#what i actually really want is to be driven places. and not actually drive myself

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Oh good the Lorch is sending herself asks about me again.

[Lily's Post]

Oh yeah Lily calling marginalized people a "pick me" for not having the same exact opinions as you doesn't make you look bigoted at all.

Unlike you I don't think children's cartoons are activism. And my pointing at that some people like to try to downplay the lesbian themes in Steven Universe, or at least the way lesbians interact with the themes of the show, actually has nothing to do with the show itself.

Hey Lily did you know I also really don't like the word queer being thrown around, refuse to call myself that because it means strange and also dislike "anti-assimilationist" types?

Speaking of which:

[Lily's Post]

Yeah I say that about the kids telling me queer has been "reclaimed" for me. I would think you'd agree, Lily.

Those are two completely different concepts you dumbass. We can have gay content in mainstream media without it being insulting dreck driven by rainbow capitalism.

Lily is the one who basically wants the Hayes Code back. She wants every show and movie to tell her who is good, who is bad, what to think and for the bad guy to get thrown off a cliff at the end.

Lily just because those are the only two pieces of media YOU know I like doesn't mean that's all I like or have ever seen. Have you seen But I'm a Cheerleader? How about Saving Face?

Hey Lily if you'd actually watch my responses to you:

No I sneer at shows with bad depictions of gay characters when they have bad depictions of gay characters. Especially when they break their own spines patting themselves on the back for it.

Are you trying to get ahead of my VOD you falsely struck going back up on Thursday? You know the one where you said an early 2000's flaming queen stereotype in some shitty Alicia Silverstone vehicle was super good "gay rep" because you had some retarded need to paint a narrative that Canadian cartoons "did it first"?

The whole "she's just mad other shows are outpacing things she likes" lol it isn't a competition, dawg. That's you, Lily. That's how you think.

This is how I know its a self ask.

Yeah that's why in my reaction to James Somerton's somehow EVEN WORSE takes on Utena than yours I kept saying things like "Utena isn't really that hard to understand it just tells it's story in a very abstract way".

Also if you think the Sword of Dios is "the sword of patriarchy" you really didn't get it but much like James here I doubt you ever even watched it, Lily. I look forward to your "In a Nutshell" video where you will read out TVTropes with zero context and get everything wrong.

Lily I hadn't watched the show fully in over 15 years when I made my very first video on you. I wasn't even expecting to talk about Utena you just went on a tirade about it in the middle of your 2023 Steven Universe video.

In fact, the reason I even cut that video in the first place is I was so impressed with my own recall of the show. And then it got 5k hits out of nowhere on my then completely unestablished channel because people just hate your takes that much.

And now making fun of you has paid for my new GPU and CPU. No Man's Sky is running great and I'm ready for Dragon Age Veilguard so cheers!

[carcarrot]

nj to nyc commutes will get you so fucked up you even contemplate learning how to drive

[strniohoeee]

I have a question for a Matt fic if you can’t do it that’s fine, Could you possibly do a matt version of vie (I think that’s it idk) if you want to and can 😁🫶🏻

-anonymous out for now

Foe

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N absolutely hates Matt with a burning passion. Nick and Chris get fed up with them after hearing them argue on their road trip. What happens when he locks them in a hotel room together??🗣️

Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTTT. Nothing too crazy though. This is also for another request I got for enemies to lovers with Matt where they travel far and stop in different hotels and have to stay together LOL. Also I was half asleep writing this, so I hope yall enjoy🤭

Song for the imagine: Back to the Old House-The Smiths

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

And you never knew

How much I really liked you

Cause I never even told you

Oh, but I meant to

Are you still there?

I felt my eye twitching, my head spinning and my jaw hurting from the fake smile I had plastered on my face.

“A road trip…how fun” I said through my teeth looking at Nick

“I figured since we have this whole month why not just drive through a couple of states you know” he said

“And you want me to come?” I asked furrowing my brows

“Yes we do” Chris said

“Not me” Matt shot out

I looked over at Matt giving him a death stare and rolling my eyes.

“I mean I’m happy staying here you know. Why don’t you guys go as brothers and enjoy this time for yourselves” I said looking back at Nick

“We really want you to come though like badly, and you can split the driving with Matt since we can’t drive for shit” he said pointing between him and Chris

“Ughhh fine I’ll go” I said throwing myself back on the bed

“Trust me we’d be fine without you” Matt said smacking my head

“Fuck off” I said slapping his hand away

“Matt literally shut the fuck up” Nick said

A few days had passed and it was now time to venture out to some random states. I wasn’t even sure what to pack, but all I know is I had a huge suitcase and a duffel bag. I mean you can’t be too sure right?

I had driven to the triplets house since we were taking their bigger car. When I pulled up Matt was packing some stuff into the trunk while Chris and Nick walked back into the house

I parked my car and got out grabbing my suitcase and my duffel bag

“The fuck did you pack for?” Matt said looking over his shoulder

“A fucking road trip are you an idiot?” I said placing my duffel bag on my suitcase

“You’re acting like you’re moving or some shit” he said laughing

“I like to have options since I actually have a sense of style unlike you, so buzz off” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Packed for a fucking runway show or some shit” he said

I pushed him out the way to look at the trunk

“Matt what the fuck is this?” I said looking at him

“Uhh looks like suitcases and bags to me” he said shrugging his shoulder

“No shit smart ass. You packed this car horribly. Let me fix it” I said

“Knock yourself out” he said

I had removed some suitcases and bags, and I got to a larger bag in the back of the trunk. Sliding it forward

“Okay princess hold this” I said looking over at Matt

“Fuck you….calling me princess” he said rolling his eyes

“Well you watched me undo all this without offering a hand, so yes you are a princess, now hold this please” I said trying to give him the heavy duffel bag

“No im good” he said smiling at me and crossing his arms over his chest

I looked at him blinking, and I lifted the bag up, throwing it over my shoulders, and letting it crash to the concrete pavement.

“Suit yourself then” I said shrugging my shoulders

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY” Matt yelled leaning off of the car and walking over to the bag

“Aww it must’ve slipped” I said grabbing my duffel bag off of my suitcase, and rolling my suitcase

“You’re a bitch” he said opening the bag that I’m assuming was his and looking inside of it

I rolled my suitcase past him and lifted my duffel bag up to put it over my shoulder letting it hit Matt in the head.

“So I’ve been told” I said laughing at him

“This has filming equipment in it, my equipment to be exact. You’re lucky it didn’t break” he said standing up

“I’m actually pretty sad it didn’t break” I said frowning

Matt scoffed at me and walked into the house. Leaving me alone to finish packing the trunk up correctly. Soon they all came back out, and got ready to get in the car

Matt shoved past me to get in on the drivers side. I lost my footing and gave him a dirty look

“I hate you” I said to him

“Feelings mutual don’t worry” he said smiling at me

“Can you guys just not fight for once. I have not spent a single day with you guys in two years where there was no fighting going on” Nick said

“I try my best, but he really knows how to get under my skin” I said

“Tell me about it, but please I can’t handle a road trip with Matt in a pissg mood” Chris said

“Okay okay I’ll be nice” I said throwing my hands up in defense

Chris sat in the passenger seat, I sat behind Matt and Nick sat behind Chris. It was a pretty decent car ride for the most part. We were driving north at first.

Occasionally I’d look into the rear view mirror sometimes catching Matt’s eyes. But always looking away. But we kept locking eyes accidentally

“Stop looking at me like a creep” Matt said

“I’m not trying to look at you. Everytime I look up you happen to also be looking” I said getting annoyed

“Uhh yeah it’s the rear view mirror, I have to see what’s happening behind me on the road” he said shaking his head

“Literally shut up before I lose it” I said sighing

“Whatever..” he said rolling his eyes at me

We had been through three states already. We fought the whole time driving, we fought at every stop, we fought for every meal. Chris and Nick were growing frustrated. I think Matt and I didn’t even enjoy our stay in these states because we spent the whole time arguing.

In these three states Chris and Nick forced us to stay in a hotel room together. This was the worst idea in the world because this made us fight more.

The first hotel we stood in, Matt kept turning the light on every five minutes to piss me off, and then he talked the whole night. The second hotel we stayed at, Matt threw ice cold water on me the morning we were heading out while I was showering. The third state we got to there was only one sink, and Matt and I woke up late, so we were rushing. First he took an extra long shower using the hot water, so my shower was cold. Then we had to brush our teeth at the same time.

I leaned over to spit into the sink when suddenly I felt Matt hovering over me. He spat his toothpaste in my hair. My jaw dropped and I let a gasp out

“You did not” I said looking up at him

“Whoops must’ve slipped” he said shrugging his shoulders

I had no time to wash my hair so I had to wipe my hair with a wet towel, and hope for the best. I shoved past Matt packing my stuff up, and ignoring him as I made my way down to the lobby.

This incident was the icing on the cake. I was so angry. I wasn’t the nicest to Matt, but spitting toothpaste in my hair was a low fucking blow.

As we got in the car and headed to get breakfast Chris opened his mouth

“It smells like toothpaste” he said laughing

“Yeah thank your idiot brother” I said with a straight face

“What’d he do?” Chris asked turning back to look at me

“He fucking spat toothpaste in my hair, and I had no time to shampoo it out” I said rolling my neck

“Matt what the fuck” Nick said getting annoyed

“It was an accident” he said pouting

“To hell with you you fucking asshole” I said loudly

“You can throw my bag and hit me in the head, but this was too much?” He said laughing

“Toothpaste from your mouth? Yeah you crossed a line you stupid fuck” I said putting my hand in between the space of the head rest and the chair, and pulled his little neck hairs

“OUCH WHAT THE FUCK” he screamed grabbing the back of his neck

“Awww it was an accident” I said pouting at him

“Bringing you with us was the biggest mistake” he said

“Yeah I think so too” I said crossing my arms over my shoulders

The whole ride went like that. Every restaurant we stopped at and every gas station. Chris and Nick even snapped at us a few times because we were stressing them out.

We stayed at a hotel in the fourth state, and I was hoping us arguing all day would make Nick split us up, but I thought wrong.

“You and Matt are staying together, and Chris and I are keeping your room keys, so if you leave…you’re shit out of luck we’re not helping you” Nick said shrugging his shoulders

“WHAT” we both screeched out

“This arguing is so fucking annoying. We are supposed to be having a good time, and instead we’re miserable. Yall need to talk out your issues because I can’t do this anymore” Nick said to us

“Yeah like I’m exhausted and annoyed with you both bickering like children. I wanted this month break to be nice and fun, but it’s not…please figure this shit out” Chris said rubbing his eyes

We both nodded our heads in defeat, and Nick unlocked our door letting us in, and watching as the door shut in his face.

We locked the door and turned the lights on. Our jaws dropped at the site. One fucking bed….

“They’re fucking with us, they have to be” Matt said scoffing

“Yeah no shit dumbass…they want us to be as uncomfortable as possible, and talk about our issues” I said placing my duffel bag down

“Okay fucking mystery P.I” Matt said laughing

“I’m going to shower and get this toothpaste out of my hair, so behave for like 30 minutes” I said to him

I got in the shower and enjoyed my alone time. It was so peaceful to be alone with your thoughts. I mean I hated fighting with Matt all the time. I wasn’t even sure why I fought with him all the time. It’s just everytime I would see his face it made me so angry. If it wasn’t for his shitty attitude Matt was actually an attractive guy. Beautiful on the outside and ugly on the inside. At least from what I saw….

I ignored Matt as I finished my routine and he went to shower. I laid in the bed after drying my hair and just stared at the ceiling. All that I could see was flashes of Matt’s face. It made me angry. The one person I hate the most and that’s all my brain is clouded with.

Matt got out of the shower and sat on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. I was staring into the back of his head just thinking. Mainly mean things, but one other thing….his hair looked so good right now. WHAT THE FUCK NO!

It was 2AM at this point, and Matt shut the main light off keeping the lamp on. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket it laid on the floor

“What are you doing” he said looking at me

“Throwing a party…Matt I’m going to sleep” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Yeah, but why on the floor” he said laughing

“Because I’m not sleeping next to you” I said scoffing

“You act like I bite” he said giving me a dirty look

“You might as well with those teeth of yours, so damn big” I said laughing

Matt let out a giggle and looked away. Did I just make him laugh? My eyebrow raised as I looked at him

“Just get in the bed” he said looking at me

“I’m good” I said laying down and turning away from him

Matt scoffed and shut the light off. My mind started racing. His little laugh was so cute, and the way he looked down at me to lay in the bed with him….idk why I started to smile this was weird.

“This feels wrong” Matt saddened blurted out making my heart jump from being scared

“What” I said confused

“You sleeping on the floor like just get up, and sleep next to me” he said

“No” I said

“Stop being so stubborn already” he said smacking his hands down on the bed sheets

“Fine okay” I said getting up

I made my way over to the bed and laid down. Matt was facing me as I looked up at the ceiling. My breathing became shallow as I felt his eyes on me.

“Please stop looking at me” I said in a whisper

“Sorry” he said back

I let a slight smile fall on my face, and I guess he saw it with the little bit of moonlight coming in through the window

“You look very pretty when you smile, you should do it more often” he said

“Well stop pissing me off everyday and I’d have more to smile about” I said

“Are you flirting with me?” He asked laughing

“In your dreams Matthew” I said laughing lightly

“Oh in my dreams indeed” he said

“You’re such a strange person” I said rubbing my eyes

“Is that why you hate me?” He asked

“I don’t hate you. I hate the way you act. You know how to make me angry” I replied

“I mean I don’t mean to be that way, but to see how easily you get upset it makes me smile” he said laughing a bit

“I’m glad my anger brings you joy” I said shaking my head

“It’s cute” he responded

“I must be mistaken…is Matt flirting with me?” I asked

“Oh no I would never” he said laying on his back now

“Right right” I said shrugging my shoulders

The room got silent…painfully silent. I’m sure you could hear my heart beating out of my chest. My breathing became heavier. Why was there such weird tension now?

I mindlessly started to lightly hum a song trying to coo myself to sleep?? I don’t know..

“What’s that? I’ve heard you hum that song before” Matt said

“Oh it’s Back to the Old House by The Smiths” I said

“I’ve been trying to figure out that song for the longest every time you hum it” he said in a whisper

“Oh yeah” I said also in a whisper

Matt’s hand came down near mine, and I felt his pinky graze against my skin. My breathing hitched in my throat as I glanced down at his movement.

“I love The Smiths” I said in a low whisper

“What was that?” He asked his pinky now completely rubbing up and down my hand

“I said… I love The Smiths” I responded looking over at him. To see him already looking back.

Suddenly Matt’s lips crashed into mine. Throwing me for a fucking loop because what the fuck was this?

But my lips moved with his as he leaned up and over. Slowly making his way to hover above me. My hands immediately rubbing through his hair

Our lips locked in such a heated and passionate kiss. Who would’ve thought I needed a kiss from Matt so badly. My body ached for him, and I slowly hated that. I was supposed to hate him what's going on…

“Wait wait wait” I said pushing Matt back

“What’s wrong?” He asked looking at me

“I mean nothings wrong. It’s just….we’re supposed to hate each other” I said

“Who says enemies can’t kiss?” He asked

“Fuck it” I said pulling him back down for another heated make out session.

Matt’s dick slowly pressed against my cunt as my legs stayed spread for him. My heart fluttered at the feeling as I pulled Matt down more to allow our chests to touch.

Matt began to kiss down my neck as my nails scratched his scalp. This was so wrong yet felt so right. I had complete control in my hands. And I wanted this to go further than some kissing. I so desperately wanted Matt right now.

“I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything” Matt said looking at me as he kissed up my neck

“Trust me if I felt forced I would’ve kneed you in the balls” I said, and he laughed against my skin causing me to get goosebumps

Matt and I continued to kiss until his hands ran up my shirt and slowly began to take it off. Lifting off the bed for him to get it off my head

He pulled away and removed his shirt as well. Leaning back down as our bare chests touched causing me to let out a whimper

He kissed down my neck and down my chest as he left open mouth kisses on my breasts. He kissed down my stomach and to where my pajama bottoms sat

He came back up running his right hand over my breasts as he kissed my neck.

“I need more” I moaned out

“Okay” he said in a whisper

Matt pulled away and helped me slide out of my pajama bottoms. He slowly slid his pants off.

He ran his hands over my cloth pussy as I shuddered. He removed his boxers and slid my underwear to the side. Slowly he slid into me allowing myself to adjust to the burn from the stretch.

God Matt felt so good. I was already in heaven and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

“Are you ready?” He asked me as he bottomed out

“Yes” I panted out as my back arched

“I’m going to go slow okay” he said

“Okay Matt” I said licking my dry lips

Matt began to thrust in and out of me at a slow pace. Truly allowing me to feel all of him. My hands gripped the sheets beneath me as my toes curled.

Matt was filling me up so well. I swore my eyes were in the back of my head. His thrusts slow but deep and harder really stretching me out

“You can go faster” I moaned out

Matt leaned forward and brought my left leg to wrap around his torso as he began to pound into me.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel amazing” he panted out into my ear

His necklace tapping against my collar bone with every thrust. As my hands began to rake up and down his back

“Shit Matt….holy fuck just like that” I moaned out

His hips snapping into me at a faster pace. The bed creaked and lightly tapped against the wall. We really hoped Nick and Chris were asleep because this would make for a awkward experience tomorrow

“You’re taking me so well. I thought you hated me” he moaned out

Pounding into me deeper causing a loud whine to escape my lips

“I might’ve hated you before, but you’re fucking me so good I might fall in love” I moaned out throwing my head back

“Love so soon?” He moaned out as he hit my g spot

“Eventually” I panted out

“Yeah I want to fuck you a few more times before you decide on that” he said as his thrusts became sloppy

“I’d like that very much” I moaned out

“I know you would, fuck” he moaned out

My mouth hung open as his lips ghosted against them. My brows furrowed as I began my orgasm slowly approaching.

My heel of my foot for a fact digging into his back as my body quivered and shook for him

“Matt I’m so close” I moaned out as my hips lifted off the bed

“Hold on baby hold on” he said

Snaking his hand in between us he began to rub my clit causing me to let out a high pitch whine.

He began to run faster as my breathing got heavier. My mouth fell slack as his hips smacked into me.

My stomach coiling and my thighs shaking

“Fuckkkk I’m cumming” I moaned out as my legs began to shake and my back lifted off of the mattress. Clenching around Matt as his name fell from my lips in a loud moan.

He helped me ride out my high and slowly pulled out of me as I laid there. He began to stroke his dick chasing his own high

His breathing became heavy as his lower stomach contracted and he painted my thighs with his cum. His mouth slack and eyes staring down at me as he moaned out my name.

Once he came down from his high he helped clean us up. And he got back in bed. It got quiet again and my thoughts started racing

“I don’t hate you. I never did” Matt suddenly blurted out

“Oh” was all I could say

“Watching you get mad over small things made me laugh, and I felt like it was our own little way of flirting” he said

“I mean at times it was” I said looking at him

“And other times I went over the line” he said shaking his head

“Yeah you did, but that’s okay. Look where it landed us fucking in a hotel room” I said laughing

“I suppose that’s true” he said laughing

“It’s just easier to dislike someone than to actually like them, and I’m so mad I can’t hate you” I replied

“Oh the feelings mutual babe” he said licking his bottom lip

I laughed and shoved his shoulder

Matt pulled me in, and we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms after having much needed conversations.

The next morning when we woke up. We showered and packed up. It wasn’t even awkward and we actually enjoyed our morning together. We even walked down to the lobby together which never happened.

“You guys seem happy” Chris said

“Did you hash things out?” Nick asked

“We did, and it was all one big misunderstanding” Matt said looking at them

“Yeah it was. However the one bed was a dick move” I said looking at Nick

“Oh one bed? That’s so weird I didn’t even know that” he said

“You didn’t?” We both said

“No, it must’ve been an accident” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Well I’m glad it worked out that way anyways” I said shrugging my shoulders

“Yeah! Plus it seemed to work you guys are getting along great” Nick said

“Oh yeah you know. Just a good ol conversation to make it all better” Matt said

“I’m so glad you guys are okay now” Chris said getting excited

“We are too! So now let’s actually go have some fun like we’ve been planning to!” I said loudly

We finished our road trip, and I was so thankful for Nick and Chris putting us together. Who would’ve known how badly I needed Matt, and I finally got him. It only took two years…

The End

Mannnn idk how I feel about this, but also I was like half awake writing this it’s bad LMAOOO. I hope you guys enjoyed and I love yall dearly🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[necrotic-nephilim]

jealousy really is the driving force of DamiTim as a ship. love that for them. love how Tim has the Robin mantle ripped away from him and he has to suffer the jealousy of watching Dick and Damian bond. how possessive over Dick Tim can be, to have him stolen by Dick.

even more so though, is the jealousy from Damian. how on earth do you cope when you finally get to be Robin, a role you've convinced is your birthright, and no one really likes you? every prefers the Robin who came before you? Dick regularly reminds you that he can always go and call Tim back when you act out? like the complex Damian has over Tim is unreal. Tim, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had everything handed to him his whole life. he never had to struggle or fight for his place like Damian did. Damian has spent his whole life fighting and proving himself, and yet he can't ever seem to truly claw the mantle of Robin away from Tim. even when Tim lets it go, becomes Red Robin, they seem to share it. Tim can slip back into the role of Robin whenever someone like Dick or Bruce need him to, because *he's* the Robin who they need. he's the Robin who was able to find Bruce. he's the Robin that Ra's wants an heir out of. he's the Robin who even Jason respects. in Damian's eyes, everything Damian has fought tooth and nail for, was handed to Tim.

so of course he's going to react to Tim with violence and aggression, especially after finding out Tim has contingency plans for him. no matter how much Damian proves himself, he's never going to be enough, especially not to Tim. and so his deep refusal to see Tim as family, to acknowledge Tim's legacy is all driven by such an angry jealousy. Tim understands aspects of Bruce's legacy that Damian doesn't, like the need to sweet talk and play nice with the elites of Gotham, even if they're corrupt. they exemplify different aspects of Robin, and the aspects that Tim exemplifies are the aspects that Damian knows he'll never fully understand and therefore holds such a deep contempt for. he wants to fight criminals, not play nice with politicians. Tim understands the side of Gotham that's utterly foreign to Damian. if anything, he represents that side of Gotham, to Damian. a pretty little rich boy who's nothing but a know-it-all and not a real son of Bruce. he can't be a Wayne. he can't be Damian's family.

and all of that angry jealousy leading to unhealthy obsession turned a weird, angry crush from Damian is just my bread and butter. that is how DamiTim should be. to me. Damian obsessed over hating Tim Drake so much he accidentally ends up sort of in love with him and that only makes Damian angrier. because he can't prove everyone right by *also* liking Tim. he can't let Ra's win like that, because frankly why wouldn't Ra's be delighted by Damian and Tim getting together. and it builds and builds with angry passive aggression towards Tim that culminates in angry hate-fucking-that's-not-just-driven-by-hate. love and hate are always viewed as opposites in shipping and i think they're the same intense passion just in different directions. and for the best ships, they're very intertwined. what is DamiTim is not the peak of that. "i put so much of myself into hating you i had no choice but to fall in love with you somewhere along the way" core. love that bleeds into hate and hate that bleeds into love. "you make me so angry i regularly passively try to kill you but not with any real effort because who would i obsess over if you were actually gone" core. murder attempts as a form of courting. contingency plans to take each other out as a love language. they're unwell.

[moviestarmartini]

Since you are open to writing about Brahim 🤭imagine Jude being a third wheel and always hanging out with you and Brahim, like the guy is never at his house 😭😭

three, that's the magic number! - brahim diaz x reader x platonic!jude bellingham

warnings: none, pure fluff. headcanon/bulleted format.

OKAY HE WOULD LOWKEY BE LIKE “i want what these bitches have” BUT LET ME NOT GET AHEAD OF MYSELF HERE 

now playing... the magic number by de la soul

you’d heard of Jude but came to meet him in a dinner Brahim had organized with him and Arda. 

you’d noticed the way Jude stared in awe at the two of you whenever you interacted, even if it was just Brahim taking short glances, his face softer than ever. 

it started off with Brahim asking if you could pick up Jude on the way to training, not wanting the younger man to take a taxi there again 

the way the three of you could start a conversation and flow felt nice, singing along to some songs that Brahim had queued.

Jude often asked what the songs said, or what a word either of you said meant. you found endearing how he was really trying with spanish

Jude then started getting dropped off at your shared place to be driven to training by you two— getting all pouty when Brahim was the one driving, not you.  

“Is this what abandonment feels like?” He would joke, but still wished you the best on your way out to work. 

then it was the fact Brahim took it upon himself to teach the englishman the do’s-and-don’ts of Madrid. 

you took Jude everywhere, all your favorite spots, doing your best to avoid large crowds to not draw attention to yourselves. 

“You’re in luck, she’s the best tour guide ever.” Brahim bragged about you to Jude, as he did to anyone who would listen.  

he was just so so proud of every you know and done, he can’t help himself. 

you knew a lot about the historic places you saw even when just passing by car, telling Jude every detail and fun fact you had in store in that brain of yours.

he listened attentively, also noticing the way Brahim would look at you with the tiniest smile behind his lips.  

“See? I’ve got myself the smartest cookie. Eres la más inteligente de todo España, mi habibati.” Brahim would coo after you were done explaining, reaching to cup your face and stroke your cheekbone with his thumb as you nodded slowly, cheeks flushed. 

soon, however, candid pictures of you hanging out were released to the public. 

the reactions varied from people adoring the pair you and Brahim made and how tall Jude was compared to the two of you but always followed behind as if he was your child. 

by that point he’d already taken your flat as his favorite hang out spot, more often than not you found Jude playing FIFA or board games with Brahim after coming home from work.

“Get a room.” Jude would complain at your cuddling and kissing, Brahim brushing the spiky facial hair against the length of your neck only to hear the giggles that made his chest swell 

“Jude, you’re the one who’s in our room.” you deadpanned with a yawn, the two men bursting down in laughter. 

but at the end of the day, he felt like another member of your family— just like abi Arda did, but that’s a story for another day. 

and you were so glad Brahim could reintegrate back into the team flawlessly. 

at one of the games you sat in the VIP balcony at the bernabeú with a good chunk of the players— all out on injuries, including Jude, who went straight to you as he noticed you walk in. 

you two commented on the game as if that was your actual job, feeling every second and emotion. 

you also noticed how Jude looked at you every time you celebrated Brahim doing things right— it could only be described as admiration.

 Jude had to leave when the game was itching its end, having to stand with the other injured players, leaving you with Denise.  

you introduced yourself quickly, and you noticed how she perked up. 

“Lovely to meet you, but can you give me my son back? Or do I need to pull out some adoption papers for you two?” she laughed, soon telling you how much he talked about both you and Brahim, and the relationship you shared. 

you couldn't help but laugh, "Really? I think I have a pen in my purse, hold on–" you joked, but feeling proud... why? because everyone could clearly see how much you loved Brahim.

and they could also see, clear as day, how much he loved you too.

[raapija]

Käärijä's Veikkaus interview, 5.5.2023

Ten Questions For Käärijä

In this interview Vantaa's most famous bowl-cut Jere Pöyhönen tells, how he thinks about his Käärijä-named alter ego and why he would sometime want to "whack" Käärijä. Furthermore, he reveals his embarrassing vice - and reminds you that in every one of us there lives a tiny Jesus.

Q1: Why do you have such a funny haircut?

"When I was in junior high, I got a bowl-cut during a break. It was on a whim. There were us two boys, who did it, and we rocked with the bowl-cuts. I've always been whimsical, a guy, who is easy to provoke. I like to try things, and I've never really been embarrassed by anything. We had a few friend groups in Vantaa, with who I hung out with, and I was always the clown in the group. I like to make others laugh and I also like to laugh at myself. The others laughed with me, not at me - or that's atleast what I like to believe!"

Q2: So, Vantaa - you're a born and bred Vantaa-citizen. What does Vantaa mean to you?

"Quite a lot actually. I think that Vantaa is an under-dog kinda place. It reflected, for example, in hockey, which I used to play a lot. When we played against Espoo, it had emotion! The deal is, in fact, that Vantaa-people hate people from Espoo! [laughter] People from Vantaa are somehow more real than Espoo-citizens or people from Helsinki, more honest. If a Vantaa-person doesn't have money, then for fuck's sake they don't have money, they won't try to hide it, like Espoo-people do. Indeed, Vantaa is the place to be. Or at least the Tikkurila hoods, Myyrmäki on the other hand... We totally aren't any kind of a big and happy family in Vantaa. [laughter] East- and West-Vantaa are completely different things, kinda like the Bronx and Brooklyn. Actually I'm from Ruskeasanta, and for example Ruskeasanta's or 'Rusa' 's Shell (a gas station) has been a significant place in my life. We used to go there with friends on our mopeds and drink coffee and tea, fool around, bully vocational school students."

Q3: Wait a minute, you've gone to vocational school, too, but you aren't a student who drives around Tikkurila, around the local blocks?

"I haven't really driven there, maybe a couple times. But I haven't been serious about it in that way. I've never been a car-person, more of a moped-person, and that moped I liked more to tune and decorate, than to drive. I painted, tuned and tinkered with it. I, for example, melted Legos on the covering so I could get more plastic on them - no-one could ever guess, what color moped I'd come to school with."

"In my opinion, vocational school was more of a lifestyle than one going to vocational school. Students drove from gas station to gas station and went to Jumbo (a mall) with driving gloves on. I would rather stay at home to sleep and play Habbo Hotel. Sometimes I'd go to meets (meeting organized by youth to come show off their mopeds), and those were fun, but to those, too, we went with a few friends to laugh at the other dudes. [laughter] If I would now go to Rusa's Shell, I hope people would react to me positively. I'm still nevertheless on their side.

Q4: What kind of memories do you have from Vantaa's Tulisuudelma (a pub, restaurant and music venue)?

"There I didn't go a lot. I was more often at Porkku (Pormestari, a nightclub that has since closed). The few times I was at Tulisuudelma, I sang karaoke. Vesku's 'Hyvää Puuta', that was my favorite. But Porkku was, at least in my mind, Tikkurila's most popular bar. It was a bit like Pinkku (a restaurant called Pingviini), but the cooler guys went to Porkku. [laughter] Yeah, vocational school students went to Pinkku. It might be, that 'Cha Cha Cha' is about a night in Porkku. There I have my first bar-memories. It became my own little home, where all the friends in town came to."

"'Cha Cha Cha' represents dancing, and dancing represents freedom for me. That, that you have to be able to not be afraid to dance without thinking what the others think, even without drugs. You can see it as a drinking song also, I don't care about interpretations, but to me, it represents a lot more also. I want to encourage people to break free, because it's not about how well you can dance, it's about how you carry yourself. I'm not the most skilled singer, rapper or artist. But I believe in this thing, this madness, and I put 150 points on it. It creates the aesthetic, that he is just crazy and a star, even though really I'm just a regular dude from Vantaa."

Q5: The song lasts 2 minutes and 55 seconds. Because of those shy of a three minutes you'll soon go on a long trip abroad to perform. What does that feel like?

"As a thought it's damn crazy. How much work - hours, days, weeks, months - and then it's over. Those are probably my life's most important 2 minutes and 55 seconds. I think, that Käärijä is going on a little trip, does what he does best and it goes just the way it is meant to go. Everything doesn't even need to be so fucking thought out and perfect. It needs a bit of improv, my own style. Because I don't like to be bound."

Q6: You're a pop-star and many people have put a lot of money into your career. Isn't it inevitable, that in some way, you are bound?

"Yeah, that's exactly true. I've had had to work on that. I avoid it, when people tell me things and try to get me to do stuff, that I don't stand behind. It's been hard learning to say no, but it has been a necessary skill. Those people do see Käärijä as a product. It feels like a crazy thought - I'm like a walking billboard. But I'm a human and I have to do my own stuff, my own values, and not be with a note on my forehead saying 'buy this' or 'I'm selling this'."

"I've gone along with a couple things, but those have been the kind that benefit me. I want to rip out everything from those guys - the record label, ad-collabs and everything, and secure it that I'm not being fucked over. This is a rough business. People want a piece of Käärijä, which they can benefit from, so I have to be really alert. And not everything can be measured in wealth. For example, I've done stuff for charity."

Q7: Many of the stories about you are headlined "Jere from Vantaa", and that's the way you seem like: a nice basic dude. How does that nice basic dude handle all that hassle?

"At the beginning, not so well. I'm humble, and I still have a lot to learn about a certain type of roughness. You have to know your value and value yourself. Who am I, where do I belong, what do I want from life - I think about these and develop all the time. But it's not easy when the big bosses come to say how things are. Then you just have to stay tough and argue against them."

"The piss hasn't got up to my head, because I'm not 20 anymore. If all this had happened at that age, I would most definitely be an asshole. I can differentiate Jere from Käärijä. If on the streets someone films me, or someone sends me suggestive messages on instagram, I know that those are meant for Käärijä, not Jere. They don't really even know Jere, in a way."

"Jere sometimes wonders on red carpets abroad 'why am I here?'. It sometimes feels like a ridiculous circus show - even though I obviously enjoy it and value it. Byt my morals lie elsewhere. I don't appreciate people if they have some great job and money, that doesn't interest me at all. People shouldn't be seen as products, but people should be seen as people and appreciated the way they are. That's why it feels so weird when people go nuts sometimes about this Käärijä-thing, start to cry when they see me. In Madrid one guy fainted because they saw me! It was at the same time like wow, we had created something that had caused this kind of a reaction. But at the same time I think 'what the fuck just happened to you?'."

Q8: What sort of a relationship does Jere have with Käärijä?

"A really good one, mainly. We have a lot in common. In a way I'm a Käärijä-fan because I have to like the thing I'm doing, and in my mind we're making the best shit in Finland ever. But sometimes, when there's so much of this Käärijä-stuff, I'd like to whack that Käärijä: every time I come home and look in the mirror, there that bowl-cut is. Then I miss it, when I could go as Jere to the shop and be Jere to the people and not everyone would circle around Käärijä: how are you, how are you managing, how's the gigs, how's the music - fuck it. Let's talk about the weather!"

"Käärijä is also an armor. If someone asks to put on the bolero and go lay around for those photos, Käärijä will do it. Jere might not. With Käärijä I'm able and not afraid to do things. But the way that everyone right now wants to benefit from Käärijä, is of course sometimes heavy - and that's Käärijä's fault! He fucking did it! [laughter]"

Q9: If you could choose anyone to go in a sauna with, living or dead, who would you choose?

"That's a tough one. I'm a fan of Rammstein like crazy and I can relate to (the singer) Till Lindeman. But they say he's a really stiff guy. We probably wouldn't have a lot of conversation in the sauna..."

"If Jesus is really a real person in history, I'd maybe choose Jesus. I'd like to discuss with him: what all did he do, what kind of a guy he was. I'm really interested in that. Was he a regular fellow like all the rest of us?"

"I believe, that in all of us, there lives a tiny Jesus. I mean that I don't believe we're just a brain and a lump of meat. We're so much more. I don't necessarily mean supernatural things, but that there's something else, something that we can't reach with our level of consciousness. I don't believe in coincidences. There's always a reason why things go this or that way."

Q10: Do you have some secret or habit that you're embarrassed about so much that you wouldn't want to tell of it to anyone?

"I don't really have skeletons in my closet like that... Well, this is a bit dumb, but the thing that I'm sometimes afraid to do, is: I like to put ketchup on everything. I put ketchup in meat soup, too. Once I was in a fancy steak restaurant, a great steak in front of me, and I thought, damn I'd kill for some ketchup now. But there were people around, certain type of steak enthusiasts, that I couldn't do it, because people would've judged it really hard. Yeah, maybe it's about being from Vantaa! [laughter]"

Käärijä's make-up and hair: Tiia Loikkanen

Photography digitech: Pauli Boström

Photography: Ville Malja

Original writer: Jose Riikonen

[nobigsecrets]

(I Don't Believe) It's That Simple

Fandom: 9-1-1 Relationship: Eddie Diaz & Tommy Kinard Rating: T Words: 2,478

But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Or: Eddie and Tommy are having a conversation.

Read on AO3

"So, how did you know?" Eddie asks, apropos of nothing.

Tommy's brow furrows as he's trying to make sense of the question. They're sitting in Eddie's living room, after they'd first played basketball and then watched basketball on TV while eating takeout and having a couple of beers. The game has long since ended though and they've been silently nursing their latest round of beers for the past few minutes. He tries to recall what they were talking about last. A call the 118 had taken a few days ago, he remembers, Evan had had to rappel down a bridge and it had been stupidly risky. But apparently Eddie's thoughts had taken some turns Tommy can't quite follow—

"How did I know what?"

"Buck told me—" Eddie starts, then has to put his words into the right order before he continues. "He said he knew he was bi the moment you kissed him. Like you handed him a puzzle piece and he immediately knew where it was supposed to go." Eddie takes a swig of his beer and turns around so he can better look at Tommy, who's sitting at the other end of the couch. "So I wondered, how did you know?"

"Mmh," Tommy says and then asks back, "how did I know Evan is bi? Or how did I know I'm gay?" It's been too many beers over the course of the evening and he can't quite read if Eddie's sudden interest is sparked out of random curiosity—or something else.

"Oh, uhm," Eddie says, somewhat unintelligible and clearly the beers have left an impact on him, too. "Well, both. I think. What I meant is how did you know you're not straight?"

"I always knew," Tommy readily admits, marveling at how easy it sounds when in reality it had been anything but. So for accuracy he adds, "but for the longest time I pretended that I didn't."

Eddie makes a confused face for a moment. "So you, uh, dated women? Like, before—?”

"Yes, I did hook up with women," Tommy admits and sighs, he's not exactly proud of his past. "It was before I came out to myself. I lied to them and I lied to myself, pretended it was what I wanted even though it never felt right."

Tommy knows it was a shitty thing to do. He now also knows it was driven by self-preservation for the most part and therefore explainable. Not excusable, his mind adds automatically. But his therapist had been adamant about driving that point home, that there were reasons for why he did what he did, that he shouldn't blindly take all the blame for it on himself.

Eddie nods like he understands. It takes a moment before he comes out with the next question. "And did you ever have a girlfriend? Like, something long-term?"

"No, not really," Tommy says, "only ever a few months before I broke it off." And that's one thing the Army offered that he's actually still grateful for. Being on duty, getting deployed, it was an easy excuse to get out of anything that came close to being called a relationship. "The longest I've been with a girl was through basic training and a few months after that. Maybe half a year? I couldn't do it, it was—“

Tommy breaks off, looking for a way to explain how stifling it had felt but he doesn't need to bother because Eddie offers, "It was like performing a role and you played it because it was expected of you."

"Yeah!" Tommy agrees, surprised by how precisely Eddie's words hit the mark.

Eddie murmurs something that Tommy doesn't quite catch but that sounds a lot like "go figure" and now Tommy takes a closer look. Eddie looks tired, but he's looked like that ever since Chris left. It's the actual reason why Tommy is sitting on Eddie's couch this late at night. But Eddie also looks anxious. He's worrying at the label on his empty beer bottle with his thumbnail, peeling off the paper in tiny pieces.

Tommy knows Eddie has started therapy. He knows—via Evan—that Eddie thinks it might be helping. But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. He puts the empty bottle on the side table. "I don't know, man," he says, looking over at Tommy before running both hands over his face. When he looks back up, he seems more determined.

"I did a full Buck the other day," he says and a small, affectionate grin briefly flashes over his face. "I overheard something Hen said to Buck and I didn't want to butt into their conversation, so I went and looked it up on Wikipedia. And then I read the whole article on bisexuality. And then I found out about all the other sexual identities I didn't even know existed."

Eddie shoots a quick look at Tommy, hesitant and vulnerable. Tommy can clearly see he's heading somewhere, that there's something that’s s been stewing in him, something he needs to get out and Tommy waits him out patiently.

"I read all kinds of stuff, you know, and I read about—" Eddie continues and now he's taking a deep breath, bracing himself for the part that he actually wants to share. "Did you know you can be sexually attracted to someone but not romantically? Or the other way around or not at all?"

"That's—“ Tommy says and wrecks his brain. He can vaguely remember someone explaining this at a meetup of the queer LAFD group he sometimes joins. Split-attraction... something, he thinks. It's not what he'd expected Eddie to say if he's being honest.

"It's got something to do with asexuality, right?" Tommy shifts his position from where he's lounging in the corner of the couch, turning more towards Eddie and scooting a little closer.

Eddie looks relieved that Tommy apparently knows what he's talking about. "Yeah, that," he confirms. "It said on the web that you can be asexual or aromantic or a mix of both—it's a spectrum, evidently."

"And you think you're somewhere on that spectrum?" Tommy asks in a way he hopes is reassuring as much as encouraging.

"Yes. No. I don't know. But man, it kinda makes sense to me." Eddie says and the way he's torn up about this, the doubt Tommy can hear in his voice, it sounds painfully familiar.

"I mean, I do like having sex. Seeing a beautiful woman, it works for me, you know. But I suck at relationships, it's like... like I said, a performance. Always has, even with—" Eddie stops abruptly, biting his lip. He looks away for a second before he catches himself.

"I once had an actual panic attack over being stuck in a relationship, did Buck ever tell you that?"

"He did not," Tommy says with a small shake of his head. He's got to fight back his curiosity because it sounds like that's a story he'd like to hear about someday. But he sure as hell won't ask for more than what Eddie is willing to share right now.

When he'd picked up things with Evan again after their first failed date, Tommy had promised himself to go slow, to do right by Evan in a way no one had ever done right by him. But then it turned out Evan neither needed to go slow nor to be handled with care and they'd been able to set their pace together. It had been a pleasant surprise after their initial bumpy start.

With Eddie though, Tommy recognizes the same hesitation, the same kind of uncertainty, the same fear of failing to meet other people's expectations—or his own expectations for that matter—that had plagued himself for so many years. He's glad, and honored, that Eddie asked him about it. Tommy thinks that if he'd had someone back then, someone he could've trusted, he might have come to terms with being gay so much earlier. But the first openly queer person he'd ever met, or at least had come into closer contact with had been Hen—and by that point he'd dug himself so deep into the closet that he barely remembered there was a way out. He doesn't want anyone to go through the same pain, not if he can help it—

"How can I be sure that I'm not just confused?" Eddie asks now, taking Tommy's momentary silence as encouragement to go on. "Like, how do I know it’s because I’m... aromantic and not just because I’m crap at relationships? I mean, maybe I'm just a shitty partner.” Eddie stumbles a bit over the word; like it's a pair of pants that's one size too big and doesn't fit quite yet.

"Well first of all, I don't think you'd be a shitty partner because I know for a fact that you're a great and loyal friend," Tommy says and he's glad to get a small—if pretty self-conscious—smile in response. "But to answer your question about how you know—you basically just said it yourself: it makes sense to you. That's all that matters."

"That's all that matters?" Eddie repeats, eyebrows raised and oozing skepticism. "I don't believe it's that simple."

"It really is that simple." It's a fact Tommy's had to learn the hard way but it's something he now believes in one hundred percent. "You are the only who knows how you feel. What works for you, as you put it. No one else can tell you that. So no one else gets to decide. If there's a label that makes sense to you, if you feel comfortable with it, claim it."

Tommy can almost see the gears turning inside Eddie's head as he's thinking things over. He waits him out patiently and reaches for the beer bottle he deposited on the coffee table earlier. Coffee would probably be a better fitted drink for this conversation, he thinks as he takes a drink of the lukewarm beer.

"The idea— well, the possibility of just not wanting a romantic relationship with someone, it... it felt like a relief," Eddie admits. "I don't like going on dates. It feels all staged and, I don't know, fake. Most of the time. I'd rather be hanging as friends, you know. Like with Buck, with you guys." Eddie gestures towards Tommy, apparently wanting him to know he's included. It's sweet.

"But then I think a family is everything I ever wanted. Being married, having kids, the way it's supposed to be. I never pictured my life any other way. And I think of Chris—and it all feels incredibly selfish."

"And did you ever give yourself the time and space to picture your life any other way?" Tommy asks and carefully places his still half-full beer bottle back onto the coffee table, very much aware that his next question is a delicate one. "Chris' mom, she was your high school sweetheart, right?"

Eddie looks up sharply and Tommy is ready to apologize and take a step back, he knows the woman has left a sore mark behind, but then Eddie's face softens and he nods in agreement.

"Shannon," Eddie says. "Yes, she was. And we had Chris when we were 19. We didn't have much of a choice back then. At least it didn't feel like we did."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Tommy says and he means it. He remembers being that age, being pressured into making decisions that will affect your whole life—while being offered no real prospects of a future. "That's why sometimes we adopt what people expect us to do as our own expectations.

"Look, when I was growing up and through my time in the Army, I told myself I couldn't be gay—because I'm not interested in... I don't know, arts or fashion or fancy shit like that. I like typical guy stuff, always have. Engines and sports and fighting. I didn't fit any of the clichés about gay men. So I fell between places. I wasn't straight in the way people expected me to be and I wasn't gay in the way people expected gay men to be. It took me years to figure that one out. It takes time, Eddie."

"Yes, I guess that's something I need to untangle," Eddie says. "Shannon and I, we fucked up. And then I tried to do right by her by marrying her. Plus it was the only way I knew how to appease to my parents. And I... I always tried to tell myself it was what we would've done anyway. But now I don't think it was what either of us really wanted at the time." He sighs and rubs a hand over his face and hair, but now the gesture is more thoughtful than anxious. Eventually, a small grin steals itself on Eddie's face, "See? It's not that simple after all."

"Alright, I relent. It can be messy until you get there," Tommy says, glad to see a tiny challenging glint back in Eddie's eyes. "But once you stop lying to yourself, once you stop trying to be who other people want you to be, it really is that simple."

"I'll take your word for it!" Eddie scoots forward on the couch and reaches for his beer bottle, pulling a face at finding it empty. It's a clear signal that he's done talking for now.

"Let me know how it goes," Tommy says and then finishes his own beer in a few gulps.

"You want another one?" Eddie gets up from couch and starts to collect the empty bottles.

"No, I'm good," Tommy says, getting up from the couch, too. "I should get going anyway. It's late." He takes half of the bottles and helps Eddie carry them into the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." Eddie puts the empty bottles on the counter and motions for Tommy to do the same.

"Tell Buck I said hi. And that I'm sorry for keeping you this long," he says as they're walking back into the living room and towards the front door.

"I'm sure he won't mind." Tommy stops with his hand on the door handle, "but just so you know: I won't tell him what we were talking about. That's your job. If and when you're ready."

"Understood," Eddie agrees and then pulls Tommy into a quick hug, patting his shoulder twice for good measure. "Thanks for listening, man."

"Sure," Tommy says with a smile. "Thanks for trusting me with this."

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Dont’s Epilogue

Part 1 / 2/3/4

A/N: for those of you still needing more closure with this story this is for you

——————————————

6 months later:

My apartment was small but it was mine and I got to share it with one of my childhood best friends I’d reconnected with after moving back to the states last year.

Today the sun was setting on the beautiful November day. I had ordered in sushi and was enjoying a glass of wine, waiting for Deanna to get back home and tell me about her date.

These quiet evenings to myself always got me contemplative. Tonight was no different—I get to thinking about my day on set and how tomorrow was going to look.

After coming back from London and submitting my video proposal last spring, I had been rejected to nobody’s surprise. But that hadn’t stopped Harry from intervening and getting me a spot on set. It became a joke that I was a ghost intern there because really all I got to do was shadow people on set and help out where I could. And it had left me hungry for more.

I started building a portfolio and networking like crazy to get on more sets. So far I’d worked on three, once as a general assistant and twice as an arts assistant. I felt myself moving in the right direction I wanted to and it was thrilling.

I had Harry to thank for that really. And just like always, thinking about him sent a pang of achey regret through me.

I’m not sure what happened between us; we kept in touch loosely after I got back to the States. Mostly we talked about my future work and getting on set but after he actually got me on set and I got busy, our conversations fizzled out.

When I landed my second gig and had to maneuver my old job with Oretta she had ultimately let me go. I’d been bitter about failing something then but now I saw it as the kindness that it was—she had let me go and I had the room to pursue this new career.

It wasn’t easy though. The feeling of failure had driven me into the arms of a depressive episode that had taken me back home to Burbank. And when headlines were made of Harry’s new dates and women of the week, I’d taken it as a sign. We shouldn’t be in each other’s lives.

But I missed him every time I thought about him. And I always hated myself a little for not being brave enough to do anything about it, for pushing him away, and for liking him in the first place.

Clearly I was a very health person.

There was a knock on the door and I knew it had to be Deanna.

She distracts me with stories about her date and how well they hit it off. Apparently he kissed her goodnight right downstairs while I’d been drowning in misery on our living room couch.

The next morning, my phone rings at the ass crack of dawn. I expect it’s someone on set and end up being right. So with a few hours of sleep and a slight hangover from last night’s wine, I pick up a large coffee and get to work.

Last night’s thoughts bleed into my drive to work. It was when I was on set especially that I wanted to message Harry. I wanted to update him about all the cool things I was working on and hear what he thought. It was stupid but I wanted him to be proud of me too.

I wonder sometimes if I should have said something in London, been the bold one and taken a leap.

But I couldn’t have.

Harry was a damn rockstar and I was still figuring out my life. I can’t imagine it could have worked. So was it just the maybe, the what-if of us that kept looping in my mind? Or did what I feel for him mean something real, real enough not to shake so quickly.

A knock on my window scares me. It’s another one of the set assistants—Damien, waving at me. I guess I’ve just been parked staring into space. Oops.

“You need a coffee,” he tells me when I join him.

“Can you believe I’ve already had one?”

“I can probably find you a line of coke somewhere on set if you need something stronger?”

“Damien,” I pretend to be scandalized. But after working with these people over the last few years it was a pretty normal sight to see. “Ease into it first.”

He laughs, “I’m joking. I know you’re not…”

“I know,” it gets a bit awkward as it usually did with Damien and I when we started joking. “I’m joking too.”

His face flushes and I welcome someone calling me over to leave the awkward.

The day passes in a blur, the art director had a last minute change sending me to a local antique store trying to source props which was part of the job I enjoyed. With my headphones in I was in a world of structured creativity.

While I look through gold frames one of Harry’s songs comes on and I skip it automatically. I wasn’t quite ready to listen to his addictive voice croon about lovers of his past.

Not that I hadn’t tried going on dates of my own. But the thought of what-if kept me committing to anyone. If I thought about it for long enough it was actually annoying—how he somehow managed to still block my romantic life.

I’m invited for drinks after we’re done shooting for the day. Even though it’s pretty late I decide to say yes. Lately I’d spent my evenings when Deanna’s out just drinking by myself and being miserable. May as well drink with coworkers.

And I actually missed having regular coworkers, like I used to have Winnie. Shit talking about work to destress and drink was one of the highlights of making friends at work.

I have more to drink than I intended, and a small voice in my brain tells me that the amount of alcohol I’d been having recently might be a sign I’m losing it a little. But I order one last drink to shut it up.

At one point I start talking about horoscopes with someone in the bathroom and she ends up showing me how to use the lipstick I complimented them on to overline my lips, and I somewhat remember signing someone’s napkin and telling them to keep it for a few years and what it would be worth.

I also text Deanna an assortment of things and try to call my sister for a pressing matter that I can’t remember when it goes to voicemail. I end up babbling about drinking too much and needing to cut back.

I don’t know what time it is by the time I’ve ridden my high but I want to go home. I huddle by the entrance trying to remember if I came with a jacket tonight or not.

“You’re not driving home tonight are you?” Damien pops up beside me. We’d chatted throughout the night but I’d avoided any awkwardness by constantly inviting other people into the conversation. But right now he has me cornered.

“I’m a very responsible adult Damien,” I slur. “I am getting a taxi.”

“I can drive you home?” He offers.

“You were drinking too mister.”

“No,” he touches the tip of his nose. “I just had a beer and switched to soda afterwards.”

“That’s cheating,” I touch his nose and he laughs. I laugh too.

“We were invited out to drink,” he shrugs. His face flushes. “They didn’t specify what.”

“Cheater,” I tease. “D’you have a car?”

“I could drive yours home? And take an uber home from yours. We don’t live too far away.”

“No way!” I clutch my purse to me. “Nobody drives my car.”

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“It’s my car!” I let him know.

“But it’s parked on the street. You can’t leave it here weirdo.”

He had a point. Damnit.

“Fine,” I hand him my purse. He opens it tentatively and pulls the keys out.

“I just need these,” he hands my purse back.

“I need those back,” I remind him.

“I know,” he laughs, his hand coming down on my shoulder to lead me out. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m parking it in your garage and handing them right back.”

“Good.” I nod.

I pick the music until he tells me I shouldn’t go into singing and he switches the radio to a classical station. I pretend to snore.

“At least it might sober you up.” He pats my leg before snatching his hand off when he realizes he’d touched my bare thigh.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, how much did you drink tonight y/n?”

“No I really don’t feel good.” I complain.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

I do, I grip my door handle and will myself not to throw up in my car. I was at least lucid enough to know I would hate myself for having to clean it up tomorrow.

He pulls into a Trader Joe’s and I launch myself out in time to throw up on the pavement.

“Are you o-“

“Stop!” I splay my hand out behind me. This was embarrassing enough I didn’t need him to see me actually be sick. “Don’t come closer just…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He calls out and walks away.

How pathetic, I think. How pathetic was I.

Suddenly I want to cry and be left alone. I don’t want Damien driving me home, I don’t want to be drunk, and I don’t want to be here in the middle of nowhere.

When Damien gets back I’m sitting on the curb of a garden bed at the edge of a parking lot. He hands me the water and some electrolytes and gives me space which I’m grateful for. He does linger halfway in the driver’s seat and my anxiety builds until I get up and head back to the car.

“Someone kept calling you,” Damien mentions when I open my door. “I picked up after the third call. I didn’t want to bother you out there.”

“Oh, was it my roommate? Deanna?”

“No,” he scratches the back of his neck. I stare at him, waiting for him to sit back in the car and take me home. I wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Okay…?” I grab my phone from the centre console so I can check myself.

“Someone named Harry? He sounded worried?”

I look up at Damien, wondering if it was a joke even though I know it’s not. He doesn’t even know Harry. His face reflects back an awkward realization.

“Oh.” I can’t get out anything more. I could be decent and tell him that wasn’t my boyfriend—it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Damien was looking at me as more than just a casual friend. And a part of me wonders if that’s the only reason he was helping me out tonight. Then I banish the thought—that was rude. “Thanks for…letting me know.”

“I guess you don’t live with him if your roommate’s name is Deanna,” he tries to joke as he finally gets into the car.

“No that would be hard,” I reply. “He doesn’t live in the states.”

“Long distance,” he nods. I don’t reply and the car goes deathly silent as he drives me the rest of the way home.

I check my phone in the silence, Harry’s texted me. Before he called it seems:

Hey is everything alright?

Y/N I want to call you, you didn’t sound too good in your vm

I’m calling you

Shit! Did I call him first?

My face heats up with a stabbing sensation and I try to blink away the headache that was forming.

I check my call logs and sure enough after calling Deanna I’d called Harry. Why had I called him? I don’t even remember what I said in my voice message.

I groan.

“Is everything ok?” Damien asks.

“No I feel like shit-“

“Do you need me to stop again-“

“No.” I wave his concern away. “I just need to get home.”

I feel bad for him. I didn’t think I was leading him on in any way and yet he had driven me home because he liked me? I decide I’d call him his Uber myself to make it even. To feel like I didn’t owe him something.

When I finally drudge up my stairs to my bedroom I can barely be bothered to remove my clothes or take off my makeup. But my brain is wired thinking about Harry, how he called me.

I must still be somewhat drunk because as I lay horizontally in bed with half of my clothes on the floor I pick up the phone and call him.

H’s POV:

“Hi,” her voice is small and tired. My heart squeezes just hearing it.

“Y/n, you’re alright.”

“Yeah sorry, I think I mis-called you instead of my sister. Your names are beside each other.”

“So you were spilling your guts to your sister then?” I smile.

“Spilling my guts?” I can hear the strain in her voice.

I let her worry for a second longer, “No I’m joking.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “What did I say? Please tell me it was nothing embarrassing? It had to be bad if you called me right?”

“It wasn’t bad.” It wasn’t. But she sounded really drunk for a Wednesday night and she was blabbering about drinking too much these days, and needing to stop. It made more sense now that I knew it was for her sister. “But you sounded very drunk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sort of. I just wanted an excuse to call her and life had given me a pretty one.

It was stupid that I needed an excuse to call y/n after everything we went through. But truth was I had tried to get on with my life after we drifted away. And I think I did a decent job. I made the missing part shaped like y/n smaller and smaller until it didn’t bother me as much she wasn’t around. That we didn’t talk.

It was weird because she was a constant for a year—whether I liked it or not we had to be around each other all the time while she worked for me. Right up to the end even as things soured, as I wore regret like a second skin and forced myself to continue being the dick that she came to know me as.

And then she left and it felt like loosening my tie; breathing a little easier because I wasn’t always so hyperaware of her in the same room or next room over, about how she looked that day or the way she smelled, the joke she made or how angry she was with me.

Yet it didn’t help that she lingered everywhere.

But then I got to have her. All of her for a few weeks and letting her go after that felt more akin to torture than living with the regret for months while she worked for me. It was worse because I had her and I had to let her go.

I thought I knew what falling felt like, what it felt like to love somebody in all their flaws and be seen in return. But then I met y/n, fell for y/n, and everything changed.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “I’m home in bed now.”

“Good,” I want to ask her about him. The bloke that answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks suddenly. “Isn’t it very early there?”

“Nearly half past 6,” I say looking at my watch. “And I’m at the gym.”

“That’s early,” she comments.

“I’m a morning gym person now.”

“Watch out world,” she says. It’s sleepy and makes me think of her curled into me on the sofa as our voices dim into sleep. Then nudging her to stay over and falling asleep in bed with me. So many hours of movies gone unwatched because we were too busy just being in each other’s presence.

The thing was, I had to let her go; you can’t cage a bright and vibrant woman like her. But it hurt doing that.

It sucked being selfless.

“You sound tired,” I say even though I want her on the line. Even if it’s to hear the sound of her breathing. “You should go to bed.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wanted to worry about her, to be close to her enough to worry. And the want of it feels like being punched in the gut.

“You there?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yep, sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here. And it’s fine. I know what can happen when you get drunk, I’m glad you left me the voicemail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I miss you. I miss you so often I worry I’ll be stuck with the loss of you forever. And I care so much about you that I can’t risk ruining your life by having you.

“At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time.” She jokes. Her speech grows slower as I’m sure sleep pulls her in.

“No. Seemed like you would’ve had help though.” I comment. Fuck. I couldn’t resist.

“If I knew any better Mr. Styles,” she says. “I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

She’s teasing me, I can hear it in her voice. But my heart pounds as she calls me out.

“Goodnight y/n,” I say cowardly.

“Goodnight Harry,” she replies. I wait for her to hang up first.

That morning, I have an incredibly productive gym session.

Your POV:

I remember last night in bits and pieces and I’m mostly embarrassed but I can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in my head. The way he sounded when he said he was glad I left him the voicemail. How he sounded almost jealous at the idea that whoever picked up the phone could be more than a friend. I feel sucked right back to half a year ago when I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

The one thing I did know though, I had to really cut back on the drinking.

I go into work with a bag of doughnuts and hope nobody remembers last night in detail. I make sure to thank Damien and he’s as awkward as ever.

My thoughts are replaced by business and set instructions as the day goes on and I’m grateful for that.

At home I dissect the phone call with Deanna and when I’ve had enough I try to distract myself by asking about her life.

In a way talking to Harry again was like taking an elephant-sized step backwards—it felt like I was in the same headspace of wondering about him and yearning for him all over again. I found myself looking him up, checking to find new information on his life. Even when I could just text him and get the answers straight from him.

A couple weeks later as I park my car in my garage and make my way up to my apartment I get a call. It’s him.

“Hi? Harry?” I answer.

“There she is!” He says loudly into the phone. I have to pull it from my ear.

“Jeez you’re loud,” I comment.

“I need you to be louder,” he laughs. And I realize why he’s called. I check the time, it must be near midnight in the UK.

“Are you drunk dialling me?” My face stretches into a smile and it feels like a betrayal. Why did this man affect me so easily.

“I thought that’s what we did nowadays! Call each other drunk!”

“That was once,” I enter my apartment and put away my things while we talk.

“You’ve unlocked the garden door,” he continues. “And now I have stepped through. I am calling you.”

“He rhymes even when he’s drunk!”

“I write music!”

“I know,” I laugh. “Good music.”

“D’you listen to me?” He asks. “I never asked you that.”

“Mmm not really my taste,” I tease.

“S’cuse me?!” He sounds offended. “I have heard your taste and my music is for your palate.”

“No I don’t think so,” I was having fun.

“Y/n.” He says seriously. “I have heard you listening to Troye Sivan.”

“And? Are you comparing yourself with that fine man?”

He sputters and I continue winding him up until I finally confess: “I listen to your music. Just not lately.”

“Why?” He sounds sad.

“Are you drinking by yourself?” I ask. I imagine him in his living room, knocking back a few bottles.

“Yes. I’m drinking all by my lonely self. Because you’re not here.”

“Lonely self? That’s not what the papers say,” I say without meaning to.

“Y/n,” he lets out a small laugh. “Y/n y/n y/n. If I knew any better I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

“Oh you’ve been keeping that in your back pocket!” I flush.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

God, it hits me, what were we doing.

The line goes silent and I try to muster a positive voice to ask something to keep the conversation going but I find I can’t. I feel heavy and sad, like there’s a weight in my chest that’s pulling me down.

“Y/n,” he murmurs. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and I recall a memory of that exact voice in my ear with our hands entangled in his bed.

The ache in my chest grows stronger. So strong I nearly confess three words I barely admitted to myself.

I didn't understand it; how a man that made my life so miserable for so long could tug forth such intensity and longing.

He'd explained it to me—told me why he became what he did. And it just endeared me to him more.

Every man l've dated since, even the man I thought was it for me-Gray, never made me reach so deep into any feeling I was scraping the bottom looking for more.

He knew me enough to nudge me towards this new chapter of my life. This (forced) career change. He knew me in a way nobody else has. It was hard to let that go.

But he wasn't planning on sticking around for any of it—why.

“Why,” I start to ask. I bite my tongue before my impulsivity gets the better of me.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Oh nothing,” I try to play it off.

“You asking something?”

“Nope,” I deny.

“Just ask don’t be shy,” Harry taunts. “Y/n isn’t shy.”

“I-“ I’m tempted but I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then say it.” He pushes. He was pushy for being so drunk.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” I ask quickly.

The line goes quiet again.

“It takes two,” he replies. “To stop.”

“But why did you stop?” I ask.

“It wasn’t enough,” he states simply like it should make sense to me. But it doesn’t.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You got cold.”

“Cold?!”

“Yes!” He shouts again.

“Too loud,” I complain.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You got cold like…like ice. You got icy. You iced me out.”

“No I didn’t,” I deflect his accusation.

“You did! And it wasn’t enough. And I thought y/n doesn’t like me so I let you go.”

What!? I try to make sense of his drunk ramblings. It’s because I was fired from my job, I was lost and spiralling and I stopped talking. I stopped responding to his texts as much until they stopped coming altogether.

“I didn’t like you a long time ago,” I tell him. “That stopped after we talked. After you explained things.”

“Why did you stop?” He asks me instead.

“I…I was going through a rough time. I didn’t mean to but after a while I just thought it was for the better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough time?” Harry asks with a surprising tone of clarity. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

“I didn’t want you to help.”

Maybe I did ignore Harry’s messages because I didn’t want to admit where I was. To admit that I needed his help. And I was too stubborn to admit that his connections in the industry could help me further kickstart my new career. That I could lean on him for help but it felt like cheating in an industry that liked to brag about working hard to earn where you got to. So I’d avoided him.

Jeez. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself until now. And suddenly the shame comes back tenfold. A creeping heat spreads up my neck alongside a slow squeezing of my chest as the silence stretches. I feel exposed and I want to bury myself under my blankets until the feeling passes.

“Why?” His voice breaks a little. I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n,” he says my name again and I want to cry. Because I say I don’t know but I do. And so does he. “Why are you building your walls again?”

I can’t speak, I’m so choked up with emotion and the last thing I want to do is cry over the phone to a drunk Harry. Unless this conversation sobered him up. Which is even more embarrassing.

"What do want us to be?" He asks suddenly.

"You can't ask me that," I say nervously, but the question zips through me in a frenzy.

"No you're right" he sighs noisily. "I think about you.”

"Me too," | whisper. Did he think about me when he was with all those women, I want to ask. Or was it subject to certain moments only.

"You ruined me y/n," he says it so softly I think maybe he hasn't said it at all. But he repeats it even lower and I know I didn't hear it twice.

My heart sings the same tune, and then I realize: how did I expect him to stay in touch and continue on with our lives when part of us would always be looking back at each other.

“I should go,” I try to keep my voice steady. “It’s getting late and Deanna’s coming home soon and I have to-“

“Okay,” he says but the word is laced with more. It’s okay.

“Okay.” I return. Will it be?

Silence again. The tears coating my lashes land on my cheeks and I wipe it away.

“I like hearing your voice,” Harry says.

“Me too,” I sniff.

“Goodnight y/n y/l/n.”

“Goodnight Har.”

***

I meant to text Harry after that conversation. I meant to apologize or say something—create a bridge that we can meet in the middle of. Even if it’s just as friends.

Me and him have been through a lot together, and so much on our own whilst around each other. We should be able to be friends, long-distance, pining but friends. It couldn’t be that hard.

And yet my fingers hover over his name every lunch break and bedtime. I think about him so much it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain.

And yet I never message him. Weeks go by and it stays quiet. Even from him.

On the final day on set I join some of the team for dinner and drinks. I stick to a single glass of wine and promise Damien I could drive myself home. I’d set him up with someone else on set who I noticed eyeing him with a lingering look and they had spent most of the night talking. It was sweet.

The group reminisces about the shoot and everyone pipes in about projects they were going to move onto soon. I didn’t have anything lined up right now so I listen to everyone else.

As night creeps up on us and people start to leave slowly, I text Deanna I was heading home too. After the night I spent drinking too much I’d taken to letting her know where I was and when I was heading home to make sure I stayed lucid enough on nights out. Otherwise we had agreed she would come and get me.

I step out with Damien and the girl he’s become attached to after tonight. We chat outside the place for a bit as her uber arrives and Damien points out he had driven today and parked nearby.

“I don’t know why we didn’t walk up long time ago,” I laugh and turn to Damien. “Don’t worry Damien I don’t need you to drive me home this time.”

“Uhh that’s good,” he says and motions behind me to my car with widened eyes.

“Yes,” I say with a smile. I spin around to my car and freeze.

The last person I ever expected to see leans against my passenger door, arms crossed and smiling with that smile that says I see you and I don’t care what you’re doing but I’m glad I’m here with you.

“Hi,” Harry says softly, his eyes twinkling under the street light.

“Hi?” I gape. “Wh-how-what are you…oh my god!”

His smile grows to a full grin as I throw myself at him and it’s like my mind and my whole world quiets. Like I never knew how loud everything was up until I felt the silence in his arms. Like everything would be okay because he was here.

“Oh god,” I turn back to Damien, remembering he was here too. “Sorry—I wasn’t expecting him to be here-“

“Is this Harry?” Damien asks.

I look at Harry and nod in response. Harry’s eyes flash with something as he leans forward and shakes Damien’s hand.

“I didn’t realize by Harry you meant Harry Styles uh it’s nice to meet you?” Damien’s awkwardness comes back in full force.

Harry’s eyes flicker between Damien and I and I remember that he thought there was something going on here.

“Damien and I worked together on set. Today’s actually our last day!”

“Yeah!” Damien fidgets. “It was a cool time…”

“Yeah?” Harry lights up slowly, realization dawning on him too. “Well I have to say thanks mate, for taking care of her the other night. That was you right?”

“Oh right when I picked up your call,” Damien nods. “Shit I didn’t realize who I was speaking to…” We laugh as Damien grows more awkward. “Anyway I’ll leave you two alone. G’night Y/N. Nice meeting you Harry.”

“Goodnight!” I wave him off.

I turn back to Harry with a huge grin. “You totally thought he was with me didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, his hand coming down on my waist, tugging me towards him. I go without hesitation.

“You’re here,” I take his face in my hands. “How? Why? When? Tell me everything.”

“I was in town,” he starts.

“Really?” I raise a brow.

He laughs, and hearing it rumble through his chest while his arms encircle me feels like a shot of espresso straight to my heart.

"Y/n," his mouth forms my name. I want to taste the way that feels again. See if that's changed too.

"You're here."

"How did you know?" I ask even though I knew it had to be Deanna.

“I have my sources,” he smiles secretly. We can’t stop smiling.

He brushes my hair to the side and it feels like a dream. He was here. He was gathering my face in his hands, hands I only dreamed of.

“I was in town,” he begins again. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

My breath catches and I can't stop staring at him; he looks even more handsome and chiseled than the last time I saw him.

He looked like something that made my heart sing and my stomach tingle.

I trace my hand up his arm and around his shoulder. I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his arms around me.

He laughs which makes me laugh but neither of us take our eyes off of each other.

He reaches up, fingers threading through my hair. "Is this okay?"

"You're always okay," | say which makes him laugh again. What I mean to say is we're okay. Whatever you want to do is okay, as long as it's with me.

"I missed you." He whispers in my ear and it travels right to the centre of my heart.

"Prove it." I respond.

His mouth is delicate as it presses against mine, whispering soft words against them. They make me ache with a hunger I'd only ever felt around him.

When he looks at me again his eyes are more black then green but I recognize them the same. I don’t know how we’re going to make the trip back home when clearly we just want to soak each other in again.

I have an idea.

I open the backseat and Harry looks at me with a mischievous smile.

“Really?”

“You’re not getting lucky,” I roll my eyes with a smile. “But I really want to kiss you indecently and this is the closest place to do that.”

With a laugh he hustles in, tossing something in the backseat, and I follow, every inch of my body aflame. He shuts the door behind me and meets me halfway.

***

Waking up to Harry is better than catching up with him last night. Because things are so much more real when they remain the morning after. It doesn’t feel like just a dream.

“G’morning,” he mumbles when our eyes meet. He looks sleepy but content. Or maybe that’s just how I feel.

“Morning,” I smile, suddenly feeling shy. Last night was all passion and fun but the reality sets in this morning—what were we? Where were we going from here? “M’gonna brush my teeth.”

He follows me into the bathroom, luckily Deanna’s already headed off for work. He brushes with me in the small sink and we can’t stop looking at each other through the mirror. Like our eyes were magnets and they couldn’t help but find their way to the other’s.

“So did you really come all this way for me?” I ask as I brew us coffee. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

He tilts his head, “a couple people know I’m here but everyone thinks I’m just taking some time before we wrap up my album next month.”

“What!” I stop what I’m doing to give him my full attention. “You’re nearly done?”

“Yeah!” He comes closer to me, taking the coffee pot from my hand. “Final sound editing at the studio up north. So I’m s’pose to be here next month anyway but I’m just here early. For you.”

I’m afraid to ask, did that mean he was all mine for the next couple weeks of November? But the moment passes and I continue putting together a breakfast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say for the millionth time.

“Me too,” he kisses the side of my neck and helps me carry our coffees to the table. “I intend to spend as much time with you as possible.”

He answers my unasked question and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside. “Yeah well I just finished on set so I’m unemployed until the next thing I’m on. So I’m all yours.”

“How’s that all going? Tell me.”

So I do. I take him through the sets I’ve been on and the people I’ve worked with. He asks great questions and I feel so deeply seen and not just because he doesn’t take his eyes off of me once.

The conversation leads to a repeat of last night and we end up spending most of the day in bed but I wasn’t complaining.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” he says with a kiss on my head. “Just stayed wrapped up in sheets all day.”

“I think the last time I did this was in London, with you.” I kiss his chin. “That feels so long ago.”

“Every day without you feels so long,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long.”

I shrug, “Yeah. I think I convinced myself it was good. We were fine like that. But now that I have you my god that was too long.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a deeper kiss. He tastes like sleepy familiarity and his hands grip me in places that have made a home for his fingers. I think I was in love with this man.

“What?” Harry asks. I must have paused. “You alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” I go back to kissing him but he pulls away. “No I’m fine! Promise.”

He believes me.

We spend a few days just doing nothing but everything with each other. I introduce him to Deanna and we do dinner together with Harry in a costume so he doesn’t get recognized. Deanna finds it very amusing and so do I. Harry seems tense and I worry it’s because we’re laughing at him but he reassures me it’s not.

I know it wasn’t going to last forever, Harry had a busy life to get back to, but I savour the slow moment we have all to ourselves.

Near the end of the week, while I’m driving us out to a hiking spot Harry brings up something on his mind.

“Can I say something, and you can’t get mad?”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.”

“Try not to?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I can’t promise him that.

“Fine I’ll settle with maybe,” he jokes.

“So are you going to tell me?” I eye him as I pull into the parking lot. He had gone silent.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” He bites his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem a bit distant. Not from me just…from yourself.”

“I seem distant from myself?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he fidgets with his belt and we exit the car. “Like the y/n I know is only 70% there.”

“What?!”

“No see now don’t go getting mad love,” he says and his pet name only softens the moment slightly. “I just wonder if you’re really alright.”

“Of course I am,” I bristle.

“You always have this fire about you but right now-.”

“Jeez Har, if you’re comparing me to before in London I was more high strung than usual, constantly stressed and having personal issues with my ex. And you were making my life hell. Why are you comparing me to her?”

“No I know!” Harry tries to hold my arm but I brush him off and speed away down the trail. But his stupid long legs catch up easily. “This isn’t coming out how I meant to. But even when we were together last spring. You were still you. You just seem a little sad?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull away from him more. “You can’t go MIA for months then pop back into my life and tell me I’ve changed like it’s a bad thing.”

“Y/n you’re purposely not understanding me here,” Harry starts to grow frustrated beside me and it makes me less frustrated sharing the emotion. Like I said—I was very healthy. “I’m not saying you’ve changed. Or that changing is a bad thing! I think you’re a lot more confident and stronger than ever before. I’m just saying your light’s been a bit dimmer in the time I’ve been with you and I’m worried you’re going through something you’re not sharing.”

“Oh my god,” I feel tears prick my eyes and I blink them away before stuffing my glasses onto my face. “My light’s been dimmer? Seriously? I’m fine. I’m okay Harry. You don’t have to worry-“

“But I want to-“

“Well you don’t. And it’s a little late to try and pry me open and dissect what you think is wrong with me.”

“Well I’ve already pried you open it’s the dissecting part that—ow!”

I’ve hit him with my bottle and he shuts up. He was so not funny.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Too little too late, I think bitterly. And the strength of the bitterness surprises me. I stay quiet, not wanting to spew anything I’ll regret later. He trails behind, giving me the space I need.

Apparently I was bitter about our time apart. But I know that wasn’t entirely his fault—I’d admitted to pushing him away because I’d been too embarrassed. Too stubborn to accept I could use his help. So what was it?

I didn’t think I was any less myself than I was a year ago. But as soon as I think it I know it’s untrue.

I sigh and let the sunlight filtering through the coastal oaks and shrubbery warm my skin. Harry continued a steady pace behind me and I feel slightly sorry for getting so defensive.

I continue one step at a time on the worn path walked by so many. I’d done this several times with friends and it was supposed to be special doing it with Harry but I’ve just ruined it.

I ruined it.

If I was any lesser than in my personality, like Harry said, it was probably because I ruined things. And I was upset with myself. I feel like I let Harry go, that I failed at the career I thought I was going to spend a lifetime. I ruined the thing between Harry and I with pride, by pushing him away! And life’s beaten me down with it.

I haven’t been being very honest with myself. Because the truth did hurt. And I’ve been a wimp.

I glance back at Harry but his head his down, his head of curls bouncing at the effort of the uphill slope. My heart floods with warmth just looking at him and I can’t believe I’ve been an idiot.

“Harry,” I stop in the middle of the trail and he nearly bumps into me. He steadies himself on my shoulder and I grasp his hand there before he can remove it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch back there.”

“It’s alright.” He squeezes my shoulder, but his eyes are still wary. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I do that sometimes.”

“No,” I rush to answer. “No you have a point. And I don’t expect you to ever stop calling me out-“

“Likewise,” he gives me a small smile that feels like relief.

“You’re right. I just don’t think I’ve sat long enough to accept it.”

His finger brushes my cheek, wiping the fallen tear. I was not supposed to cry!

“Let’s keep going,” he suggests and I’m grateful for that.

“I think,” I sniffle as my body strains to finish the final stretch of our hike. “I feel like I should be happy and grateful for where I am now. I’m actually really passionate about this new work I’ve been taking on! But a part of me feels like I’m going through the motions. And that makes me feel so shitty.”

My life in London had crashed and burned but it had felt full. Out here I was so spread apart from everyone, I no longer worked at a steady job, and the only person I had was Deanna. Sometimes I think I relied on her too much.

“I think you expect too much of yourself,” Harry puts his hand around my shoulder as we near the end and even though I’m sweaty and it’s kind of gross I let him. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah maybe,” I brush away another tear. “I just don’t feel very present. I’m either living in the future or living in the past.”

Harry’s face twists into what I can only describe as a knowing grimace.

“Well we made it,” I gesture to the open water below us. We stand for a little while, breathing it in. It reminds me of the first music video set I’d been on with him. When we were getting along and he had seen my enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

“I’ve been living in the past a lot.” Harry admits. “More than usual.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Y/n,” he says and I turn to look at him. Right, I flush. Me.

“What the fuck did we do to each other?” I ask and we laugh. And then laugh some more, releasing a tension neither of us realized we were carrying.

We end up sitting in the ground catching our breaths again. He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.

“I don’t know how we keep screwing up.”

“It should be a record,” I laugh. “We really don’t know how to deal with each other.”

“Fucking hell,” he laughs.

“What do we do?” I look up into his eyes that are deeper than the forest we hiked through. They’re so full of love that I could drown in them willingly.

“Firstly I should tell you something, long overdue.” He says. He kisses me with a sweetness before telling me, “I’m madly in love with you. I never thought I could feel this way about someone.”

“Well I don’t know how that someone could be me,” I joke but mostly to cover up just how hard his words hit.

“You wound up in my life when I was at my worst-“

“And taken you even lower,” I joke again.

“No.” He brushes my cheek. “No, that was my own doing. You made me believe I could be better. That I should be better, that I shouldn’t be defined by past mistakes. I love you y/n.”

Woah. I wasn’t expecting that.

I scramble to sit up and face him. “Seriously?”

“So serious.”

“Harry,” I hold his face in my hands. It was true, something I barely admitted to myself but as I roll the words through my head it feels true.

“Don’t feel pressured to-“

“I love you too Harry. God. I love you. That felt good to say.”

He laughs and pulls me to him, and even though we’re smiling too hard to actually get a proper kiss in it’s one of the most romantic moments of my life.

“I don’t think this is going to solve our issues,” he says once we’ve dusted ourselves off and prepare to say goodbye to the view. “But I want to try to stay connected.”

“You’ve told me you love me there’s no getting rid of me now.” I warn him.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I never told you I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you so fucking badly because I was scared you would get so overwhelmed by my life, how much is in the public eye and all of that. I don’t want to subject you to that-“

“We’ve already been papped together remember?” I raise a brow. He blushes as the memory surfaces.

“The night I acted like a complete arse yeah thanks for reminding me.”

“Look at you blushing,” I pat his cheek. He brushes me off. “But I know what I’m getting myself into Harry. I’ve worked for you! I know how public your life is. And we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I reassure him.

“Does that mean…?”

“What are you asking Mr. Styles?”

“Please don’t call me that again,” he groans. “I don’t want to be Mr. Styles to you anymore.”

“No?”

“Only if you’d be Mrs. Styles.”

Now it’s my turn to flush. He laughs at me the same way I did him.

“Harry I barely know what I’m doing with my life. But I do know I love you, and I want to be with you. So I’ll figure the life stuff out as long as I get to have you.”

“That’s very romantic.” He teases.

“I know,” I smile.

“Good. I’d give up the life I have now if it means getting to have you Y/N.”

“Romantic enough,” I tease.

“Remember when we realized we had been at the same Coldplay concert and-“

“Not this again,” I groan. “I’m not bloody asking you to give up your fame and money to start a family.”

“I know I know!” He laughs. “But I just want to tell you that you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

I fan myself, “It’s getting too romantic. Let’s get out of here.”

And that’s the note on which we make our way back down to our car, completely different how we made our way up. It sets the tone for the remainder of his time here.

8 months later:

“G’morning!” I wave to the front desk and walk to the elevator that would take me up to the apartment I called home now. It was spring in the city I’ve grown to love again.

“Is that you?” Harry’s voice calls out when I walk to the kitchen.

“Yes! And I have coffee!” I shout back. I couldn’t sleep last night—first day jitters that I always got when working on a new set.

“Bollocks!” Harry’s voice sounds closer. “I was supposed to do that for you for first day on set.”

“Too bad,” I push the coffee towards him on the island but he ignores it to come to me instead.

“Is it?” He arches a brow. His hands are already running up my sides and my breathing grows shallow. He never failed to pull this reaction from me. Even when we “hated” each other.

I can’t take the teasing so I lean up to press my mouth to his and the coffee is forgotten as he lifts me up on the island and trails his lips down my body. I didn’t need caffeine when I had this.

No. Wait. I had a job to get to.

“Harry,” I try to grab his face back up. “Harry, love, I can’t-fuck.”

“Sorry,” he smiles up at me sheepishly and if I could take a shot of that face it would seriously sustain me for the rest if my life.

“I can’t.” I pout.

“I know. Sorry I got carried away.”

“Drink your coffee,” I steal one last kiss. “Now I feel like I need a cold shower.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I said I was sorry!”

He dramatically moves to the opposite end of the island and sits down, holding the coffee up to his face. “Mmmm.”

I smile at the man who had my soul and heart. I was so glad I’d made the plunge to move back to where he was.

After Harry left the States when he finished his album we had tried our best at long-distance. I was afraid to uproot my life to London again and he was willing to move out to San Francisco but I didn’t want him to. I knew his life was in London.

We tried going back and forth for a couple months. I’d invited him back home to Burbank during one of those trips and everyone had hit it off. It almost felt like the missing piece I was looking for to take the plunge. To decide once and for all I was moving away again.

The last time I moved I was running away from everything I knew because I thought it would gain me independence and a life I craved. But ultimately I came crawling back home.

This time I take the leap running to something.

I miss being closer to family, and living with my best friend. I beg Deanna to visit every time we catch up but recently she’s told me she’s moving in with the guy she’s been dating and it makes me feel less bad about leaving her behind again.

Harry decided to move his work life out of the flat to give me privacy, now his team worked out of a small office in central and sometimes I popped by when he was there. We tried to keep ourselves out of the limelight, and so far things had stayed private.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight,” Harry reminds me. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift there too?”

“No I want to take the train,” I insist. I needed my first day to be independently mine.

We chit chat as we finish breakfast and then I’m out the door again towards my first day. It’s a cool morning but the sun climbs into the sky and I know it was only going to get warmer.

I had promised the city that I’d be back one day and this was it. I had laid down roots once before and I was back to try once more; my heart was open enough to embrace it, healed enough to love it again.

I was embracing life again and it felt like my glow was back.

Jeff keeps asking if you’re showing up to the album launch, Harry texts.

Obviously, does Jeff not want me there? I text—it was a running joke between us ever since we came out to Jeff that he hated us together. His reaction had been surprise and then resignation. He was tight-lipped about us any time he saw us together.

He’d rather you throw the party.

I didn’t miss that part of the job. Now when I look back at my old career I’m not sure how I did it for years. It was a stress I didn’t want back.

He’d have to pay me a million dollars, I text back.

I’ll let him know your new rates

I get to the tube and sit down. As I lose service I get one last text from Harry.

I love you. Break a leg

And then: but don’t get concussed or anything

I roll my eyes but the smile stays on my face. To be loved is to be known but to be loved is also to have someone else know all of your stupid moments and know you won’t ever live them down.

I send back a heart and an eye-roll emoji.

The tradeoff was worth it…most of the time.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Meryl, Luida, and Bridging the Gap

This is just a quick little side-note I wanted to make about the similarities between Meryl and Luida that I noticed as I was reading, and how they end up occupying similar, yet complementing roles in the story.

***Disclaimer: I was sick when I wrote this and my head is full of fog lmao. If I have completely left out a word or something... don't even worry about it it's fine.

First off, on a surface level, they both are characterized as capable, intelligent, level-headed women, who are suddenly thrust into leadership positions, with Meryl being assigned the task of tracking down and mitigating the damage caused by Vash the Stampede plus looking out for her new protégé, Milly, and Luida stepping up to take charge of Ship 3 and its residents after Doc's death.

While the demand placed on them both is immense, nonetheless, they are shown to be quite capable of shouldering this kind of responsibility - however, given their intense focus and objective-driven personalities, they actually both get scenes where they are somewhat horrified by their own temporary prioritization of objectives over morality. We see this with Meryl in Trigun Volume 1 when she doesn't react in righteous anger to Badwick threatening his parents and had shut herself off from writing to her own in pursuit of her job, and with Luida when she briefly considers the idea of another July incident to stop Knives. Both think negatively of themselves for this - of course, I'm of the mind that since they are upset with themselves on reflection, this proves the exact opposite, really. I think they both have hearts of gold, they're just under a lot of stress, especially as time goes on. The two of them are human beings who falter, but whose morals ultimately align closely with what Vash wants to see in the world. Really, what the two of them hate most here is the idea of their own inaction or taking the easy way in the face of wrongdoing - a concept that drives them into action going forward.

[ID: Two images from Trigun and Trigun Maximum. The first is from Trigun Volume 1. Over images of trees and Badwick's father, Meryl says "But I... I just stood there and took it all in without even budging. I am such a cold person. I chose this path of blood and tears without thinking about the rest of my life. All I can see is what's right in front of me." Meryl starts to cry as she continues, "Why could I not see... that when I closed myself off to him, something was wrong? I..." She then slaps her cheeks and says "No... never mind!" The second image is from Trigun Maximum Volume 8. A single tear runs down Luida's cheek. Meryl says "Miss Luida...?" Her back turned to Meryl, Luida says "I'm sorry. I... was thinking for a moment. If something like July would happen again... it could stop Knives, but... ... I'm a terrible woman. End ID.]

Both of them also have a connection to Vash's past that gives them a different perspective on him as a person, instead of just an ally - Meryl, of course, gets brain-blasted in Volume 5 with Vash's memories (poor thing), but Luida is also more familiar with him than even a lot of the people on Ship 3, it seems - enough that she calls him out for blaming himself after the attack, clearly used to hearing this from him. She also is the one to clear up at least some of Wolfwood's confusion and uncertainty.

We also get this interesting parallel of them both watching Vash walk away to face Knives, him having rejected their offers of help. It's something that clearly saddens them both, as they watch him fight alone again and again, and wish he wouldn't. Both of them have moments where they feel they can't offer much in the way of assistance, or that their best efforts aren't enough.

[ID: Two images from Trigun and Trigun Maximum. The first is from Trigun Volume 2. Vash, his back turned, runs off into the chaos, a Plant seen above him and the city ahead, as he yells back "Get as far away from here as you can! Get to safety!" Meryl watches him from the door. In the second image, from Trigun Maximum Volume 8, a grainy flashback shows Vash's turned back as he walks away from a young Luida, who is reaching out to him. End ID.]

Of course, we the readers know this isn't true at all! Meryl and Luida do so much over the course of the story.

Interestingly, they don't start off as the ones completely in charge - Meryl works for Bernadelli even if she is in charge of her assignment, and Luida is presumably part of the Council, but the one in charge is initially Doc. But once they do take over - Luida after Doc's death, and Meryl once the world is thrown into ruins and Bernadelli no longer exists - there is a striking difference in the way they act from their predecessors.

Meryl goes from simply following Vash around to taking a self-directed and active role in assisting him however she can - looking for his old belongings and anything else of potential use, asking Marlon to repair his gun, creating a distraction with Milly, and helping the Earth Federation in the final hour with no hesitation.

Luida takes a much more active role in rallying Ship 3 to assist Vash as well. While some of this may simply have been because the stakes were raised much higher after Volume 3, Ship 3, while already a base of support for Vash, was a distant safe haven, kept largely separate from the rest of the world. Up until that point, they had provided Vash with aid, but not fought alongside him, something that clearly bothers Luida on multiple occasions. She decides to change this. She's the one who sets out to help as many of the towns ravaged by the Ark as possible. She rallies the Ship 3 residents for a rescue mission to help Vash. She's the one to step forward and attempt to bring all the leaders around to standing with Vash.

Which brings me to my last comparison point. They're both staunchly supportive of Vash, quick to come to his aid, and quick to defend his character from those who doubt his intent - Luida even sharply calls out her own people for their moment of mistrust after hearing about July. These two know and care about Vash on a more personal level than most - and as we all know, due to his avoidant tendencies, this is not an easy thing to do. Vash is frequently misinterpreted, and these two are often the ones to set the record straight.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 3. Luida, sternly, says "That's a foolish question. You would know the answer just by looking at the scars on his body. If he had used his true immortality, those scars would not be there. End ID.]

In this way, much like Vash is a bridge between humans and Plants, Meryl and Luida are something of a bridge between humans and Vash.

And they're able to do this because deep down, their ideals align closely with his - they're not just supporting someone they care about; they have a similar desire to see the kind of world he fights for, and they choose to fight for it too.

But while Luida is something of a spokesperson for Vash, reaching out to humanity, it is almost as if Meryl becomes the voice of humanity reaching back, responding to him, and agreeing that not everything in the world is awful; that it is worth believing in the best in others. They need to stand together.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 14. Meryl, in a spacesuit, with frank determination, says, "Because we decided to stand together. We stand with Vash the Stampede." End ID.]

Meryl is the voice of proof that some people believe in the love and peace he speaks of, and are willing to say it back to him in turn.

Updated on my masterpost - my other book club stuff can be found here!

[lion-buddy]

You've started writing notes for swap au concepts?

care to share some?

hehe yeah sure

ever since i found out abt cure puka, role swapping them and prim is something ive been rotating in my mind. and now that i have the actual story in book form i was able to really sit down with it and think. initially my ideas were pretty basic with a generic role swap. puka is now the cure while prim is the fairy and nothing else changes. it was more for sillies and i wasnt sure how to formulate an actual story around it.

i drew these back when all i had were the trailers to go off of lol

a complete story is my end goal when writing any au. i really like to take into consideration how the entire story could be affected by this change and im a big stickler for trying to make it all make sense. i figured there are two ways i could go about this. one is that i can stick to the original concept of a basic role swap. im sure i could make some sort of story out of it. but it was just. kinda boring to me. the story would follow a lot of the same beats. the only real change being that they look different. maybe change things up with a team swap as well? idk. or maybe swap their personalities, but i found that to be kinda. reductive. i feel half the appeal of personality swaps is redesigning the characters as such and well.

idk not much would change lol. There personalities are inverse of each other and so are their designs. It’d be pretty boring to me

and option two. i ended up laying out what drives these two characters. prim is driven to act though a desire to gain power and prove their strength. pukas actions revolve around their hatred of their power. the two contrast each other in personality, with prim being emotionless and blunt while puka is very much the opposite. i want to stay true to that. so i decided to try and swap their moralities. they would still follow their principles since it defines their characters, but they would have different goals due to circumstance, idk if that makes sense. it would probably help if everyone actually knew the story lol. soon,,, but yeah. puka becomes more of the driving force, taking prims place as a "precure" and being the one in charge. swap pukas goals are different, and their relationship to their strength and power is complicated. i dont fully know what im doing with them yet but i have ideas. swap prim on the other hand is forced into a passive role as a fairy. prim does not like this. they will bite you.

overall i just want to ensure the theme of power and "what is a precure" is kept in tack since i find that to be most important. its all veryyy interesting to me and i dont want to say too much since its still very fresh and being worked out and i dont want to contradict myself later but. yeah :]

[slightlyaggressiveaffirmations]

So, Slightly Aggressive Affirmer, what's your whole deal?

Great question, Clive.

(Sorry, I thought you were some sort of chat show host called Clive. Let me readjust my worldview)

Great question, friends. Why did I write Aggressive Affirmations in a consistently reliable, ritual manner for 5 years and then stop doing it and constantly keep coming back and promising to start again and never making good on it?

Well. There are actually 3 answers to that question.

.

Answer #1

To begin with, let's reposition our worldview - just as we did with Clive. Now, let's change the way we see me, The Slightly Aggressive Affirmer. What if we put a new filter over me - we'll call it the "Autism Filter". I haven't got the money to go through the diagnosis process but it's looking pretty likely.

With that filter on, look again at my being absolutely focused on writing affirmations for 5 years and then stopping to suddenly focus obsessively on my research work for the next 2 or 3 - except for the two months I took off to sit on the porch every single day and write a medieval romance novel.

Now I want to get back into affirming again and I try to - I still feel it's important and I keep saying to myself I'll do it - but I just don't have that obsessive drive to do it anymore.

I think if we look at this with the autism filter, it starts to paint a pretty clear picture of what might be going on here...

.

Answer #2

It became more and more difficult, and more high stakes to write affirmations, as the number of followers kept growing. There are now 15000 - although who knows how many of you are still on Tumblr? But that's a lot of responsibility and it became very stressful to keep making sure SAAs are for everyone and that no one feels excluded by them (excepting people who should always be excluded, like Nazis). When it was just a few random people reading affirmations, it was much easier to chuck in a few and whatever. But the more the blog grew, the greater the stress.

.

Answer #3

I started writing Slightly Aggressive Affirmations for myself. I was the only one following the blog and it was set to send ME reminders of my own value - in the kind of aggressive language necessary to get through to me - because I was extremely low on confidence and needed real force to get it in to my head. But then things snowballed.

Thing is - I don't need them any more. It's harder to think of the kinds of things I should write, because I know longer need them myself. I have Slightly Aggressively Affirmed myself to a really great place, in terms of my self confidence and self love. I still have bipolar, and right now my life isn't going so great, so I get depressed but I do not believe fundamentally, at my core, that I am bullshit trash.

My primary emotion nowadays is possibly worse! I'm driven by anger a lot of the time - I've got a lot of deep rage, caused by long ago trauma. (I'm in therapy, don't worry). But I think most people would agree that I'm a fundamentally different person to who I was pre-pandemic. I'll tell you more about it some time. But I am drastically different - and definitely more than SLIGHTLY aggressive most of the time.

.

In conclusion, I believe affirming used to be an autistic special interest of mine and now it is not - but I'd love to make it one again! Especially now my two-year long, 65 000 word research project is finished. But it's much harder to get back to where I was, because the number of followers I have now is different, Tumblr is different and I am hugely different as a person.

Thankyou for reading this short essay/memoir. I'll see what I can do about a little affirming tomorrow.

Always remember that YOU MATTER!!! YOU ARE IMPORTANT!!! YOU ARE THE ONLY FUCKING YOU IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD!!! THINK ABOUT HOW FUCKING MAGICAL THAT IS!!!

[lastontheboat]

Fandom creators self rec game! Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

Thank you @tackytigerfic for providing me an opportunity for navel-gazing! I enjoyed reading about your own favourites; I find it super interesting to see what other creators value about their works.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it)

This is my favourite completed fic for a number of reasons:

1. I had always wanted to try writing an epistolary

2. I had always wanted to try collaborating on a fic with a friend

3. The writing process was an absolute joy

It feels like a distillation of many of my favourite things, but unlike many fics the creation process didn't involve tearing my hair out trying to make it do what I wanted. Whenever I'd get stuck, I'd just close the document and go to bed, then when I woke up the next morning @fluxweeed would have added several new scenes that set my brain on fire. It was an absolutely magical experience for me, and I'm extremely fond of the end result. This is probably the fic of mine that I've re-read the most, and it delights me every time!

Podfic of Stop All The Clocks, by firethesound

I've got a lot of podfics to choose from, but this is one that I'm particularly proud of. The original fic is imprinted on my soul, but the thing that sticks with me more than the actual plot is the sensation of reading it and feeling my heart break over and over.

Making podfics is a very personal craft for me. It's an investment of my time, and I generally choose ones to record that I strongly associate with a particular first-time reading experience. This was my sixth large podfic project, and I really wanted my reading to amplify the heartbreak that's already present in the text. It was a much more emotional recording and editing process than most of my podfics, but it's also the only one I've listened to entirely after releasing it.

I'm extremely fond of every listener who has taken the plunge and commented about their experience of it, and completely understand everyone who has been like "I don't fuck with that fic. You couldn't pay me to listen it."

body electric

This is the first fic I can recall writing that was entirely driven by a feeling. I remember being consumed by the idea of that spark between Harry and Draco, of them needing to feed it and hold it but being unable to act upon it. I was between jobs and had a lot of time to myself, and I wrote this fic in a fugue state over the space of two days. I had never experienced a writing process so feverish before, and I don't know if I will again.

I also need to shout out the beta feedback I got from @zaharya on this one, whose very insightful comments about the passage of time in the second chapter led to me adding a bunch of my favourite lines to it:

“I want to bend you over this table,” he says, panting now. “I want you under me, here in my workshop. You’ll leave here and every time you smell wood shavings you’ll think of me.” “I already do,” Malfoy says, his voice cracking.

Podfic of If The Fates Allow, by saras_girl

I spend a lot of time listening to audiobooks these days, and I really appreciate being able to consume so many stories while driving or cooking. For me, recording a podfic is about giving others the opportunity to experience some of my favourite fics, and trying to capture some of what they mean to me in my voicing.

saras_girls fics hold a very special place in my heart, and this one is my absolute favourite of hers. As a podfic, the biggest challenge here was dealing with the ensemble cast—it stretched the limits of unique voices I could do without them sounding forced, but it was also exciting trying to keep the voices consistent across 25 chapters.

the spirit is willing (the flesh is weak)

This is the newest fic that I finished (the only one so far in 2023), but I haven't made too much noise about it on here because it's attached to my alt account. This one started out as a concept that wouldn't leave me alone (Bill/Ginny fuck or die), but it's also another data point in my exploration of what it's like to write smut.

I still don't think it comes naturally to me, whatever that means—I'm much more comfortable keeping my writing to Teen, but I'm very satisfied with how this fic achieves what I set out to do with it. It was a stretch, but a good stretch!

[elfdragon12]

A Time For Play

(Some suggestive frisky shenanigans. It's Tracks, so of course it doesn't go smoothly. ;3)

"So I've been thinking..."

"That's dangerous, Raoul."

"Oh, really creative, Tristan."

"Excuse my lack of orignal witticisms while I'm in the middle of leg presses." Tristan let out a breath as he pushed the weights out. He eased them back down. His blue eyes looked up to his, well, whatever they were to each other. As much as he wanted to label their relationship, he wasn't going to push. "What were you thinking about?"

"So your sister is Road Rage, popular and talented wrestler, and the two of you used to watch it together. If you're like any siblings I know, you used the moves on each other, right?

Another rep. "Frequently." Another rep.

"You keep yourself fit, you're a good-looking guy, and you have a strong personality.

"Thank you." Another rep. "I think."

Raoul waved off the doubt. "I wouldn't hang around if it was a bad thing. But anyway, why didn't you go into wrestling too? The two of you could probably make a killer tag team." His warm brown eyes watched Tristan's face.

One more rep and Tristan eased the weights down for a break. "Well," he said as he breathed out, "believe it or not, I do actually enjoy finance, business, and so on, especially as my skill in understanding a contract has helped Rochelle along the way." He grabbed a towel and wiped his face and neck. "As fun as I found wrestling, I never had the drive like she did in sports. Nor the desire to throw myself at people and hope they catch me."

Unbidden, Tristan's mind pulled up a memory of shouting and harsh words, ending in Rochelle walking out of their parents' home for the last time in months. Or maybe it was years?

"It was also not a popular choice with our parents." He did his best to keep the shame out of his voice. By the grimace on Raoul's face, he wasn't as successful as he had hoped. "Rochelle was driven though."

Raoul was silent as Tristan took a drink of water.

"Wanna show me?"

"Hm?"

"Wanna show me the kind of wrestling moves the two of you would do?"

Tristan couldn't hold back a little laugh. "Well, this gym doesn't have any couches for what we'd do as children." He stood and, balancing against the machine, looked around. "Though maybe we can do a few things she'd pull on me while she was training. There's an empty spot right over there."

"First thing, of course," he continued once they walked away from the machines, "is the lock-up. You've seen it, I'm sure."

"That thing they do when they run right at each other and push back and forth."

"Exactly, so you'll place your hands here," Tristan set one of Raoul's hands against his shoulder and the other wrapped around the back of neck, "and I'll set mine opposite of yours. Then we can push or pull each other back and forth until we hit the next beat."

As Raoul looked up at him with those lovely dark brown eyes, all Tristan could think about was how close their faces were.

Then Raoul started pushing.

In his surprise, Tristan was forced a few steps back. "Nice try," he said as he pushed back to keep a stalemate, "but I'm not so worn out as that!" He pushed back.

Although Tristan trained so frequently, Raoul was no slouch. He gave as well as he got, pushing Tristan back after he lost some ground. Tristan could feel the thrill in his blood at the playful competition. This was why he couldn't get enough of him!

Raoul forced a short laugh. He made eye contact. "So, teach, what next?" The confidence in the toothy grin was enough to get Tristan grinning back.

"Just this." Tristan slipped one hand from the lock up and pushed Raoul's arm up. He slipped his head underneath, his arms wrapping around Raoul's torso as he circled behind. His hands ran up, pushing Raoul's arms out of the way, and took hold behind his neck. He thrust a leg in front. And pushed forward.

With a yelp, Raoul tilted forward. However, Tristan held him still.

"No bumps today," he grunted, his heart thumping with excitement and exertion, "your face is too handsome for that." Leaning over Raoul's shoulder, he pecked a kiss on his cheek. The resulting flush on his face had Tristan's mind soaring in triumph.

"Thanks," Raoul said. His stance loosened as Tristan eased up on the hold. However, a devious grin was the only warning before his arms wrapped around Tristan's neck. "We ain't done yet though!" He pulled down.

Both tumbled to the floor.

Tristan grunted, the air rushed out of his lungs. However, no quarter was given and Raoul was on top of him, staddling his stomach. Raoul snatched his wrists, pinning them to the floor. Tristan tried to shift, but he was held back down.

"One," Raoul counted, "two, and three. I win."

"You know," Tristan breathed out, "you're supposed to let me kick out at two and a half." Testing Raoul's grip, he squirmed.

"Nah," Raoul said, keeping his grip firm. "I'm not in the mood to draw it out too long. I think it's time we switched it up a bit." His eyes darkened as he shifted his hips back. "Up the stakes, if you know what I mean." The curve of his backside met flush with Tristan's pelvis.

All thoughts that weren't about Raoul and the feel of his body disappeared from Tristan's mind. His eyes widened as he stared up at him. "Oh," was all he could say, especially when Raoul shifted just so.

Leaning forward, Raoul hovered over Tristan. "Real cute when you forget how to speak."

"J-just surprised," Tristan rushed out. It was a struggle to keep his body still, to not chase the blissful pressure of their bodies pressed together. "You're going to have to try a little harder than that."

Raoul hummed. "Right," he said. His hand slid from Tristan's wrist down his arm, and up his neck. With the slightest pressure, he tilted his lover's chin up. "As if I don't know exactly how to make you speechless."

Whatever Tristan was going to say, it was lost as the two were suddenly drenched in cold water. The two jolted up. Raoul's wet hair hung in his face as Tristan coughed up the water tht got in his nose and mouth.

"Huh, turns out it ain't that hard."

They looked up and grimaced.

Standing over them with a now empty jug was Bautista. A wry smirk pulled at his face as he watched them. While not a tall man, he towered over them in this moment.

"It's not what it looks like!" Tristan tried, though he wilted under the deadpan stare he got in return. "Alright. It is what it looks like."

Bautista shook his head. "Hey, I know how it is. I got five kids with my wife and it ain't just because we wanted more of them." He smirked at the face the two younger men pulled. "Don't want to hear it from me? I better not see it from you. Now let's get the two of you up." With little effort, he grabbed their hands and pulled them upright.

"We won't do it again?" Raoul tried, looking appropriately repentant with all the wet hair.

"You won't," Bautista agreed, "especially after you get some extra duties for a week to remind you to keep it in private." He snickered when they groaned. "First one? Mop up this mess."

By this time, Tristan's face matched his red hair. "Yes, sir," he sighed.

The two were quiet as Bautista left them to it.

"Next time, we'll find a better hiding spot."

"Raoul!"

[sheisalivingchild]

Who's afraid of a YA villain protagonist?

Creating the Hunger Games posts I want to see in the world by starting a sideblog...

I've been seeking out review and reaction content for TBOSAS for the last few weeks, and while I've seen a lot of what basically amounts to flag planting about whether or not it's okay to feel sympathetically towards Snow, I feel like there's a hesitancy to actually engage with his character. Even for people coming down on the side of "yeah it's obviously fine," the trend seems to be to keep him at disavowable arms' length. To me, especially while reading the book, and especially in the first sections, I found Coryo to be really relatable in a lot of ways. There's clearly a reason Suzanne Collins felt she could tackle a close-third perspective with this character, and I don't believe it's because she wanted to venture into the dark and twisted mind of a psychopath; quite the opposite.

(Am I telling on myself here? Or do we all experience the world within a bubble of subjectivity? Anyways,)

It's pretty easy, in my opinion, to extend empathy to Coryo on an every-day, visceral level. He's fearful about his future, he's afraid of being ostracized by his peers, he's hungry. With the book laying out his thought process in a straightforward and incremental manner (something I think Collins really excels at as a writer), I saw reflected back at me many of the impulses within myself that I'm most ashamed of; parts that are self-consciousness, cowardly, selfish, resentful. Coryo's hyper-vigilance in social settings jumped out to me right away, and was at times comically relatable. His attention at every moment is concerned with how he is being perceived by others and how his actions will be interpreted, which seems to me like a familiar struggle to pretty much anyone who has been a teenager! Or really anyone who has made themselves visible in a social or online space. Coryo has humanitarian impulses, too, but he's calculating, and never acts unless he can justify a behavior as 'correct.' He doesn't want to stand out. The repulsion he feels towards Sejanus, who wears his heart on his sleeve, comes from the projection of that very fear - Why are you rocking the boat?! Don't you know what they'll do to you?? We know what happens to people who are loud and different; they are bullied, they are knocked down and ostracized. And, in Coryo's case, coming from a place of privilege makes that fear even more acute. He doesn't know what it's like to be deemed an outsider, and he doesn't want to find out.

So, Snow is ambitious, yes, but above all he's driven by a desire for safety and stability, for things to return to "normal" (i.e. when his family was rich and powerful), and an intense fear of what will happen if the tenuous stability of the Capitol is breached. And I get it! Last time that happened, he lived under siege and his family lost everything! Stability in some form is something we all need on a base level, but that desire expresses itself in a myriad of ways; some of which are more well-adjusted than others. Being privy to Coryo's thoughts, fears, and gut reactions makes it easy to understand why he makes the choices that he does, even if we recognize them as wrong.

We see in the book many others ways in which his fears lie underneath his worst impulses, even when they are past the point of being relatable. Alongside his fear of social difference/social upheaval comes a fear of pollution (put inversely, an obsession with purity), which feeds into his misogyny and his bigoted attitude towards the districts. He feels shame and disdain at thought that his cousin may have had to resort to sex work to keep them fed. The question of Lucy Gray's previous relationships drives him to jealous madness. When he starts falling for Lucy Gray, his internal justifications reveal a lot; rather than interrogating his preconceived ideas about citizens outside the Capitol, it's easier for him to single her out an an exception, inventing reasons for why she should be considered more Capitol than District. Dr. Gaul is able to stoke and prey upon these insecurities, persuading him that humanity will always be on the brink of collapse and corruption, and the only solution is to exert totalitarian control.

I think what TBOSAS does wonderfully is illustrate that choosing safety and stability can put us at odds with our compassion. That being human on the inside isn't enough to spare us from villainy; we also have to expand outside of ourselves, resisting judgement of others and choosing to protect each other. That choices made out of fear and out of selfishness are what keep the status quo in place and allow evil to perpetuate.

[edwinspaynes]

tell us more about cordelia! something you love, something you wish we knew more about, something you relate to, something you've discerned that we might not have seen yet, why she doesn't seem to know any neurotypicals yet might be neurotypical herself, etc. just cordelia. i think we should talk about her more

Cordelia, Cordelia, Cordelia!

She is my daughter. She delights me. She confounds me.

Despite being one of my favourite characters in TSC, I find everything she does baffling. Every time she is faced with a choice, any choice at all, she does the exact opposite thing than I would have done. For her, she makes the right choices. If I made her choices, though, I'd rip my own hair out. We are SUCH different people.

I actually really like this. A lot of my favourite characters are important to me because of the ways that I find myself mirrored in them. Matthew, Alastair, and Thomas are all great examples. Cordelia serves a different function to me as a window character. Watching her is like a huge character study in someone Very Unlike Me who's extremely complex, likeable, and ultimately lovely.

Matthew and Cordelia

The sole exception to this "Cordelia-and-I-make-different-choices" rule is when she runs off to Paris with Matthew, which I would have done. It would have been a good decision for me but was actually an awful one for her.

I'm going to be a little rambley here, but I want to talk a little bit about her relationship with my Best Blorbo Matthew. I think that she fundamentally misunderstands him, which is interesting for me to watch as someone who's so similar to Matthew. I might dissect the whole scene one day when I have time, but there's this bit where she's rejecting him where he's going on and on about all the places they can travel to. She says, "we can't always be running away." This was so interesting to me!!! Because it was so obvious to me that Matthew wasn't running away. He's planning his dream future full of unknown adventures, and he's trying to fit her in. She's too settled, she wants to be settled, and that's okay! They're just not compatible. But she so greatly misunderstands what he's trying to do, and I kind of turn my head to that scene to go "huh. That's why I don't understand her."

Daisy, My Daughter

There are so many things I love about Cordelia. I absolutely adore her bravery and her compassion, and I think she feels a lot. I think she's strong and independent.

I think that she's capable of being crafty and sneaky when she wants to be (see: the wording of the oath she has Lilith repeat to her in ChoT.) She's my daughter, my ridiculously frustrating daughter, who I know has a brain somewhere in there that she never uses.

I also will say that I really like the drive that she has to be a hero. It's refreshing to see a girl character who actively attempts to realize a goal like that rather than someone who's thrust into a world Chosen-One-Style. Both Clary and Tessa were "Chosen One" type characters, which served their genre well for the time. Cordelia, like Emma, was just an ambitious Shadowhunter, and I find her story very interesting as a result. And I like how Cordelia is in part driven by a desire for merciful, compassionate heroism (unlike Emma, who was driven by a desire for revenge). It sets her apart from all the other Emma-type Badass Warrior Girls who want to go out and kick as much ass as possible.

She's such a delightful person and one I would be proud to call a friend IRL. And she's a great character in a lot of ways, though I think there are some narrative issues holding her back.

Cordelia and Cassandra Clare's Narrative

I feel like Cordelia is the one character that I wish I could steal from Cassie and repurpose. I generally really like what Cassie does with most of her characters, and I like a lot of the things she did with Cordelia. If I didn't, I wouldn't love her so much. But I think that with some VERY MINOR tweaking, Cordelia could have been even better.

The issue with Cordelia is that the author gives her very little agency. The narrative serves to protect her and James as the Herongraystairs kids, and I get that, but it feels like Cordelia is often just dragged along for the ride. Like, she is the main character! Why is she given almost no agency or real choices? Why is she just swept along with the narrative as a pawn in this large chess game that is TLH? I was talking with a close mutual @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer a while back who said it would have been great if Cordelia became Lilith's paladin willingly to try to take power from all the awful men who abuse it. I would have loved this! If Cordelia had been allowed to get just a little bit messy, bend the rules of morality, and make some mistakes, she would have been even more incredible than she is.

The Impact of Lacking Agency

This narrative issue manifests as my least favorite Cordelia character trait: her hyper-naivete. She is so naïve in a way that is almost unbelievable to me as a reader. Like, her response to "dad's an alcoholic who's been abusing me since I was 10" is "huh!!!! That's why I found gin bottles everywhere and he was super clunky and they stopped serving wine! Who'd have guessed?" And, she literally swore fealty to this dude who said he was Wayland the Smith because... he said so? Like ??? Girl!!! Other people, especially your brother, have paid a great price for that naïveté. That bothers me.

The thing that's annoying about this is that I've come to the conclusion that Cassie didn't intend for Cordelia to be so naïve. It was a side effect of giving her no agency. If someone is an adult, that means they necessarily have agency; if someone has agency, they lose moral purity. Ergo, Cordelia was necessarily naïve.

Alastair and Cordelia

I also feel like re: the writing, I find Alastair and Cordelia's dynamic to be simultaneously excellent and irritating. Because he sacrificed his whole life for her! It should not have taken her several months and a murder accusation to marginally stand up for him! I'm sorry!

But I also really love their relationship, especially in ChoT. It makes me so happy to see them joking around together like normal siblings, and I feel like Alastair by Beloved Blorbo gets to kind of... be a normal guy with his little sister, if only a little bit. He doesn't need to act in loco parentis anymore, and they're immediately messing around. I love it.

Again, I wish the relationship were written in a more cohesive way. Maybe it's because I don't have a sibling. But it feels like Cordelia DOES acknowledge that Alastair is the constant lifelong protector that she wants to call out to when she's scared. But she also simultaneously says that he's like quicksand unprompted and tells Matthew that he must think she's terrible to love him.

Cassie, why!?

Cordelia and her Neurodivergent BFFs

This is a funny observation you make, that she "doesn't seem to know any neurotypicals yet might be neurotypical herself." And I agree, actually! I don't really have a lot of thoughts on this besides "that's just who she naturally wound up around because of her familial and life circumstances." What do you think of it? I'm curious to know. <3

[seekingthestars]

i've been fine.

i can talk about The Deer Incident™ and make jokes and laugh and breathe. the place on my knuckles that was scraped raw is almost healed. my brother has been very nice and let me borrow/drive his small truck that he doesn't really drive anymore so that i'd have a method of transportation in case i need it.

but i think today, 11 days after it happened, it's really settled in that my car was totaled, i don't have him, i can't ever drive him again, he's gone.

it really happened and he's really gone and i can't just magic a new car into existence. and it's gonna take longer than i want to get a new one bc the used car market is insane and i don't even know what i WANT and i don't have time to go a million places and test drive things and figure out what i do want, and i honestly need help and someone to go with me so then my available time to go look at things is even more limited bc it depends on when my brother's available and if he has the time to drive all the way here to help

and i don't want to drive my brother's truck. i am very appreciative that i have it, but i don't want to drive it. and both yesterday and today when i was driving it, it did this momentary thing where it wouldn't go over 25mph and would shake, which, even though i got it back to normal both times, is clearly not great and is going to start giving me anxiety every time i try to drive it now bc i don't actually know how to fix it, it's just hope. i don't know this vehicle. i don't know what all the noises mean, i don't know what's normal and what should be worrisome. i knew all of that about my car. i had driven that car for 13 years. i loved my car. i loved my car so much.

and i feel so stupid to be sitting here physically crying bc it's finally somehow hit me that my car is just gone. and i didn't get to say goodbye. it's an inanimate object, that shouldn't matter. but i wish i'd at least done that.

and i'm honestly so stressed and overwhelmed with everything else going on but i just do my best to keep going and hold it together bc of everything going on with my grandma and how my parents need my help taking care of things bc of that but i don't want to be strong anymore, i just want to breakdown for a minute, i'm so tired of trying to keep it together all the time

today hasn't been a particularly good brain day. i've just been sad most of it. had to force myself to run errands and i didn't even enjoy that, i just had things i'd promised my mom i'd do for her and things i needed to do before tomorrow and i knew i had to so i did, but it has not been a good brain day. and now i'm crying.

and dammit i just really miss my car