth your time. You can't make everyone like your stuff anon. People are going to hate your stuff. That's reality. It's completely inescapable.

But if more people like or enjoy or love your stuff, that's how you know you're on the right track. <3

If your goals in the world are to have most people enjoy what you do, you're already achieving that. One negative comment feels like a bit of a hit (or a lot of one), but it's a cognitive bias that's quite detached from reality. When you take it really personally, it's often a sign to just disconnect and reconnect with loved ones. Talk to a friend, hang out with a loved one, watch something you really love (and even remind yourself that some people hate that thing lol and you wouldn't want those people to stop what they love doing either because it means you couldn't watch the thing you love otherwise), get some rest. Our brains lie to us more and more loudly if we a) are tired, b) are dehydrated, c) haven't been eating or eating well, d) have certain mental illnesses, e) have certain chronic illnesses that cause pain or fatigue.

So addressing all of these factors can help a bit too.

And, I hate to say it, some of it's just practice. I've been doing this for long enough I've lost count of how many hateful things I've heard about my writing. They all still hurt. Some can ruin my day. Some will make me not write that day. Some still play in the back of my mind when I'm feeling really insecure. But they used to ruin my week or month so, like, progress. *sad smile*

But they're still not the majority of the people who talk to me about my writing therefore... negativity bias in action! Very interesting to know about, very horrible to experience!!

[jigensass]

You know I was planning to do like a 5 to 6 part review of 2022 but wrote only two parts as to build up some big narrative about my life and how I changed for the better this year or some shit in some realization that I had finally figured myself out.

In reality, I haven’t changed a damn thing, if anything I’ve went 3 steps back in life.

It’s no surprise I’m mentally disabled. I tell anybody this IRL, all the time this is the reaction I get

‘Yeah it’s called drugs and not socializing because I know I’m a fucking weirdo’

I have to remind people constantly ‘if you don’t tell me that I upset you because of something I said/did, I’ve never going to pick up on it until it gets to a boiling point and then I’ll have a mental breakdown over something that a neurotypical would deem as benign’

Somehow one of my coworkers managed to ignore this statement for a literal year and a half until I subtly noticed them giving me the cold shoulder during one of my fits of paranoia that we all had to sit down and have an intervention about it because they couldn’t be straightforward with me. And all the other coworkers knew about it, and they were afraid to talk to me about it as well.

People just assume that I’m just okay with their bullshit insanity yet I am always the one who has to call out the neurotypicals out on their bullshit. Like they just think because I can make mountains move when I put my mind to it, that I can always do that 24/7 because I’m apparently Jesus to them. This includes being clairvoyant and telepathic. People have played that previous statement off as a joke to me when I don’t get the memo and have to call them out on their bullshit of when the message doesn’t get relayed to me when it should of.

But when I need/want one small thing done it takes literal weeks to get it done and when I needed that thing done, and the person who asked for me to get said thing done now has a metaphorical gun to the back of my head with my hands now being tied, and the person who should have gotten the thing done just IGNORES ME, YEAH I GET STRESSED OUT. I have gotten so cynical lately to subtly call people out on their idiocy by attaching old emails and screenshotting messages to respond to someone as to get the point across of ‘you dense motherfucker learn to fucking read’ when I get to a breaking point that people think it’s funny when I act this way.

It’s not funny, it’s sad and depressing. It sometimes gets to a point when I’ve been having suicidal thoughts.

And it’s caused me to do some pretty stupid shit (like spending hundreds of dollars on a gatcha game without remorse. There I said it)

Wanna know how many mental breakdowns I have had in this year alone? It’s a big number because I lost count.

That’s how stressed I’ve been. That’s how much I’ve been literally fucked in the ass. Now let me be clear. This year, I can say with a clear conscience no one on tumblr has treated me this way. My mental strain is all exerted from one source: my job.

I can see it now in the comments: ‘why don’t you just quit and find a better job?’ My response is, I’m getting paid $25 an hour to deal with idiots. Twenty-five American dollars every sixty minutes.

That’s 3.4 times higher than the national average.

Some days, the idiots are manageable. Other days, not so much.

But recently I have been noticing that the company has been accommodating me. But it’s only after I have hit the boiling point and have gone on a callout email thread. Also this is because I was forced into a position I never wanted to be in and surprise: high stress levels and me having to manage people equals a hell for everyone else. (This was partially my fault because I felt bad because the guy’s mom was on her death bed and he was doing what I was doing and unlike everyone else, I had the balls to call him out on his stupid streak aka constantly checking up in on work AS HIS MOTHER WAS DYING and he actually listened. Funny how no one calls me out on my stupid streaks and here we are)

It’s only after the damage has already been done that people go ‘oh shit, the asset is being serious’ as I lay crying in the corner.

And that what my life has become: I’m a joke of an asset. Because my anger of how people act on The Office is FUNNY.

My stress, paranoia, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts to people IS FUNNY.

And then they get upset when I give them the cold shoulder once.

I live in this hellhole that it’s okay for everyone else to have a ‘fuck it not my problem attitude when it is their problem’ but I have to constantly give a fuck. Even when I’m PTO. Yes my PTO days have become semi-anti stress days. I spent two weeks in August holed in my house because of the hell I went through in May-July. Last week I took two days off to recoup my losses and as soon as my PTO was over on day two, I was back on my laptop playing catch up for the next day.

Everyone else in this world is allowed to fall short except for me. Because I’m the only person who can get results and hit my target.

And then I ask myself why I gravitate to the ‘broken dad who is perfect at their job’ stereotype. Because if I had a penis, they would literally be me.

If you have gotten this far in rant, thanks? I guess?

I forgot to mention the part said how I felt to my family about Thanksgiving and even they have pushed me away because they finally realized how taxing I am to their environment because I spoke up on how I felt.

I know you, the person reading this, want to jump on my DM’s and into my inbox to tell me that what I wrote was wrong and I’m a beautiful person and blah blah blah. I have been down this road before. Words of encouragement are starting to become apathetic to me.

All I want in this hell we call life right now is one other soul who I can be genuinely honest with, as well as be myself without a filter. Someone who can accept me for my faults and not be afraid to call me out on my bullshit. Someone to be able support me after I’m done supporting everyone else. Someone to have around to know that everything’s okay so I can stop worrying for five minutes. Someone who just…gets me.

‘You mean a partner, right?’ Kind of, I guess.

People think I’m so complicated and high maintenance when in reality, I’m not. That I’m difficult to deal with. When in reality, I’m not. I’m just like everyone else when broken down to my main core, it’s just after 30 years of walking this earth, I’ve been everyone else’s punching bag that I’m beat up and worn out.

So when I beat back with words filled with truth or mixed with perceptive lies based on how I feel (usually anger), I just get shoved into a corner and expected to continue to process results like I don’t have feelings.

I don’t understand why my boss got to take a month and a half off this year yet for these last three weeks she had no PTO and told me to my face ‘I feel bad for doing this’. IF YOU FELT BAD THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT?

When I feel bad for doing something, I actually feel bad and guilt trip myself.

You want to know how I’ve back pedaled into any progress of good mental health I wanted to have this year?

Two words on repeat: ‘I’m sorry’ as a response to my existence.

Anyway, let the queen burn in Hell and RIP Kiyoshi Kobayashi

Here is to 2023 possibly being the same level of shit and maybe one person will wake the fuck up and realize how messed up in the head I am. Because lying to my psychiatrist that I’m happy isn’t working.

[darkgreenfangirl]

My complicated, messy feelings surrounding my parents.

Sorry in advance for how rambling and messy this is. I just needed to vent/rant.

Trigger warning: I at one point bring up a really transphobia thing my dad said. As well this post does talk about transphobia, and homophobia in general as well. I also talk a bit about my suicide attempt. I do not go into detail about it but I do bring it up.

I knew that I needed to face my growing messy feelings about my parents sooner than later. But I was putting it off, I think somewhat of guilt. My parents truly do love me, they have supported me since I came out as gay. Hell their giving me a roof over my head with no strings attacted! Compared to alot of people I have it good! Where do I have any ground to talk about my feelings? Where do I get off complaining about them? Sure they aren't perfect, and yeah they say some shitty stuff but in the end of the day shouldn't I just shut my mouth because they give me a home to live and food to eat?

It was actually seeing a post here on tumblr about someone else doing a shout out to people with complicated realtionship with parents who aren't bad or entirely good. That you feel so many things, but feel so guilty about them because they love you, sure they sometimes show that it in a way that isn't okay...And the blogger goes on to say that no your feelings are vaild! You're allow to feel sad, and angry! So here I am expressing those feelings.

The thing is my parents have said, and done things that have hurt me. My dad...yells alot, both at me and my mom. He has always had this temper, and he has said some really shitty stuff lately. Lately he has been parroting back some anti woke shit that the right has been pushing...specially about trans people. I have fought back about some of that shit, only for him to go "oh no that is really happening" or saying transphobia shit like "If a man wants to become a woman all the power to him but he is still a man". Yeah even writting that down makes me ill. I have tried to fight back, but he wont listen. What makes this so sad to me was that he has been at pride, he has said he supports the LGBTQ people! He says he support Trans rights! He has a friend that has a trans daughter but then he says this shit. I don't know how to get him to listen to me. It also really scary hearing him parrot back some of this right wing shit, while I'm not cisgender. I haven't put into words what my gender is but now I fear what my parents would say if they knew I was thinking of my gender? The same mom that once told me when I kind of joke that I wasn't a boy or girl that I didn't know what I was talking about, and that I am a girl and that was that.

But at the same time, when I was younger they use to say alot of homophoia shit, but as time passed they stopped. They went out and unlearned alot of homophoia, and have been huge supporters of me since. So maybe I can get them to unlearn their transphobia? Maybe they would embrace me just as they did when I came out as gay? But can I risk that? Also I just want my parents to understand that some shit they say are just wrong. That eveyone should have their human right to live in happiness without worrying about other people's "opinions" about them. That this isn't a matter of opinion! WHEN IT COMES TO HUMAN BEINGS, AND THEIR RIGHTS THEIR IS NO DEBATE. EVERYONE SHOULD BE EQUAL AND COULD YOU NOT SAY THIS TRANSPHOBIA SHIT WHILE SAYING "oh I Support trans people".

But I can't say this, because I live with these people! I don't have my own income, or anywhere to go if they suddenly decide I'm not respecting them. Or they will remind me how they stand with me and LGBTQ Rights. That they go to pride, and support charities so they can't be transphobia.

Then there is the things they said to child me that still affect me, and my sister. But yet they support us both going to secondary schools, supported us when were sad, always were there to support our passions, and truly loved us with all their hearts. I still remember how hard my dad cried when I tried to kill myself years ago. How my mom cried, and hug me. How they got me help, and them themselves when to a class like thing to learn about mental health. How they have yelled at people when they say homophobia things, and how dad no longer supports the church for this reason. They took me to swim classes, band, choir, and drama club. They watch anime (something they had no interest in) because I loved it! They taken me to cons, and support my nerdy loves! They have given so much money to help out my sister and her family. They have supported charities, janeway, and work every day to support both of us. But yet they have hurt us to. They have yelled at us, called us stupid for not doing things a certain way, told me that I can't be so opinionated because how will I get friends? They have judged friends, talked about their friends and family in ways that made me uncomfortable as shit. I just don't know how to face these issues without them losing their shit at me.

I love my parents, but they scare me sometimes. My parents love me so much, but yet have hurt me. My parents support me being gay, but yet say some transphobia shit. My parents support the LGBTQ community with charity and going to pride...but again say some transphobia shitt and parrot back right-wing shit. I don't know what to do and how to feel about them anymore. I love them, but sometimes I really hate them and it hurts when I do. Because they are my parents. Their my mom and dad, i love them so much. But they are messy people and it hurts to have the reilzation that your parents are not perfect people. It hurts hearing my parents say shit against my community and not understand how it is hurtful.

Sorry again for how messy this vent/rant is. I just needed to vent somewhere.

[enchantcdstories]

Hardly Anything to be Proud About

Word Count: 2192 Tag list/Content warnings: Set after the events of ROS, Listen the lore is so wildly all over the place I’m making shit up now to fit the story better, Fluff, hurt/comfort, lack of self-worth, again my beta editor is a GODDESS and I WISH I COULD TAG HER but she doesn't have a Tumblr anymore. Summary: Being married to the General of the Resistance is a dream come true -- but when examining his various accomplishments, it can be hard not to compare them to your own.

You stared at the vast amounts of plaques and medals that adorned the wall, photos and small objects hung to mark various occasions. They shone like brand new credit ingots, gleaming with importance and authority. There must have been hundreds, all gathered in one location to commemorate past fighters- both those lost to various wars and conflicts and those still in the galaxy. One name stood out the most among the rest. Sure, there were well-storied war heros on the wall, names like Luke Skywalker and Han Solo that were famous across the galaxy. But Poe’s name seemed to appear the most. At least that’s what you saw, anyways. 

Poe Dameron could have his own wall if he wanted to. Hand selected by Leia as one of her most trusted operatives, Poe had acknowledgements and praises galore. You smiled a bit, looking at all the battles and fights Poe had fought in. You thought about all the lives he saved, all the adventures he had seen. Including spice running, you mused with a small smirk. That had been a fun conversation with him. 

He could have had anyone in the galaxy, any gender, any species – but instead he chose you. 

You were certainly not nearly as accomplished as Poe, and you were fine with that – or so you thought. You lived a simple life, on a simple planet, with a simple job in a cantina. You kept yourself afloat and kept to yourself. It was going perfectly well for a long time; it wasn’t super adventurous or daring, but you were fine with it. Looking back, you’d call yourself an unknown. Your old life had seemed almost boring with how mundane it was. Then, Poe Dameron walked into your cantina and changed your world. 

Now your life is abundantly more exciting; you had moved off your homeworld and onto the Resistance base with your now future husband, Mr. Dameron himself,  and got to see all the wonders of how the Resistance worked underneath the skin. You didn’t exactly have a job yet on the base, so for now you did what you were doing at the moment – wandering and exploring. A plaque next to the wall of achievements was displayed on an installed datapad, a list of nearly everyone on the base and what their various titles were. 

Poe had one of the most important ones: General. He shared the position with Finn – who you had loved just as equally as Poe – but it was still important nevertheless. In just a few short months, you would be ranked under him as the General’s wife. That part felt more surreal than anything else. 

Still, a stinging thought had shot its way through you more and more as the months went on. What have you accomplished besides getting a cantina job? Maybe, perhaps, landing the best pilot in the Resistance, but that hardly seemed to count, right? He had a laundry list of accomplishments and was so incredibly important to the Resistance’s cause…when would your worst fear come true? Would he realise that you weren’t what he was expecting and leave? 

The thought made your skin clammy and your palms itch in nerves. Your breath hitched in your throat as you swallowed, looking up still at the wall in both fear and regret. Even your stomach felt heavy with the breakfast you had, as if it could tell you were becoming an emotional wreck. The final straw for you was the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, instead choosing to burn them and start to slowly make them red. 

The only thing that was able to pull you from the dreading and upsetting thoughts was the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway; boots thumped against newly waxed white floors, getting closer and closer. You frantically rubbed at your eyes, to hide the fact that you were starting to get emotional staring at the dumb wall. The footsteps got quicker, whoever was coming had clearly broken out into a light jog towards you. 

Turning your head, you saw his outfit before you saw his face- that unmistakable orange jumpsuit with the white vest and various belts and buckles and tubes that hung off of it. A grin fell onto your face automatically. It was still hard to not get flustered seeing Poe in that damn uniform, no matter how upset you had just been. He had just gotten off training for the day, judging by the tired look on his face and the way his curls clung to his head and shone with sweat. He wore a grin on his face regardless, Poe’s eyes only on you. 

“Hey, there you are,” Poe strode a few steps towards you, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close. “I missed you.” He grinned, bringing his nose to your hair and planting a small kiss on it. He smelled like the sharpness of his cologne and sweat, his body was a dead give away with how warm he was. You wrap one arm around him, returning the closeness and pressing yourself against him so that you practically melded together. You glanced back up at the board one last time, catching a glimpse of Poe’s name again next to a list of titles. Pilot, Commander, Captain, acting General, General. It all seemed so important. 

“Hey, whatcha looking at?” Poe relaxed his grip on you for a moment, pulling back so he could get a better look at you. You turned back to him, offering him a reassuring smile and shaking your head. 

“Nothing, just… all the stuff you’ve done.” You gesture to the board with your free hand. Poe slid a lopsided, goofy grin onto his face, lifting his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck. You swore you saw a flush spread across his cheeks. 

“Oh yeah that’s all…nothing, ya know? Nothing.” He shrugged it off. You shook your head, a bit gobsmacked that he could just brush off countless battles and fights like it was just another day job. A scoff escaped your lips without meaning to, and you turned it into a joking one with a smile. 

“It’s hardly nothing. You’ll be known for generations to come. You’re probably in history datapads now for students to study.” It wasn’t a lie, he was responsible for helping end the First Order; that wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Poe wrapped his long arms around your shoulders, holding you close and lightly rocking you a bit. He looked up to the wall, just the same as you, before placing a kiss on the side of your temple. 

“Yeah, and you’ll be right by my side for it all, future Dameron.” He grinned. Your smile faded a bit, turning more sad than reassuring. 

“Sure, just not nearly as…accomplished or anything.” You murmured softly. The rocking stopped abruptly, Poe unwrapping himself and pulling you so you were no longer facing the wall, but facing him. His rich, brown eyes searching into yours, worry creasing across his eyebrows. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s that about?” 

Worried that you had triggered something in him that would result in your earlier fears, you shook your head, slapping on the fake reassuring smile all over again. You reached up and fiddled with the collar on the white vest on his suit, smoothing it out and running a hand over the Resistance logo. 

“It’s nothing, really. Come on, we need to get back home, and you need a shower.” You grinned, patting his chest lightheartedly. You turned without letting him answer, knowing that if you stayed at the wall any longer you’d have to talk about this some more. The more you talked about it, the more you were scared that he’d come to the realisation you were terrified of. Poe grabbed your wrist, preventing you from walking any further away, and gripped it just tight enough that you couldn’t break free, but wasn’t hurting you. 

“Sweetheart? What’s going on.” His tone wasn’t asking. The dynamic in your relationship was that he was generally the more mature one; the one that would prevent you from eating too many sweets, the one that would make sure you remembered important things when you forgot. Now he was looking at you with those same stern eyes. You felt your chest get heavier and your eyes linger back to that stupid board. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe. Damn it, you thought, you didn't want to cry today. A list of battles that Poe had given up so much for stared back at you. 

The sound of footsteps approaching down the hall alerted both Poe and yourself, Poe turning to watch as several young trainee pilots were making their way towards the pair of you. He kept his grip on your arm and pulled you off to the side, both out of the way and out of view – as if he could tell this was going to get upsetting. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don't tell me what’s upsetting you.” His grip on your wrist relaxed, instead turning to rub at your arm comfortingly. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

“It’s just. You’ve done so much with your life. You’ve fought battles and saved lives, ended regimes and fueled a rebellion.” Tears pricked at your eyes again, the same stinging coming back and reddening them. “And what have I done? Split up bar fights and wipe up spilled Jet Juice.” You paused to look at Poe’s face, judging his reaction. His stern look was gone, replaced by a worried one. Another breath. “People are going to talk about me. About what I’m contributing and I just…don’t know what to do.” 

Poe didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as his tongue moistened his bottom lip. Tears were rolling down your cheeks now, unable to be stopped. Poe said nothing as he pulled you in close again, burying his face fully in your hair and wrapping his arms around you. It was a different feeling than his earlier hug; then, he had greeted you. Now, he was holding you. Your face was buried in his chest, a bit uncomfortable from the uniform he wore. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” He mumbled, hands tangled tightly into your hair. You shook your head as much as you could against the tubes and panels that were attached to his uniform. 

“You could have anyone you want in the galaxy. I shouldn’t be holding someone so accomplished back like this.” Your voice was just as muffled as his, though your voice was softer given that the tears had started flowing again. 

“But I chose you. All I want is you.” 

“You might change your mind, though. I’m hardly anything to be proud about.” Poe whispered quiet little ‘shhs’ into your hair. 

“Don’t say things like that, Sweetheart. It’s not true. You know it’s not true, right?” He placed a kiss into your hair one last time and pulled back, so you were both looking at each other again. He wiped away the tears that stuck to your face with his thumbs. “Did someone say something to you? You know I’m a general, right? You give me names and I’ll make sure they’re kicked off planet so fast…” 

You shook your head no, a small smile breaking onto your face as you did so. The tears made your face all blotchy and red, but you couldn’t do much to stop them.  

“No it’s just…me. My brain. Speculating.”  Poe leaned forward and kissed your forehead, before resting his own against yours. 

“Well it needs to stop.” He said, returning your soft smile. His own eyes had been watering, and the thought of making him cry made you regret getting emotional to start. “I asked you to marry me for a reason, you know. You know what reason?” 

You shook your head softly.

“Because you were the only person in that Cantina who’s smile made my heart light up. I would fight another war just to be able to say that you were the one I’d come home to. I’m proud of you for just being you.” 

The tears were falling again, though this time they weren’t sad- but happy. You believed him. For just a few moments, Poe held you there. Both of you were quiet as he gently comforted you down from whatever hell was going on in your brain. Finally, after a minute or two, Poe pulled back from you. 

“Besides,” His voice had returned to its normal self. No more sternness or worry filling his every word.  “You’ve done one of the most impressive things I think anyone on this base can do.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You got one of the Generals of the Resistance to settle down and stay out of trouble.” 

[firesoulstuff]

I’ve been debating on posting this, mostly because I know this likely wasn’t meant to be one of the many deep meanings of Encanto, but it’s been a few days since this realization struck me and I can’t stop thinking about it.

So, a few weeks ago I watched Encanto, and like everyone else I’ve talked to I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed the music, the story, the representation of a large family with generational trauma, ect. But there was also something about it that really touched me, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was until a few days after I watched the movie. After seeing Tumblr threads, Reddit posts, and entertainment articles dominating the internet, debating whether or not Mirabel secretly received a gift or not it hit me. This thing about it that touched me was in Mirabel, I saw for the first time ever a representation of living with a learning disability.

I was diagnosed with NLD (Non-Verbal Learning Disorder) when I was nine, and let me tell you it. Messed. Me. Up. Not the actual learning disability, but the label of having it. The knowledge that I look like my family and friends, I talk like them, I move like them, I can stand among them and you could never pick me out of the crowd as being the one who is “broken”, yet I feel set apart from them.

Mirabel looks like her family. At the start of the movie the neighborhood kids assume she has a gift and they have to be told she doesn’t, because there isn’t anything about not having a gift that makes it obvious.

The song “Waiting on a Miracle” hit me particularly hard when I listened to it a second time. Mirabel telling herself not to be mad or upset when everyone was celebrating Antonio’s gift, and that she would stand on the side as everyone else shines. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to put feelings like that into words except for maybe “I don’t get THAT.” “THAT is for normal people; not me.” And these are feelings I would never want my loved ones to feel, so of course I would never hope for one of them to be hit with a diagnosis for an invisible disability. And yet... And yet sometimes I’m mad I’m the only one.

Mirabel singing about all of her family’s gifts. “I can’t move the mountains” “I can’t make the flowers bloom.” Was PEAK. I grew up with it being drilled into my head “It’s ok, everybody’s different.” But it never FELT ok and THIS IS WHY. Yes, everyone is different. But through my eyes, everyone is different like Isabella is different from Luisa. They can do different but equally incredible things. Mirabel can’t do ANY incredible things; not in the ways her family can.

“I would move the mountains. Make new trees and flowers grow. Someone please just let me know, where do I go?” Mirabel being willing to have ANY gift, just wanting a place. Any place. I really could go on and on about this song.

Finally, Abuela straight up tells Mirabel “I don’t know why you weren’t given a gift!” and, of course, the internet debates that brought me to this conclusion. There is no answer as to what happened at that door. Anyone can make their best guess, can look for clues hidden somewhere in the story, but there may never be a definitive reason for Mirabel being the way she is. She not only has to live with not being able to have the chance to change it, but she can’t even explain it. It’s just something that happened. It wasn’t her fault, she knows that, but she is still the one who has to live with it. Her dad says at one point that he gets it, but he doesn’t, because he wasn’t supposed to have a gift. He knows that he is exactly who he was meant to be, but Mirabel doesn’t. Maybe she is, maybe this is who she was supposed to be. Or maybe something went wrong. Maybe she was supposed to be different. If she was supposed to be different, would she rather be that person? 

This post has gone on long enough, and really I could keep going, but I’ll sum it up with this. I’ve seen characters intentionally written with learning disabilities and never really connected with them, for a lot of reasons. But a big one is their disabilities have been confined to the classroom. The stories about struggling with reading, or counting, or taking a timed test. But when school ends learning disabilities don’t get left in the classroom to be picked up again on Monday. They come home with you, they follow you through everything you do, and if you ever want to know what that feels like; watch Encanto.

[meetmymouth]

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey​ and @burberryharold​ for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels! 

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer,  “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?”  He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

[mcmoth]

Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

[writertitan]

Grandfather Clock

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 4173

themes: adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

requested by anon

a/n: hi guys! i’ve never done a multi-part fic on Tumblr before, but this fic requested ended up being super long, and i figured it would be fun (and easier) to break into parts! here is part 1!

PART 1

With the parchment clutched in one hand, Levi had only one thought in mind. 

“This is ridiculous.” 

Erwin gazed at him calmly, but Levi knew him well enough to see the hint of sympathy behind those emotionless blue eyes. Sympathy that meant nothing to the shorter man. 

“I’m not doing it.” 

“You’re going to do it, because you must,” Erwin answered smoothly. “We need Lord Reader’s generous funding, and he evidently needs to marry off his daughter. Believe me, Levi, I tried to have it fall on me. The lord didn’t take too kindly to the idea.” 

Levi scoffed, a brow raised. “And he was happier about me?” 

“Humanity’s Strongest is less likely to make a widow out of her,” Erwin explained. 

He had an answer for everything. Levi could tell the commander had come well-prepared for what was sure to be a hard conversation. 

He glanced down at the papers again, detailing the terms for marriage, and he grimaced despite trying desperately to keep an aloof facade. They were practically buying this girl and it was all political. 

“She’s not too young, is she?” Levi asked, voice lower, quieter. 

“Wouldn’t have agreed to a child bride,” Erwin assured him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m not that much of a devil.” 

“Can I meet her first?” Levi sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tightness in his chest wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, and it irritated him to know that. 

“Will it make a difference? You’ve already agreed.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“I know you, Levi. You agreed the moment I asked. And I’m sorry.” 

-----

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror for a final time before straightening up and letting out the shaky breath you’d been holding in. 

Before last month, you’d never been mixed into your father’s business deals. If anything, you tried hard to stay out of his way. As if hiding would make him forget about you, forget that he could use you as a pawn. 

As his daughter, you were born to be married off, most likely to someone of equal status. To say that annoyed you and saddened you would be an understatement. There was no freedom of choice for you, ever. And now here you were, found by your father after a lifetime of hiding from him, to be used for political gain, the very thing you wanted to avoid. 

“Ready?” your mother asked from the doorway. She looked proper, clean, and poised as she stood at your bedroom door, hands neatly clasped in front of her. A very stark difference from how you felt and looked. 

“No,” you admitted. “What if he doesn’t like me?” 

“He probably won’t,” your mother answered, truthful as ever. “Your father and I didn’t like each other when we first met. It comes with time, my darling.”

That didn’t really make you feel better. Like is not the same as love. And, judging from what you’d witnessed over your life, your parents didn’t much love each other. They liked each other well enough, as your mother had said, but didn’t love each other. 

You hadn’t been fretting about if Captain Levi would like you. You’d been fretting that he’d never love you. 

Still, you steeled your nerves and followed your mother out of your room and towards the dining room, where you’d meet your fiance for the first time and get to know each other, and perhaps talk engagement plans throughout the evening. 

You’d heard plenty of rumours about Captain Levi, the overwhelming amount detailing him to be incredibly strong, incredibly small, and incredibly stoic. Now, you’d get to see for yourself. 

Two servant girls opened the double doors for you and your mother and you let her step in first, following behind her like a shy little child. Your heart hammered in your chest as you scanned the room, first spotting the familiar blue eyes that belonged to Commander Erwin, and then stopping when your eyes met a pair of grey ones that held no emotion. 

Captain Levi. 

You gulped. Stoic, check. 

Instantly, you noticed that even sitting down, Erwin looked much bigger than him. 

Small, check. 

Your face grew hot as Commander Erwin and Captain Levi both stood at your arrival, and your gaze turned to your feet when they both nodded their greetings to you. You gave a small curtsy and sat down across from Levi when ushered to your seat, and offered him a small smile. 

He was handsome. Very much so, in fact. His face was angular and quite masculine, and you found yourself taking in his thin brows and neatly combed hair. 

You gave him your name, shuffling nervously in your seat as you followed up with, “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Captain Levi.” 

For a moment, Levi said nothing. The room was quiet and the silence was suffocating. From the next room over, you could hear the grandfather clock ticking away. 

“Likewise,” he finally said, voice gruff, and he looked away from you quickly, as if you weren’t important. 

As if you were nothing. 

Your heart sunk. 

You hadn’t made a good first impression. 

Granted, neither did he, but your father had already pounded into your brain how important this dinner was. You would have to be on your best behavior. You’d have to make sure Levi liked what he saw. Judging by his reaction towards you, he most certainly did not like what he saw. 

Don’t cry, you scolded yourself in your mind when you felt tears threaten to prickle out. No time for crying now. Try again. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come out and spend the evening with us,” you said as you unfolded your napkin onto your lap. Levi wouldn’t meet your gaze. Your father and Erwin were already deep in a conversation together, with your mother politely nodding along, and Levi looked as though he would rather be involved in that conversation than the one you were trying to initiate. 

He hummed some response you couldn’t make out before turning his attention towards Erwin and your father, leaving you to your own devices. The tears threatened to prick your lash line again but you blinked them away and looked down to the plate of supper you were served moments later. 

The rest of dinner was spent with you silent at the end of the table and Levi eventually moving his chair to huddle closer to everyone else, with your father passionately talking about the scouting regiment and his views on the Military Police.

At one point, you had scooted closer as well, and tried to give one final shot at making a good first impression. 

“I really admire the Scouts. I think I got that from my father,” you said, leaning towards Levi. Your father was still babbling away, so you kept your voice at a whisper that only Levi would be able to hear. 

He spared you a glance but said nothing, immediately turning back to listen to whatever your father was saying. 

That was it. 

You felt fully discarded as Levi’s body turned from you, and though he was only across the table from you, the distance you felt mentally and emotionally made him appear worlds away. 

But you could take the hint. You shut up after that and kept to yourself, forcing down the resentment you were beginning to feel. 

Of course Captain Levi wouldn’t be happy about this arrangement. He probably had girls throwing themselves at him. He probably could have had his pick if he hadn’t been forced into this marriage with you. 

No, not marriage.

A deal. A business deal. 

No matter how much you wanted to, it would have been impolite to just walk back to your room. After all, the deed was done, and you just had to play nice to appease your parents and make sure all went smoothly. 

But how was this smooth? 

Nothing about this was going smoothly. 

Still, you stayed silent and stood up straight in your chair while brandy was poured and dessert was served. You picked at the food but downed the brandy in one swig when you felt nobody was watching. 

But when you met Levi’s empty gaze as you set your glass down, you froze in embarrassment, quickly looking away. After several failed attempts at starting a conversation with him, you decided to keep quiet. A girl could take a hint. Unladylike behavior wasn’t something you wanted to discuss, anyway. 

And when Commander Erwin finally stood with your father, Levi following suit a little too quickly, you also stood with relief and a twinge of sadness and said your goodbyes to the two men. 

“Lovely to meet you,” you said to Erwin and Levi; you found it much easier to address them both at the same time rather than embarrass yourself any more than you already had. 

Another curtsy, and then you were free to leave. You barely listened to Erwin’s polite goodbye, and you knew better than to hope for a word out of Levi. 

The tears came before you could even find solace in your bedroom. As you hurried up the stairs, they sprang to your eyes and blurred your vision as you fumbled with the doorknob, until at long last it gave way and you could let yourself inside. 

You closed the door quietly and then locked it, slumping against the solid wood as you sniffled and wiped at your face with the back of your hand. 

So this was what awaited you? A cold and distant husband. He’d take you away from the only home you’d ever known and marry you and resent you, even though you knew in your heart of hearts that you were the one entitled to the resentment. To be taken away from your family, to be taken away from your home, to be married off to some grumpy, little man who could barely put two words together...it was such a slap in the face. 

Truthfully, you’d been so hopeful today. Part of you had secretly hoped for a nice first meeting. Part of you had secretly hoped that you’d walk into the room and see Levi and instantly be infatuated, and that he’d look at you and be pleasantly surprised, maybe even a little awed (a girl could dream), and things would flow. You’d been hoping to hold onto the hope of love. You’d wanted to believe there was a chance that he could love you down the line. 

As you shrugged out of your dress to change into your nightgown, your naivety weighed heavily on you. 

You would never know of love like that. 

-----

Erwin’s disapproval buzzed around him like an aura on the ride home. 

The lord had sent out for a carriage to fetch them, and Levi decided that he wasn’t the biggest fan of carriage rides. Not when they forced him to be stuck inside a confined space with someone who was angry at him. 

“She’s innocent in this entire thing, Levi, like you are,” Erwin finally spoke up, after what Levi felt was ages of tense silence. “It was unfair of you to treat her that way. She was trying to get to know you, and you should have been trying to do the same. Remember that you were the one who pushed for this dinner.” 

Levi clicked his tongue in dismay, scoffing a bit before meeting Erwin’s eyes. 

“You asked me for one big fucking favor, Erwin, and I agreed to it. I’m doing this because I trust you. But don’t expect me to treat her as anything but a spoiled brat who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. That’s all she is to me,” he said with arms folded across his chest. He’d never felt so on guard before. 

“She’ll be your wife,” Erwin reminded him, and the reminder only served to start the beginning of a headache. 

Levi frowned, rubbing his head with one hand, before folding his arms again and looking out the small window of the carriage. Hardly anyone was out now, and he tried to get lost in his thoughts, anything that didn’t revolve around this ridiculous farce of a marriage. Was this really how nobles did things? Was this actually normal, to pawn off their children once it was convenient? 

It made him sick. 

“All I’m asking is that you show her some decency,” Erwin murmured. 

Levi remained quiet. But when he thought back to your hurt face after each blatant rejection he’d given you, he felt the small pang of guilt he’d wanted to keep at bay. 

You were just some spoiled little brat, he was sure of it. The fact that he was being given orders to be nice to you told him as much. 

But Erwin was, unfortunately, right about one thing. You were innocent in all this. Despite what Levi thought of you, he knew that if you were feeling even a fraction of the turmoil he was feeling now, it would be best to at least tolerate you. 

It would make things easier in an already quite uneasy situation. 

Erwin seemed to pick up on Levi’s silent decision to do better. After that, the silence was comfortable. 

-----

You would have thought the world would end before hearing from Captain Levi himself. The last thing you could have ever expected was now between your fingers, handed to you by a young apprentice boy.

“A letter? From Captain Levi?” you asked, still not quite comprehending. 

“Yes, m’lady,” the boy confirmed, bowing once before backing out of the parlor where you were situated. Then, he sprinted out, bag of correspondence flying behind him. It made you smile. 

When you looked back at the letter in your hands, with your name scrawled out in very neat handwriting, you felt your heart skip a beat in both fear and - unfortunately - hope. 

You reached for the letter opener and tore the envelope open carefully, plucking out the parchment that held a very curt and concise message to you. 

I’ll be visiting today for lunch. 

- Captain Levi 

A man of few words, as always. 

You folded the letter again and shoved it back into the envelope, heart racing as a million theories whirled through your mind. 

Why was he coming? Was he calling off the whole arrangement? Was he warming up to you? Did he need something? Did he feel bad about the other night? 

The nerves were too much. 

And then the reality set in. 

With a startled gasp, you looked up to the grandfather clock in the parlor to check the time. 

“Oh, hell,” you cursed, jumping up from your seat to hurry back to your room and freshen up. It was ten o’clock, and maybe Levi was the type to stop by exactly at noon, when lunch would be served. It left you with only a couple of hours to get your wits about you and make sure his visit went smoothly. 

You stopped one of the kitchen maids on your way to your room; she’d been clearing out the breakfast tray from your father’s room, and you couldn’t be bothered to care if she saw you frazzled like this. 

“Captain Levi will be stopping by for lunch today. Make sure that Chef Erlo knows that,” you said in passing, half your instructions called out from over your shoulder. You barely registered her nod as you barged into your room to change into a prettier dress and check your appearance in the mirror. 

Your eyes were wild, a little bright from adrenaline, but you looked fine otherwise. Hair still styled perfectly, jewelry in place. Nothing for him to complain about. You looked every bit the part of a lord’s daughter.

But the nerves had overtaken you. Only two hours. There was no time to waste. 

-----

When Levi arrived for your lunch date, if you could even call it that, it was barely a quarter past noon. Your mother and father had agreed to let you lunch alone without their company, but you knew they’d be somewhere closeby, nosy as ever. 

With the nice weather, you’d thought it would be a good idea to have lunch outside in the garden. The kitchen maids had already served out the lunch on the table outside, where you sat waiting for Captain Levi. 

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself from fidgeting around with all your nerves. The two-hour notice you’d been given apparently hadn’t been enough time to calm yourself down.

And your nerves only spiked when one of the maids stepped out and made way for Captain Levi.

He strode into the garden with a hard gaze, which landed on you immediately, and the maid scurried off as you practically jumped up from your seat to curtsy. 

“Captain Levi,” you greeted him, voice a little shaky, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

Damn. You’d forgotten how handsome he was. It made your nerves even worse. 

“Thank you for agreeing to see me today,” he said stiffly before sitting down. 

“I was...surprised,” you found yourself admitting, and then cleared your throat awkwardly when you realized what you’d said.

Levi sighed, eyes on the platters of food in front of him, and his already somber gaze seemed to grow even harder, more closed off. 

“Do you not like any of the lunch options?” you asked him, trying to read his expression. “It’s really no trouble to tell Chef Er-” 

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, eyes meeting yours. “Just seems excessive for two people.” 

Your face grew hot at that, and you nodded once in agreement. 

“Yes, I agree.” 

“Shame it’ll go to waste. I’m sure you’ll just be throwing it away?” 

The way he posed the question also made it seem like a statement. Like he was answering his own question. It made your brow twitch in annoyance. So, Captain Levi thought himself a know-it-all. 

Though, you couldn’t fault him for generalizing you with all the other noble families. 

You decided to ignore the question, a little annoyed now, and even more impatient. 

“Why are you here, Captain Levi?” 

He sighed then, leaning back in his chair while he stared pointedly at the sliced lamb in front of him. Then, in a flash, his eyes were back on you.

“If we’re going through with this, I want to set some ground rules,” he began. 

Again, your heart sank, just like it did when you’d first met him. 

More rules to adhere to. As if you didn’t have to follow enough of them already. 

“I’ll make more of an effort to...not be an asshole. But I also want you to understand that this isn’t ideal for me. I’m sure it’s not ideal for either of us.” 

“Right,” you whispered sullenly, no longer meeting his gaze. You looked at your lap instead. “Not ideal.”

You could still feel Levi’s eyes on you as he spoke. 

“I don’t want to rush the engagement. I think the more time we set aside, the better. It’ll help, having time to...get used to each other.” 

“Okay,” you agreed, lifting your gaze to meet his again. “Anything else?” 

Levi pausd for a moment, and then met your eyes directly. There was no wavering in his gaze. 

“And I don’t want a wedding. I don’t want this to be some sort of spectacle where you invite all of your bratty friends. Just the ceremony so we can get this over with. I’m not a fan of parties.”

Though you really hadn’t given much thought to your wedding day, this request hit you hard. 

He was asking you to give up your wedding day. When you were already giving up so much.

“Captain Levi…,” you started, but then trailed off, unable to find the words. 

“It’s not up for discussion,” he told you, eyes hard again. 

And what could you say? It wasn’t like you could refuse, and Levi knew that. 

You’d never know love. You’d never know true freedom to make your own choices. And now, you wouldn’t even have one day to celebrate a milestone in your life, a day that would have at least been fun and eased all the other pain you’d have to endure. 

You’d never have a real wedding day. 

“Fine,” you said, voice just barely loud enough for Levi to hear. “Anything else?” 

“No,” he said, and then filled his plate and began to eat. 

He eyed the brandy with a suspicious look in his eye, one that you could have found endearing if it had happened a few minutes ago, but not now. 

The lunch itself was mostly quiet. Levi even tried to start up some painful small talk, but you shut that down quickly with curt answers and no eye contact. It didn’t matter to you to act proper around him now. You’d agreed to his terms, it was settled. It was happening. And you were miserable. 

When you heard the grandfather clock sound at the top of the hour, you had to suppress your sigh of relief as Levi stood. 

“Thank you for lunch,” he said, and it sounded forced, even to you. 

“Would you like to take some back to headquarters?” you asked, mostly out of politeness, but you paused when you saw Levi sincerely consider it, eyes conflicted.

But as suddenly as the emotion appeared on his face, it left, and he shook his head. 

“No, but thank you.” 

You nodded, silent, and turned when the same maid that had led Levi outside appeared, likely to lead him out. Her timing was impeccable. No doubt the work of your parents, watching from somewhere. 

“Miss, I’ll send someone to clear away the trays,” she told you, and you shook your head quickly as you began to do the work yourself. 

“Don’t be silly, I’ll do it myself,” you assured her, balancing a few trays on your arms. 

You nodded once to Captain Levi, then gestured to the maid. 

“Greta will see you out. Thank you for your company.” 

With that, you wandered back inside, heading straight for the servants’ quarters. There was still quite a bit of food left, like Levi had predicted, but he’d been incorrect about it going to waste. 

You knew that the sliced lamb was Greta’s favorite dish at the moment, and you knew that Chef Erlo could never turn down lemon pie, especially when he’d worked so hard to bake it himself. The new apprentice boy, Charlie, loved wild rice, which you still had plenty of. It would be enough for the entire staff to snack on. 

Nothing would ever go to waste, and you’d be damned if you’d ever resort to not caring about your staff. 

-----

As Levi approached the front door, his horse waiting for him outside, he turned to nod at the maid in gratitude. He couldn’t remember her name for the life of him, but that didn’t quite matter. He was just saying goodbye. 

“Greta! Greta! Come quick before the lamb is gone!” 

A boy, no older than ten, came bounding up to the maid, Greta, before Levi could get out the door. 

Under any other circumstance, Levi would have just ignored the boy and left. But what he’d said made him pause.

Lamb? 

The maid, Greta, shushed the boy while her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, knowing Levi was still there and witnessing such uncouth behavior. 

“Lamb? The servants eat pretty well here, then, I take it,” Levi observed. “Unless you’re stealing.”

The boy’s ears turned pink at the accusation, and he shook his head quickly to deny it. 

“No, sir! The lord’s daughter always brings us whatever’s leftover from the family’s meals, and helps us with chores sometimes. Greta says she thinks the miss leaves a lot of trays untouched on purpose for us!” 

“Charlie!” Greta scolded, absolutely miffed, but if anything, it spurred the boy on.

“I’ll be sad when she leaves, but Greta says she’s getting married. Greta, let’s go before it’s all gone!” 

Levi nodded his goodbye to the two of them and shuffled out the door before the poor girl could get any more embarrassed. 

As he mounted his horse, his mind actually drifted back to you. This new information conflicted with his opinion of you, and it startled him. 

Levi tugged on the reins of his horse to head back to base, but he caught one last glimpse of you in the window that peered into your dining room, sitting with what he assumed to be a cook on your staff judging by the outfit, the two of you laughing with plates of lemon pie in your hands. 

He furrowed his brows, and let his gaze linger a little on your smile. He hadn’t seen you smile like that before. 

Then, he nudged his horse and began trudging back to base. All he wanted to do was get back to work and erase the smiling image of you from his mind. 

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[ddarker-dreams]

anon asked: OMG pls pls pls could you write a possessive yandere Diluc??? I'm sorry if this is generic...

[repost because someone mentioned this post wasn’t showing up in tags... tumblr i s2g...]

Diluc:

Diluc has seen the worst and best that humanity has to offer. Regrettably, the worst is what has made a lasting impression, darkness waiting to strike in every crevice. He’s always done his best to protect everyone. This is amplified to a new, unprecedented level when his obsession for you takes root.

There are plenty of threats to be wary of -- Diluc will reason -- but he starts actively looking for them in the wrong places. No longer is he concerned with just making sure you get home safe, unbothered by monsters. Now it starts to seep into your relationships. Innocent gestures are mistaken as malevolent, Diluc stepping in where it’s wholly unnecessary.

Compared to most yanderes, Diluc has commendable self-control. He won’t openly lash out to anyone that speaks to you in a friendly manner. That doesn’t mean he’s not upset about it, he’s just used to hiding his emotions, and has had lots of practice suppressing everything. So while others chat you up, romantic intentions or not, he’ll slink off to sulk.

Surprise surprise, it’s Kaeya who catches onto this hidden behavior before anyone else can. Kaeya actively exacerbates the situation, quite literally adding fuel to the fire, unaware of the monster he’s awakening in the process. To his credit, Kaeye’s intentions would be in good fun. Maybe for some lighthearted teasing to laugh about later over drinks with you and your friends. Instead, he released a burden onto your life.

Kaeya might let a friend or two into Diluc’s “crush” on you, planning to see how far they can push it. He’ll throw an arm around your shoulder, whisper inside jokes into your ear to make you giggle, offer to walk you home, etc. Diluc begins to excuse himself from the room when this happens to get a hold of his kindling fury. Diluc knows Kaeya is just trying to get a rise from him, that he’s giving him what he wants. But god, that twisting sensation in his stomach when Kaeya is the one touching you, getting that melodic laugh, and being the center of your attention... it’s unbearable.

Diluc feels like it’s such a shame. He’s a busy man, so being around the same areas as you is a rare treat, that’s now being tainted. Can he not have this single enjoyment in life? To make matters worse, he’s now hyper-aware of anyone possibly flirting with you. Diluc is growing paranoid that while he’s unsure of how to pursue you, someone else might come along and take you away.

While trying to provoke Diluc, Kaeya tends to be on the receiving end of some biting language. With an unimpressed expression and even tone, Diluc will tear into him for his obnoxious behavior, even if you express that you don’t mind. It’s remarkable he’s managed to control his darker urges for this long. Should Kaeya -- or anyone else for that matter -- not get the hint, Diluc lists some concealed threats.

He’ll start physically blocking anyone’s path to you, looming over almost like a bodyguard. Diluc’s presence is intimidating and effective in warding off people he finds irritating. He’ll act like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about if you mention how close he is, but there’s an almost indiscernible blush on his cheeks.

While you’re not paying attention, Diluc will motion to his weapon, scaring off anyone brave enough to come speak to you. When you turn around he’s back to wiping down glasses. If he needs to distract you, he’ll offer free drinks, not that he ever makes you pay anyway. The few times you do manage to convince him to let you pay for your own tab, the money is “mysteriously” sent back to your residence by mail.

Bonus Childe:

Childe is not held back by the same moral qualms that Diluc is. This, mixed with the extensive network of Fatui agents at his fingertips, makes for a horrific combination. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Whether you’re aware of it or not, he’s already having people keep tabs on you. This includes people that you speak to as well. While the Fatui don’t entirely understand why they’re being asked to watch you, like hell they’re going to question a Harbinger on the bizarre orders.

You’ll be having a pleasant conversation with someone, only to feel a shadow looming over you. Then there’ll be an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulder. Childe would act dismissive of whoever you were speaking to, making up some excuse about why he needs your attention more and whisking you away. All the while looking back and giving the unfortunate individual a soul-shaking look.

He projects a lot into your conversations. Childe asks with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes if you’re trying to make him jealous. “As much as I like you -- and trust me when I say I do -- you should be careful with that.”

Anyone who makes the mistake of flirting with you gets it far worse. Childe will judge them accordingly later when being filled in on your movements for the day, sitting and listening with an eerie calm as his agents detail the person’s description. There’s a myriad of ways the Fatui could make this person’s life a living hell. From the shackles of debt tightening, harassment, to even making them disappear entirely. It all depends on Childe’s mood that day.

Childe would actually find it interesting if the person has a Vision themselves. He views it as a challenge of sorts. Malice would be oozing out of him at the thought of proving his strength to you, that no one else could come close to the claim he has. To avoid any unwanted attention, Childe would wait to strike until the person is traveling alone, channeling his Delusion alongside his Vision. It’d be an awful sight.

When he talks to you next, you’ll notice he looks oddly content. If you’re brave enough to ask why this is, he’ll give some ominous answer, that leaves your body going cold. “Hm, I really need to know. Did you think that they were any match for me? That by batting your eyelashes all prettily, you’d convince them to get rid of me? Well, whatever the case, this should be proof I’m not going anywhere.”

Childe will mention that he even was kind enough to get you a gift. A Fatui agent will reach into their bag, giving him a piece of cloth, which he then pretends to you. You’ll likely be rendered sick by the sight. It’s a torn piece of their outfit, a testimony to Childe’s victory. He’ll tilt his head and playfully ask if you don’t like it, before taking his leave for the night.

If you ever plead with him to leave the people you interact with alone, he might look like he’s giving it some thought. Childe’s suggestion of how you could convince him to do this is equally unpleasant.

“You could always spend your time with me, that way this wouldn’t be an issue. Give it some real thought. I’m looking forward to hearing your answer.”

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 6

A/N: seeing y'all freak out over the last chapter when i have the outline and i know that things get worse... it feels me with evil glee. also vyeoh drew some amazing art of the last chapter, show them some love!! <3

Warnings: crying, hugging, arguing, threats of violence, heartbreak

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Jimmy still felt like he was in a daze when they made it back to his empire. Lizzie hadn’t let go of his hand once, and he was grateful for the grounding touch. She was still murmuring words of comfort and asking what happened, but Jimmy could only nod numbly. Every single thought and feeling he had of Scott felt tainted now. Was anything he had felt even real? Or did Jimmy just fall right for Scott’s plan (whatever it was) hook, line, and sinker. Just thinking about it made Jimmy feel nauseous.

Katherine and Joel landed beside Jimmy and Lizzie, and Katherine looking equally as distraught as Jimmy felt shook him out of his stupor slightly. Wordlessly he let go of Lizzie’s hand to pull Katherine into a hug. He held her tight as she hugged him back, crying into his shoulder.

“It’s gone. It’s all gone. There’s barely anything left of my castle,” she hiccuped. Jimmy didn’t know what to say as he held her, but gently rubbing her back seemed to help.

“Fwhip was plotting against the House Blossom Alliance the whole time, Sausage too. I think Gem, Pearl, and Scott were involved as well,” Joel explained. Jimmy just about shuddered at the mention of Scott, trying not to cry.

“Why would they do that?!” Lizzie gasped.

“Fwhip said something about how the alliance was too argumentative, and should be destroyed before anything worse could happen and bring down our empires,” Joel explained. Katherine let out another hiccupping sob at Joel’s words, and Jimmy murmured words of comfort to her. Then he looked up to the skies, and his heart froze. Three figures were flying towards them- one with elytra, one with bright yellow feathered wings, and one with white feathered wings tipped in gold. Joel noticed Gem, Pearl, and Scott in the air as well, and grit his teeth as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Lizzie rushed over and put a hand over Joel’s, shaking her head.

“Stay on guard, but let’s hear them out. We only know that Fwhip and Sausage were the masterminds behind this. But if they are here for trouble, we’ll make sure they regret it,” Lizzie said, tone going dark at the end of her statement. Joel hesitated for a moment or two, but dropped his hand from his sword with a frustrated sigh. He and Lizzie did, however, stand protectively in front of Jimmy and Katherine as Gem, Pearl, and Scott came to a landing in front of them. Jimmy let go of Katherine, but she didn’t go far, taking his hand and gripping it tightly.

“I know we’re not high on your list of people to see, but hear us out. We didn’t know that Fwhip was going to take such… drastic measures,” Pearl explained, hands up placatingly as her wings fluttered anxiously.

“But you did know Fwhip was up to something,” Joel countered.

“We knew he wasn’t super happy about the House Blossom Alliance, but we thought that he would just pull a harmless prank or pick a fight with Jimmy or something. Not destroy Katherine’s castle,” Gem continued, Pearl nodding along with her. Scott stayed suspiciously quiet, and Jimmy’s mouth settled into a firm line as he let go of Katherine’s hand.

“But Scott knew. Didn’t you,” he accused, glaring at Scott. His expression immediately turned guilty, and that was all the confirmation Jimmy needed.

“I wanted to tell you, really! But-”

“But you kissed me instead of telling me or ANYONE about Fwhip’s plan!” Jimmy shouted, stepping forward and gesturing angrily, that cold numb feeling from before now replaced with molten fury. Lizzie gasped, drawing her sword and fully intending to lunge at Scott, but Joel quickly scrambled over to hold her back.

“Joel, let go of me, I need to give Scott a piece of my mind for taking advantage of our sweet swamp boy’s heart!” Lizzie fumed, straining against Joel’s hold. Joel glared at Scott, but his grip on Lizzie didn’t let up.

“Scott, you better have an explanation for this, or I will let my wife loose on you,” Joel warned. Scott actually looked a little terrified, and part of Jimmy hated the fact that he was relieved at that.

“I should have warned people about the TNT, I know. I just- it was stupid of me to hope that Fwhip was going to change his mind. And I was going to tell Jimmy, but then I saw Fwhip in the distance, and he had his crossbow aimed at him. I- I figured that Fwhip wouldn’t take the shot if it meant hitting me too. So that’s why I kissed Jimmy, and by that point it was too late to warn anyone,” Scott explained, his expression pleading and apologetic. Joel and Lizzie seemed to accept his explanation, as Joel let go of Lizzie and she sheathed her sword- but they both still glared at him. And Jimmy wanted to believe him, wanted to say he forgave Scott and rush back into his arms again- but there was something else that bothered him.

“What did Fwhip mean, when he said something about ‘playing the part?’” Jimmy asked, absolutely terrified of the answer but needing to know the truth anyway. Scott swallowed nervously, expression overcome with guilt once more.

“Fwhip told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t just Katherine goading me into being nice that kept me coming to your empire, at first. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t-”

“Leave,” Jimmy growled, having enough of Scott’s excuses. Scott flinched at Jimmy’s tone. Good, it was about time people stopped seeing him as the sweet swamp boy or the friendly Codfather. He was done being pushed around, done being used and tossed aside.

“Jimmy, please- believe me, I really do care-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! I’m sick of your lies and manipulation! I never want you to set foot in the Cod Empire again, if I ever even SEE you again I will make sure you regret it,” Jimmy shouted, the words fracturing his heart into a million pieces. But he couldn’t afford to trust Scott ever again.

“Jimmy…” Scott trailed off, any fight finally leaving him as his wings drooped. His gaze shifted between Jimmy’s angry glare, the tears on Katherine’s face, the glares from Lizzie and Joel, and the sympathetic and apologetic expressions on Gem and Pearl’s faces. He looked back at Jimmy one last time, eyes glassy- before taking off into the night sky. Jimmy couldn’t even watch him leave.

“We truly are sorry for everything that happened. We know it doesn’t make up for it… but we wish you the best, Codfather and allies,” Gem said softly, before taking off into the sky as well. Pearl gave them a weak smile before following Gem. Jimmy waited until he could no longer see either of them in the sky, and finally let himself cry, falling to his knees as ugly sobs wrenched their way out of his throat. Lizzie scrambled to his side, pulling him into a hug and letting Jimmy cry into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, let it out. I’ve got you,” she soothed.

“He tricked me. And like a fool I fell for it, I fell for him,” Jimmy said between sobs, desperately clutching at Lizzie. Joel came over to kneel at their side, pulling both of them into his arms and rubbing Jimmy’s back. Katherine joined the hug pile too, on the opposite side of Joel. Jimmy wasn’t sure how long the three of them all stayed there with him, but they all held him until he finally had no tears left to cry.

-

After Jimmy had finished crying, Lizzie gently prodded him into changing, insisting that he would feel better in his normal clothes. She was right, and a lot of the tension drained from his shoulders once his trusty cod head was back on his head. From there, Lizzie and Joel brought him and Katherine to Lizzie’s empire, saying that Katherine could stay in the embassy she built, and that neither of them wanted either one to be alone at the moment. Katherine and Jimmy didn’t argue, neither of them wanted to be alone either. So they ended up huddled together in Katherine’s embassy, a borrowed blanket from Lizzie over both of their shoulders. Lizzie stayed with them and made sure they were comfortable, while Joel flew to Pixandria to update Pixl on everything that had happened.

“This is all my fault,” Katherine said numbly, after a long silence. Jimmy and Lizzie looked at her in confusion.

“It’s really not, you didn’t blow up your own castle, after all,” Lizzie pointed out. Katherine smiled weakly, shaking her head.

“But none of this would have happened if I didn’t insist on making friends with everyone. Everyone would have been fine if I just stayed out of it and stopped trying to bring people together,” Katherine said, voice watery.

“Katherine, if you hadn’t tried to bring us all together, I’m sure much worse would have happened. Who knows how many empires would have been destroyed if it wasn’t for you,” Jimmy countered softly. Katherine let out a small sob, hand clasping over her mouth as she tried to collect herself.

“But if I hadn’t started those meetings, pushed you and Scott to be nice to each other- then you wouldn’t have to be feeling this way,” Katherine said, voice as fragile as glass when she dropped her hand from her mouth. Jimmy shifted to face her, gently gripping her shoulders and looking Katherine in the eyes.

“Katherine, listen to me. My- my heartbreak is not your fault. None of what is happening is your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Fwhip. You hear me?” Jimmy asked, voice gentle but no less serious. Katherine’s eyes went wide.

“You’re heartbroken?” she asked in a shallow gasp. Jimmy gave her a sad smile, throat growing tight as he felt his eyes watering again- funny, he thought he had run out of tears.

“I learned what love was, only for it to get crushed barely a day or two after. So… yeah. I think I am. But that still doesn’t make it your fault,” Jimmy said, tone forlorn before it turned gentle and serious once more. Katherine let out a shaky sigh, nodding her head.

“Okay. Okay. I’m still sorry you’re feeling this way, though,” Katherine said softly. Jimmy just smiled, pulling Katherine into a hug.

“So what’s our next step? Plotting our revenge on Fwhip?” Lizzie asked, and Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle at her casual ruthlessness.

“I think before we do anything revenge-related, we should help Katherine rebuild her castle,” Jimmy replied, frankly not wanting to think about getting revenge on Fwhip, because that would likely lead to getting revenge on Scott as well. And Jimmy definitely didn’t want to think about Scott at the moment.

“I don’t know if you’re the best person to help me build,” Katherine teased lightly. Jimmy gave her a weak smile in response.

“I think I’ll be able to manage if you’re guiding me,” he replied softly.

“I would definitely appreciate the help,” she said with a smile, and it was the first time Jimmy had seen her smile, truly smile since the ball.

“Then I’ll help, mediocre building skills or not,” Jimmy insisted, glad to have something to look forward to so he could think about anything other than Scott. He was done with him, no matter what his traitorous heart thought about his sunshine smile, his laugh of gold, or those icy blue eyes that contradicted them both. So much about Scott felt like a contradiction, now. He snarled and teased and jabbed, but there was a hidden fondness too, or at least it seemed like there was. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was ever real to begin with. Then there was how he sided with Fwhip, even though Katherine was his true ally, a business partner too. Nothing made sense, and Jimmy wondered if he should have let Scott explain- no. Jimmy was never going to give Scott a chance to use that silver tongue on him again, paired with a smile that was only gold-plated. He wouldn’t be hurt again.

-

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