#(I really agonized over my vote here)

[pilferingapples]

Ooh let's ask some French Romantic Medievalist art!

[ID: Frontispiece of Notre-Dame de Paris, by Celestine Nanteuil. Several scenes and characters are displayed in the frame of the building. /End ID]

[ID: scene of Gringoire in the Court of Miracles from NDdP , painted by Celestine Nanteuil. The scene is very chaotic, with a lot of characters , using mostly light/dark contrast to bring attention to the main figures./end ID]

[ID: frontispiece for Hugo's Lucrece Borgia, by Nanteuil again, depicting the three main characters in their "medieval" costumes. /end ID ]

[ID: costumes from Hugo's Hernani and Lucrecia Borgia ]

[ID: another Nanteuil illo of Lucrecia Borgia, showing three men in medievalist dress/end ID]

[ID: Boulanger painting of a crowded scene from Lucrecia Borgia /ID]

...hmmm

Is Jehan a Medieval art or a “medieval art” type of guy?

[qqueenofhades]

Leaving aside possible reversals, disasters, doom & gloom, can we take a moment to savor the Trump meltdown over Harris/Walz and the momentum that makes a possible blue tsunami seem an entirely plausible outcome? I'd love to give you the space to ramble about it if you'd like, as my current fandom at least for the moment has shifted back to US politics (but not, for the first time in a while, to doom scrolling politics!).

Aha, I feel as I have probably already said most of my current thoughts, but here are a few things that really make me desire a heaping helping of butt-whooping blue wave in November:

The state that has had the most volunteer sign-ups since Harris took over the ticket? Fucking Florida, with over 18,000. The Villages, formerly a hotbed of Trump support (and y'know, probably still is), also had a major pro-Kamala event, and she is allegedly up 15 points in Miami-Dade (after Biden won the county by 7% and lost the state only by 3%). Now, we all know that Obama won Florida twice, but it has become such a symbol of retrograde Trumpian/DeSantisian politics that winning there would be literally seismic. I'm not going so far as saying that it's in PLAY play, but let's just hold onto that happy, happy idea.

Likewise the poll I mentioned the other day, where Trump is struggling to break 50% in Ohio, once a swing state and now also reliably red. The fact that this is Vance's home state and he's dragging the ticket down every single time he opens his mouth, thus offering the smallest sliver of hope that Ohio (which DID legalize abortion and weed by major margins last year) could also go blue? Incredible. Amazing. Showstopping.

Harris is also tied with Trump (46%-46%) in North Carolina and there is a lot of chatter about how the terrible GOP governor candidate could give a boost to Democratic turnout statewide.

The Mormons have apparently announced their intention to abandon (or at least support much less than they usually do) the Republican presidential ticket in 2024. Remember when Obama won Indiana in 2008? In my wildest dreams, I imagine Utah going blue in 2024. It won't but shh.

Basically, where we were braced for another agonizing nail-biting grind-it-out three-day election determined by a few thousand votes in key states (because etc etc the Electoral College sucks) we are now looking at the very real possibility that Harris wins at least one state, and possibly more, that Biden didn't, and which have been seen as out of reach for Democrats since Trump came on the scene. I don't think I need to counsel anyone against complacency, because we're all too damn scared for that, but yeah. Polls, even the good-looking ones that we like, don't vote. They are still skewed and subjective and do not represent the actual reality, whatever that may end up being. The Republicans and the media will be trying their absolute goddamnfuckingest to ratfuck us again in the 80-something days that remain, but:

WE CAN DO THIS, WE WILL DO THIS, WE MUST DO THIS.

WHAT IS THIS.... JOY SCROLLING? FOR AMERICAN POLITICS? IN THE YEAR 2024 WITH DONALD TRUMP ON THE TICKET FOR THE FUCKING THIRD TIME?

UNPOSSIBLE.

[colorisbyshe]

How can you justify voting in this election?

Quite easily.

I do not vote while worrying about myself. By that I mean, I'm not voting to ensure I'm a good person. I am not that self centered. If this election is a stain on my soul, so fucking be it. It's not about me. If I'm a lesser person for what I have done to survive, the same way we're all lesser people for not doing EVERY SINGLE THING WE CAN EVERY SINGLE DAY to help other people, so be it.

I see this election as a form of survival. I am voting to keep as many people alive as possible. You when you're on a plane and they say put on your mask before you put on your child's or anyone else that can't? Same energy. More people survive when more people can put on their masks. Mutual aid, direct action, civil disobedience, things more extreme can all be easier and more effective with the right electorate.

I don't see voting as a cure all. I think of voting as a small, small step in a much larger plan. Voting is... a day, max. Voting is a couple hours of research into ALL of the candidates and measures on the ballot (spread out over an entire election cycle) and, depending on where you are, either a couple minutes or a couple hours in line. It could be a couple minutes filling in and dropping off a ballot. It does not get in the way of spending the rest of the year/term doing more directly impactful things.

Actual activists, who are on the streets and have dedicated their lives to good work, have encouraged people to vote. No one posts about it here but like... actual activists have been saying "It's horrible that these are our choices and yet we still must choose." Like... I don't really presume to know better than the people who have actually gone up to Kamala and begged her to change her ways.

Voter suppression, gerrymandering, and other forms of violence and disenfranchisement against potential voters are all proof that voting does matter, even when it doesn't feel like it.

I recognize "not enough of a difference between candidates" isn't the same as "no difference." The difference is thousands upon thousands of lives, tbh. But, if nothing else, you should be concerned about the fate of the supreme court right now.

Voting is not about what feels good. It's about what keeps things from getting even worse. That's it.

The conversation, the election, is going to happen whether or not your voice is involved. Why would you concede your spot on the table to someone you view as less moral than yourself? Why would you let someone else speak up over you while you stay mum?

And, again, voting today or any other day does not take any meaningful time or effort away from doing more impactful work. There's literally nothing to lose by voting today besides your self-obsessed sense of integrity.

Integrity doesn't' save lives, doesn't feed people, don't affect the supreme court, doesn't impact debt or the healthcare system. It's not going with these people to the grave or to the hospital or to school. Integrity isn't going to keep climate change at bay.

I'm also too cognizant of actual reality and not tumblr world to think a Trump presidency would be identical to a Kamala presidency. Like... I'm sorry, I do think Kamala is a terrible choice, I do think Biden has been a terrible president, and yet I do know it can be worse.

Most people I voted for aren't as different as they should be from their competitors. That weighs heavily on me. It agonizes me that we do not have good choices.

But we (speaking broadly, obviously I have noted some people ARE disenfranchised) still do have choices and there are still differences. And those differences include whether or not some people eat, whether some people get medical treatment, whether or not some people die.

Who the fuck am I to say let them die so I can feel good about myself and say I "taught the democrats a lesson" by not voting them (which is not a thing that has EVER worked, btw, democrats do not learn from you trying to rub their nose on the mess they made)

I'm not interested in feeling good about myself at anyone else's expense.

If you can't do it, no judgment. I do recognize how horrific this entire situation is. I'm just not built like that. Like if you really, really can't do it, so be it. If Kamala loses, it's her fault for being so fucking awful.

But... idk man. If even one additional person lives under her that would've died under Trump, I can't turn away from them. Personally.

[abalidoth]

whats your fav album/albums??

Like anyone else who was sentient and within earshot of a radio in 2012, I was aware of Call Me Maybe. It was inescapable, virulently catchy, an icepick of bubblegum straight to the tympaneum. As mocked as it was beloved, as society is unable to tolerate anything feminine.

I don't strongly remember my feelings about it at the time. I was probably self-aware enough at that point to not explicitly shit on it -- that was right around when I was making my first tentative steps towards not identifying as a guy. But my musical taste at the time skewed more towards They Might Be Giants and Imogen Heap so it wouldn't have been anything I sought out.

Flash forward to the summer of 2015. I'm in a bar in Ames, Iowa with a bunch of other mathematicians, there for the Graduate Research Workshop in Combinatorics. After a hard day of bootstrap percolation and RNA folding and graph discharging, we descended on this little college bar's trivia night like a swarm of LaTeX-using locusts. Combinatorists tend to be eclectic sorts, so trivia comes naturally to us, and I'm no exception; our four mathematician teams took the top four spots that night, and my team was first among those. There are a few other stories that came out of that night, but the relevant one is that I heard a little song over the speakers called I Really Like You.

Like Call Me Maybe, IRLY was uncompromisingly girly. But I was at a stage in my life where that was a balm to my aching soul. I had been slowly growing in my femininity month by agonizing month, living in the freezing wastes of Laramie, Wyoming. I wore skirts around the house, went by ze/hir pronouns online, but nobody in person knew. Every Friday afternoon my wife would paint my nails, and every Sunday evening I'd scrub the authenticity out of myself with acetone and a cotton ball. So the femininity of the song was appealing to me.

So, too, was the lyrical content. It was self-awarely about a liminal state in relationships, that hazy limerence where actual commitment isn't in the cards, but the feelings are strong, so why don't we ride them while we can? It's not that it hasn't been done before, but Carly Rae did it well. I added the song to the mp3 app on my phone and didn't think much more of it.

Cut to the summer of 2016. Brexit had just happened, I had just found out my dad was planning to vote for Trump. The sun over the Rockies was bright, but the world was feeling small and hostile. We were spending the week with my parents and some family in a mountain town in Colorado. Emma and I aren't the hiking sort, so when the rest of the folks went out in the wilderness, we decided to explore some of the little towns in the area. In one of those towns was a record store, and in that record store was a CD copy of E-MO-TION.

I recognized it as the album that had that song I liked from last summer. We listened to it in the car on the way back up to Laramie, and I liked it a lot. Now, we usually listened to music on the old iPod that was connected to our aux cable, rather than the CD drive. So that CD just kinda stayed there in the car.

November rolled around. Trump won the election. My dysphoria and my fear and my seasonal depression blended into a eutectic misery, greater than the sum of its parts, a suffocating miasma of soul-deep pain, that I had to keep off my face for the sake of my students.

I started listening to that CD in the car more and more. I memorized the track numbers, I knew exactly what stretches of songs were best for which emotions. That album became a lifeline for me. When I was driving an icy road in the dark on three hours of sleep, stressing about my lack of progress on my dissertation, and the intrusive thoughts came in that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if the car spun out on the black ice?

I'd put on Making the Most of the Night. Carly Rae knew I was having a rough time, and here she was to hijack me, hijack me.

[princesseevee06]

hi eevee!! the recent news on ytr Shins execution has me Devastated. (esp bc Kannas death is my favorite and im very normal about greenblings LMAOO) but that got me thinking about the other executions in ytr! if you'd like to, what are some of the other executions/deaths?? don't gotta reveal all of em yet, just wanted to ask haha :) take care!

HI BREAD i am so sorry about the shin execution thing. i saw the opportunity to do the funniest (most agonizing) thing ever and i had to.

the thing that really gets me about it is like. in ytr shin never gets his collar off at that last moment, he has no chance of really escaping, but he’s still trying to run WHILE HIS BODY IS BEING ROOTED TO THE GROUND and he still manages to even set up the sara ai. he still doesnt accept his fate right up until the very end. And That Makes Me So Sad

buuuuut you probably wanna hear about some of the other devastating deaths! which i am also happy to provide deets on ^^

(WARNING: LONG LONG POST BELOW i am so sorry)

ok im gonna be honest i havent focused super hard on the deaths themselves because it’s always more interesting to me to focus on the aftermath i think…but there are some ive thought about more than others so i’ll go over those!

• nao

this one is Hectic. I wanted it to be kind of a mix of mishima’s death and nao’s canon death, so her collar device is sort of like…magnetic? basically, it pulls her to the wall and starts crushing her neck. i feel like this adds a greater sense of panic to the scene, because unlike mishima’s collar which they can’t touch when it burns, in ytr both kugie and mishima are trying to help nao :,) (spoiler alert they cannot)

• sara

oh this one makes me So sad….it’s fundamentally the same premise as joe’s execution with the wrigglers, but the difference is that ryoko is actually fast enough with the clicker to get them off (it’s always so funny to me that one of the canon things we know about ryoko is she’s good at arcade games. so i imagine she has fast fingers 💀). but at that point it’s already too late because sara has lost too much blood, so she just ends up bleeding out in ryoko’s arms instead. fun fact: because of that, ryoko’s hallucination of sara always comes out of the ground in a pool of blood :,)

• sei

ok i haven’t SUPER worked out the specifics of this one but i do know the general vibes for it so i’m putting it anyways. basically, when sei gets voted for, much like what happened in the assassin game in canon they ask kai to kill them. because they don’t want to be alone as they die and also it’d be a big middle finger to asunaro. kai has the kitchen knife. he could do it. but he literally just can’t bring himself to. if it was himself he could do it, but he can’t bring himself to hurt sei. so instead he just has to watch them die without doing a thing and it ends up haunting him. (i have this vivid image of kai literally having to be dragged away from sei’s corpse :((((((((( )

• sou

ok here’s the big one. sou is my fave bleeby blorbo so you KNOW i’ve put a shit-ton of thought into this one. the funniest thing about this to me is that. sou put his collar on himself at the beginning of the death game. and so when hayasaka is like “sorry :( we’ll have to execute you” sou is like “nuh uh” and literally just takes it back off. THERE IS JUST THIS MOMENT OF. AWKWARD SILENCE ACROSS THE ENTIRE ROOM. hayasaka is like “holy shit what do i do now” but he doesn’t have to do any work because sou ends up dooming himself 👍

he figures. okay well i have to do something quick or people from the upper floors are actually gonna come start trying to kill me. unlike shin, he doesn’t really have any intention of ‘escaping,’ at least not in a direct manner, but what he does try to do is get to the fifth floor where his lab is to see if he can deactivate the collars. because essentially, that’ll take the target off his back at least temporarily— what’s one guy running around without a collar to SEVEN people running around without a collar? asunaro cant execute everyone if they want the death game to continue, right? he knows the facility, so he’s actually able to dodge/avoid the ‘weapons’ really well. atp the other participants are running after him watching him bolt across the third floor and straight up rooting for him. he gets really close to the winner’s stairs (and if he can get there, he’s home free because they connect to all the other floors) and because of that he gets a little tooooooo cocky.

if he can actually accomplish what he’s trying to do, asunaro could literally fall apart from the inside out. if they don’t have control over the participants w/ the collars, the main cast could quite literally stage a mini uprising. sou could finally have the chance to be free from asunaro, to be free from his mother, to live his life how *he* wants to— he’s so close.

so anyways, sou looks back at shin. because of course he does.

and what is he rewarded with? impalement! ^_^ no seriously, at the last moment he steps on a trap that impales him. YES i wanted to harken back to the fake death alice caused in actual yttd. so yeah he uh. does not make it out of that one alive. sorry sou!

(i could talk about how this firmly cements in shin that his mindset of the strong persevering over the weak is correct, because he was the one to pass the role of ‘shin tsukimi’ over to sou, to pass the role of being ‘weak’ to him, and in sou’s last moments that weakness (in this case, caring too deeply for shin) ends up being his undoing. but we’ll save that for another day!)

• mishima

so mishima’s is actually relatively the same as q-taro’s canon death, because tbh i couldn’t figure out a way to make it any different without completely screwing up the banquet. sorry mimimishima :((

the thing that really gets me about this one is the REVEAL though. atp kugie and mishima have built up a strong relationship throughout the death game, and so the fact that mishima’s sacrifice essentially ends up saving kugie’s life is weirdly poetic to me. it is NOT poetic to kugie though. she is so upset that people keep sacrificing themselves for her sake (since yknow. she experienced this first with kanna) when she’s been trying to protect others this whole time. it’s just. agh. really sad.

i haven’t really thought as much about maple’s hinako’s and ranmaru’s sorry,,,, again i thought more of the surrounding circumstances for those ones (other people’s reactions to their deaths so. yknow yknow) but i’ll try to think more on em in the meantime!

I am SO sorry for this post it was SUPER long and SUPER sad. like *I* am sad now and I’m the one who decided what happens. Sorry bread 😭

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I’ve been busy today.

I moved not one but two bookcases, requiring two trips with the pickup. One bookcase was so dang heavy I wasn’t sure I’d manage. When I got there I discovered that I had scratched the wood pretty seriously, AND that the part that had been in the “wet” corner of my bedroom** has a wee bit of mold to deal with.

Then I ran out of gas with the pickup. I was afraid of this. Since I have to pay a bill for $100 this coming week and buy another $100 worth of medicine for the dogs, I can’t buy gas for it. The pickup will now have to stay parked until next month, when (fingers crossed) I can at least afford a 1/4 tank worth. I mean, I have $5 right now, so….

I went to vote. I always vote. I have to. It’s my duty, even when it feels like screaming in a tornado. I hate it.

Now you are going to say “Why didn’t you early vote or do mail in?” Well, the early voting place is 10 miles away and not near where .i do my errands every two weeks. I’d have to burn extra gas. And as for mail in, well now that my state does photo ID you need to send a copy of it when you vote. My printer is broken, and the only way I can print anything is to beg folks to be kind and let me use their printer. I hate over begging.

Speaking of photo IDs…ugh!. Besides the obvious reasons to hate it for making voting harder, I hate it for more petty reasons. My driver’s license photo actually made me cry when I saw it the first time. I keep it in my wallet backwards so I don’t have to see it. And it’s just one more damn step, particularly in a rural place where when I walk in people say “Hi Stephanie”.

Not that I am keen on the “Hi Stephanie” thing. People ask me questions I hate answering. They do ask about Mom, of course, which is always nice when I can tell her someone asked about her, but I wince as any question about me. There is no question that can’t remind me what a disaster my life is. The thing is, they probably don’t really care and are asking because it’s a “thing you do”. I agonize, start to answer, and if I go one sentence too long they don’t exactly hide their disinterest. And then that hurts too.

At least here there are no lines at all. There were four workers and three of us voting.

Man, voting in local races sucks in rural place like this! You know that your vote matters a hell of a lot in a race like county commissioner, but where can you get the info of the candidates? Maybe if I could afford to subscribe to a local paper, but I can’t. And most these candidates don’t even have a damn Facebook page! The ones with no track record as incumbents to Google up, are the worst. The only one that had social media that I could find was involved in a nasty tiff with someone hassling them in bad faith, which, I mean, seeing how they deal with a troll is informative, but WTF about issues?

Anyway, I kept up my “be responsible” track record and voted. And Woo-Hoo! They are giving stickers again! I can finally go back to sticking them in my journal!

Yeah, getting excited by an unimaginatively designed “I voted” sticker is silly and childish, but what the hell. Got take pleasure in dumb things, because pleasure is hard to come by and most things are dumb!!

Now to get back to those bookshelves….

**Next to the leak from the pipe coming out of the well that I STILL can’t get fixed!

[erdasmcnonsense]

I would like to thank the team behind @mcytblrsexymen for getting me to actually practice digital art for once

See, the thing is, I'm a horrible perfectionist. And I get really hung up on needing to make a thing Perfect on the first try. I have digital drawing tools but I hardly ever draw digitally because I'm not very good at it, and when I do digital art, it's usually more complex and elaborate pieces I end up agonizing over for ages. So I end up never really getting any practice at it because I know the result won't be as good as I'd like

Except this event. Here, I have time constraints. And here, I know my usual fairly delicate style I do on paper won't do; the art best fit for this event is colorful and attention-grabbing. And it's just a very good excuse to get out my digital drawing stuff and out on some music and spend a couple of hours drawing the funny block people I'm rooting for. Because I know I gotta get it done before a round of voting is over, or else what's the point? And for once, despite working digitally, I can just go for relatively simple compositions of one character in some pose, and a simple background, I'm not working on anything that absolutely requires a complex suåer detailed composition

Which means, for the first time in ages, I'm actually drawing. I'm actually getting something done, and even if it's not as good as I'd like, at least it's familiarizing me with the digital tools more. At least at the end of the day, I have done something, rather than just sat around agonizing about how to do it

So, just, thank you guys, for providing me an excuse to actually draw for once <3

[emperorhyperi0n]

Details:

RWBY FNAF AU

It's the characters or RWBY, but it's the basic presence of FNAF (night guards, spooky and shady shit happening at an entertainment venue, robots) and uh. A lot of other stuff. Expect chaos.

Featuring: Schneeamatronics, Bootleg Disney, The Orb™, and a very, very angry Ozpin.

RWBY but it's Bullet Train (2022)

It's the fun idea of "everyone meets pre-Beacon", but with the added spice of a train! And everyone on the train (mostly) is trying to kill each other. Shenanigans ensue.

Featuring: an incredibly unlucky Jaune, an incredibly tired Blake, a Train (duh), and a bird.

Here To Stay Chapter 2

Many moons (about five months) ago I made a slightly cringe fanfic about Roman and Neo waking up from a 'nightmare' of the events of the S3 Finale of RWBY. You can probably find it on AO3 after scrolling through the Roman/Neo tag a bit, but I've been agonizing over making a second chapter to this.

Featuring: criminal amounts of Fluff, mild arson, a nervous man in an ill-fitting suit, and waffles.

Fortnite C1S5

One day I woke up and decided to read about Fortnite Lore for some reason... and then the ideas floated in. It's pretty much a full "novelization" of all the events, map changes, and especially loading screens of the Season wrapped into a single cohesive story. Kinda surprised nobody's done a project this yet.

Featuring: Connections, confused foxes, DriftBomber hijinks, angry Vikings, and even angrier Enforcers.

OC Stuff

Pretty much just me publishing things about my own cringe universe that's been marinating in my brain. Not really connected to any fandoms tbh.

Featuring: Lore™, a duo of Doctors, the bootleg SCP Foundation, a sentient pocket-watch girl, absurd apartment costs, and a chill bird.

[oonajaeadira]

Add another digit space, or, how have we come to this?

I can’t believe this. I really really can’t. I remember when there was 20 notes sitting on my first chapter of LMR and I was over the effing moon about it. I was really just happy that 20 other people wanted to read something I wrote. Now there are how many friends here?

Plz. I love you.

Thank you for supporting my work and wildness.

So if you’ve been here for a bit, you know I tend to take my time on some pieces and others just fall right out. I’m not great at requests because I think and agonize too much, but a Writer Wednesday prompt could come along and just rock my world for an evening.

And I have a lot of series going on, a lot of characters that have my whole heart (how does that work? multiple hearts? I’m a damn Time Lord now) and I desperately wish for time to work on them.

So. I hope you’ll forgive me that I won’t be writing anything new-new for this celebration, it is very hard for me to keep up. (Fun fact: I literally posted my 900 follower celebration the day 900 happened, we went through the week of voting and another week or so of writing and I posted the fic the day I hit 1000. So...yes. Keeping up is hard for me.)

In lieu of this, I thought I might instead post some details on my writing schedule and give some insider thoughts on some of the upcoming pieces. If you’re here for a specific character or series, hopefully this will let you know where I’m at! <3 (And of course if you’re curious, you can always ask.)

Thank you all again so much. I love love love writing here and reading and sharing art. You’re a beautiful community and this year has been so effing amazing.

ADIRA’S PIPELINE AND THOUGHTS ON UPCOMING PROJECTS BELOW THE CUT

ADIRA’S UPCOMING POSTS

Dropping tomorrow, Sunday, December 19

PATS (GTTT)  - Sleeping Past the Timer After an Emotional Week Another ask answered. Wait. Scratch that. Another 8 asks answered in one! I got a couple of repeat questions and some of them fit so well together with the one I was answering and the path I’m on with PATS, that I decided to combine and clean up my inbox a little. The main questions that are answered in this ask are:

How would he react if she missed appointments?

What if reader has a super emotional day?

What if PATS lets her sleep past the timer?

How would he react to her injuring herself doing something like moving boxes?

How would he react to her thoughts of possibly moving away?

What is that one thing he might take tips for?

I’m not sure how y’all will take this one, but our story continues to progress. A longer answer at 1K+, it’s mostly from PATS’s POV again (with one tiny section from reader’s) and what I can say is that our boy is moving from passive denial into active denial.

This is all setting up for the next larger fic installment. More on that below.

.

Next, I’m about 1K into

EZRA - A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop: Chapter 8 This is the final chapter of Bookshop. BUT, please note that Ezra and Tinker’s story continues. I’ve already started A Girl Lives In a Bookshop, which won’t be a multi-chapter as much as just a collection of one-shots past the initial storyline. I’ve already written one of those, and you can find that on the Bookshop masterlist where all of them will continue to live.

I apologize for the long wait between Chapter 7 / Interlude and Chapter 8. And if you’re wondering if you need to go back and re-read to get back into the momentum, no worries. This chapter actually has a time jump and takes place a little while after Tinker entered Ezra’s bedroom.

This chapter makes me so so so happy. I’m giving everyone something special; Tinker gets a beautiful surprise, Ezra gets something he wants, Cee’s getting a good future, heck. Even Kinkaid is getting something nice because I love him. There’s a new character coming, a formal event, a new room reveal at The Queen’s Lair, and love love love in spades. This fic family is about to be locked in for good.

.

Then. 

PATS (GTTT) - Good. Things. Take. Time. 2: One Bed.

Yup.

When I was watching y’all vote on my 900 follower fic choices, I knew I was going to do a one-bed fic. For a while, PATS was winning and I kind of freaked out. How in hell do I do a one bed with a character who’s ALL bed? The answer came to me like angels singing in my skull which was terrifying as well as glorious. It put a flag in the ground of where the story was heading next and every answered ask since then has been specifically chosen to help lead us into this fic. There’s a reason you’ve gotten a peek into his POV and why you’ve learned something about his feelings about sleep-sleeping in the same bed. Because shit is coming.

I’ve also gotten more than one ask wondering what happens when reader encounters PATS outside of his house.

You’re about to find out.

.

Next.

Thief x Locksmith 6 This will be the final chapter in the TxL series. I can’t promise a thrilling conclusion to the conundrum with the demon, but what I can promise is more information. The whole series started with a little fic that wasn’t meant to be expanded on. The Thief and the Locksmith cared about each other, but there was history and that was that. Since then, I’ve been uncovering their history a little here and there as the main story developed. In the final chapter I plan on getting to the finale of the current story while also stretching to the other end and detailing the origins of their relationship, thereby filling in all the gaps in this outward ooze of a fic.

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IN BETWEEN ALL OF THIS

Throughout and after these, It’s pretty much a guarantee that I’ll get yanked to the side on a few things.

PATS Asks My inbox is full of questions. I’m answering many of them with the next ask and as many as 10 more with the next fic installment. But there’s still plenty of things to explore to get us to the next level, because, yes, a third fic installment is already rolling around my brains. These two have a TRAJECTORY.

JAVI G AND GIRL SUNDAY Oh, I love them. And I’m pretty certain that as we get new trailer footage and Writer Wednesday prompts keep rolling around I’m going to tell you about the next goofy and endearing piece of bullshit Javi gets up to.

EZRA AND TINKER - A Girl Lives In a Bookshop Again, WW prompts may pull my heart into a place. I’ll also be open to taking asks about them. I know some of y’all love them and might want to know more and I’m too comfortable in the Bookshop to just walk away.

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OTHER SERIES I’M RETURNING TO SOON

DIN DJARIN - Losing My Religion: Chapter 13 I’ve been wanting to get back to my beskar boyfriend for a while now and left LMR on a bit of a cliffhanger. I’m pretty certain BoBF is going to come and kickstart my heart on the Star Wars front again (which is why I’m trying to wrap up a lot of other characters and arcs before coming back to concentrate on Din).

Chapter 13 is still set on Tatooine. We’re going to find out who is tracking them, and it has a lot to do with that new weapon he’s got hanging on his belt. Din and LB are going to have a new foundling in tow, and at least three familiar faces are going to come into play for the first time here. Maybe more. BECAUSE WHY NOT PLAY WITH ALL THE TOYS ON TATOOINE.

Will it be canon divergent from here on out? Probably. I’ve been very nervous about that. Trying to come to terms with it. It’s a process. This was my first fic, the one that started all this madness and I’ve learned a lot about how to love and how to let go. I’m hoping that will carry me through.

Much of what happens in this chapter will set the stage for the rest of the series, so I’m taking my time making some tough decisions. I’m not sure how many more chapters are left in the set, but have a feeling we’re over halfway through at this point. There is a natural ending set in the sand, but there may be some meandering along the way…

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PERO TOVAR - Branded: Chapter 3 All I can say right now is that Nonna’s prophecies are sound. This series will most likely be shorter than longer—I’d be very surprised if we get into double digits of chapters. But it will be slow coming. I am in love with the series, but it takes a lot out of me to write a chapter of it—lots of thinking ahead and push and pull of hearts and fates to coordinate—so it’s definitely something I wait to come to until the chapter is fully realized in my brain and I am burning for it. But. When it comes to Pero, that rarely takes long.

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WIP SERIES JUST WAITING FOR SOME CLEAR SPACE AND MORE TIME

MAX PHILLIPS - Interviews with a Victim Yeah, I started a Max thing. I have too many irons in the fire at the moment to give him too much attention. I’ve been enjoying reading Max so much. But I have questions about him, and things I haven’t seen show up in fic about him yet. So I wanted to explore a few things and set up a series that could be easily written in tiny bites. Sorry to be vague. That’s on purpose. Because surprises.

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EZRA - Salem AU series While I was in Salem I was inspired to write a centuries-spanning soulmates series. I have it loosely outlined. We’ll see if it comes to pass….

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PERO TOVAR - AU I’m not ready to delve too fully into the details of this one, especially since I have a Pero series ongoing. But. This would be a re-working of something I’ve only jotted notes on from long before I started writing here. It’s a simple romance series set in the 1800s and it may be the place where I turn if I’m missing the sweet falling-in-love feelings I got from writing Bookshop. That’s why I’m listing it here. If folks like that kind of soft, one that evokes a simpler life and wind in the grass, I have something in my bag that could satisfy that itch.

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That’s it for now. Thank y’all so much for being here and enjoying what I’m laying down. <3

[dutchforstrangers]

A post with the moments Taichi and Sora were soft for/to/with each other in DA:2020 + Agumon and Piyomon being their mirrors

DIGIMON ADVENTURE:2020 SPOILERS!!!!

Hi and welcome to my 'Vote Taiora soulmates 2k21' series. This post is basically part 3 of that. I'm a mess, I know...

Part 1: Taiora being starstruck babies | Part 2: The platonic!Taiora connection in Kizuna

PERSONAL NOTE: Once again me here saying that yes this is Taiora and no that doesn't mean I'm trying to sell romantic!Taiora like it's some kind of truth. I just highly believe they are soulmates and soulmates don't have to be romantic AT ALL. Even better, your soulmate can be your platonic best friend while you're in a romantic relationship with someone completely else. Just saying.

And yes, I am a Taiora shipper and I do see and adore the romantic potential of these two. But that doesn't mean everyone has to see it. Platonic!Taiora is beautiful and precious and that's something I vouch for!

There has been floating so much negativity on the internet regarding the Digimon Adventure reboot and even though I'm not loving it either, there are some things I enjoy. I already once pointed out I really like the soundtrack, hell, I even made this little choreography on the theme song for @digiweek 2021 day 3 (prompt music). But that aside, in this post I want to spread some love for the Taiora portrayal in the series, because let's face it, they are super soft (and pretty much ride or die) for each other!

I could ramble and talk about things... OR I could just bomb you guys with the screencaps I gathered! I mean, those reboot 2020 kids don't talk and bicker as much as their original 1999 counterparts do, so why should I?

And you know what 2020!Taichi and 2020!Sora are really good at? Having the same (s o f t) facial expressions to each other, radiating the same energy, touching and physically supporting each other because they are soulmates~. See it for yourself :D

It starts with Taichi looking at his bestie Sora to check if she's safe on the DIY raft while listening to the sweet conversation about fighting together she just had with her newfound Digimon partner in episode 4.

Look at that proud bestie grin. Such a cutie.

Then fast forward to how they are supportingly touchy together..! Two times, in episode 32 and 36. I mean, what's up with that??! Go hug each other already like true childhood bffs do nowadays.

I sense proud mom and dad vibes, what about you? (Also note Piyomon and Agumon in the left one, such cuties <3)

Next up, in episode 37, is Sora being SUPER ride or die for Taichi literally jumping into the water true superhero style to safe the day.! And safe Taichi and Agumon from their stupidity (which is like super low key stupidity compared to OG!Taichi)

This is my personal favorite, episode 40, Sora talking all fast and excited about the passion they share, football/soccer (<- this depends on where you live, I prefer to say football because you play that ball with your damn foot!!!), and how she just LOVES playing it with HIM.

And Taichi is all like "Hell yeah girl, of course I can tell! Preach"

Then in the same episode we find these two pearls (among many other pearls, just go watch that episode yourself already)! Sora looking all soft and concerningly happy to have found her berry-fied bestie. And Sora being glinstering-eyes-happy (like, is she crying??) to see that said bestie back to his human self again!

Okay. There is episode 50, the one with the music I liked and where Taichi resurrects/just resurrected for the big fight and the kiddos trapped in the black ball in the mouth of Milleniummon all scream his name for Taichi to resurrect ONCE AGAIN talking about suffering from portagonist-trope-disease huh?. There are three people Taichi hears screaming his name seperated from the rest and it's rival lover Yamato, baby sis Hikari and CHILDHOOD BESTIE SORA. And let me tell you, when I'd heard her screaming his name in the agonizing way she did, yes, I would have resurrected too if I were Taichi.

Then we of course have that whole Hououmon 'safety first' episode 52. See me ranting and screaming about it in my 'part 1' of this series.

And THEN it's time for the most recent episode, episode 62, where Taichi and Sora reunite and Sora gives Taichi THIS SOFT FACE after she says "The Chosen Ones aren't just here to fight, you know?"

Sora, my baby!!! You can drag me away now, I'm done with this big ride or die softie <333

And you know what's the best part? After the fight with Shakkoumon, which isn't really a fight with Sora following her own words and instead of fighting the Mon talking herself into the heart of the Mon, Taichi REPEATS Sora's words by saying "The role of the Chosen Ones isn't just to fight, huh..." followed by Taichi giving Sora HIS SOFT FACE!!

I'mma repeat myself, but find yourself a guy that looks at you the way Taichi looks at Sora. SO SOFT. OH MY GOD, TAICHI MARRY ME PLEASE. (No please don't, that's weird x'D) I swear, they even tilt their head in the same freaking angle!! This could be cheap animation suffering from 'same face syndrom', but I like to believe that Taichi has watched her, seen the expression she gave him and literally M I R R O R E D I T. This was the whole episode for me, best thing ever.

Also, in that same episode we see THIS:

Even their digimon partners are super ride or die for each other..!! If I had to ship digimon with each other, it would definitely be Agumon and Piyomon (and Gomamon, I'll get to that in a bit). And yes, I know it's a big stretch to let Garudamon, a perfect level digimon, intercept the freaking attack from Wargreymon, an ultimate level digimon, that destroyed Milleniummon 12 episodes ago... It's a bit unbelievable, BUT a) Garudmon is a freaking badass, b) THAT'S WHAT BESTIES DO! And the fact Sora is pretty much ride or die for Taichi, means Piyomon/Garudamon is pretty much ride or die for Agumon/Wargreymon too, no matter the evolution level.

Also, let me point out this little scene under water in episode 35 where Piyomon teases Agumon. Really, I think that's so cute and vouches for the friendship they mirror from the friendship their human partners have!

Actually, isn't it funny that the humans in the reboot hardly tease each other and bicker compared to the original cast and it's the digimon who took over the teasing?

Last but not least, there's one picture left, the end of episode 43. Piyomon and Agumon asleep leaning into each other for support (and Gomamon being cute joining this weird-ass digimon-OT3 I just love!) while on the very right of the frame we see Taichi and Sora laughing/talking together in a super cute way, probably talking about their profound friendship and how they will be football buddies and besties for life :') Also important: they are the only humans in this scene (and then I'm talking about the others not present in this frame too) that are 'seperated' from and not focusing on their digimon, instead they are focusing on each other.

So there you have it. Okay, there might be more moments, but hey, I only get 10 pics per post. If you still don't believe in these two being soulmates in some kind of way... I have no idea how to convince you otherwise.

[oikawaplssteponme]

PART 10 | previously: part 9 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, ✨SPICY CONTENT✨ (16+ is probably best) (reminder that characters are aged up)

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi hi!! ahhh the moment we’ve all been waiting for (or i have been at least☺️) this part is pretty long oops but honestly worth it ahah✨ thank you again for all the love on this, it means a lot 💕 enjoy xx

•

ten: say it

The day had come. It was the night before Prom. These agonizing months of planning would soon be over. All your hard work would be on display for your entire grade to see. But what seemed to be stressing you out the most was that you and Bakugou wouldn’t have an excuse to spend time together, or even talk. Odds were that the second the dance is over, you and Bakugou would go back to enemies, or worse, strangers. That thought didn’t sit well with you. After all, you now had such strong feelings for Bakugou. The last thing you wanted was for him to ignore you. Though you felt that was what probably would happen.

“Aren’t you all just so excited for tomorrow?” squealed Mina.

“Not like you haven't asked us the same question a hundred times,” groaned Denki. Mina huffed.

“Well excuse me for being excited for our first Prom.”

“And last gladly,” you added. Your friends looked at you.

“Damn Y/N you could at least pretend to be excited,” joked Kirishima. You laughed nervously.

“Ah sorry. I’ve never been one to like dances,” you admitted.

“Come on, everyone likes dances,” insisted Uraraka. You shook your head.

“I don’t. They are too loud, too crowded, too many idiots who think they can dance when they really can’t.”

“I don’t think anything could be much louder than your quirk Y/N,” laughed Sero. You playfully hit his arm.

“Whatever. Well if you dumb dumbs want a good Prom tomorrow, I have some last minute planning I need to take care of,” you explained. You got up the couch where you were seated and went over to your dorm room. You changed into your pajamas, just a t-shirt and shorts, and went down to the basement.

You had asked Bakugou for the keys earlier so you didn’t have to worry about the basement being locked. You opened the door, the familiar wave of dingy basement overwhelmed your senses just as it did the first time you went inside. You signed.

I definitely won’t miss the smell.

You went over to the endless piles of boxes, shuffling through them.

Where the fuck are they?

Finally you found just what you were looking for. The crowns for Prom King and Queen. Cheesy, yes, but some traditions never die. You grabbed the dusty crowns and a cleaning wipe and sat down on the table. You crossed your legs and began to clean off the plastic crowns.

“I figured I would find you down here.” You whipped your head around to see Bakugou.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you joked. Bakugou joined you on the table.

“Who do you think is gonna win?” asked Bakugou, pointing to the crowns.

“I know Aoyama has been practically begging people to vote for him so I hope he wins. I think Momo had mentioned wanting to win, but so did Mina so I guess we'll know tomorrow,” you explained. Bakugou nodded. He took the queen crown from your hands and placed it on your head.

“Yeah, you’d look pretty stupid if you won so hopefully no one votes for you,” he said. You yanked the crown off of your head and slapped Bakugou’s arm.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. Bakugou sighed.

“I guess this is kinda it,” said Bakugou. You looked down.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you whispered.

“You know what Y/N, you’re not all that bad really.”

“It only took you three years to realize that dumbass...but thanks,” you smiled.

The tension between you and Bakugou, well, you could cut it with a knife. He sat so close to you, your feet dangling over the edge of the table. Before you even realized what you were doing, you were moving. You hopped off of the table and stood in front of Bakugou, in between his legs.

“What are you doing dumbass-”

“Just shut up for a second.” You looked down, refusing to make any eye contact with him. You took the collar of Bakugou’s shirt with your shaky hands. You gripped onto it and pulled him towards you, still not looking at him. You weren’t even thinking at this point, just letting your actions take over.

“Y/N look at me,” ordered Bakugou. You took a deep breath and slowly lifted your head up. Your eyes met Bakugou’s. You began to slowly move closer to him.

“Katsuki I-I-”

“It’s past curfew, you two should be in your dorms.”

“Fucking hell-”

You immediately jumped away from Bakugou and both of you looked over to the familiar voice.

“Uh we’re sorry Mr. Aizawa,” you apologized.

“Whatever last minute planning you two need to do, you can do it in the morning. Get to your rooms.”

“Right.” You and Bakugou immediately sprinted out the door. Your skin burned, you were so embarrassed. How could you think to confess your feelings to Bakugou like that?

~

You caught your breath once you were back at the dorms. Bakugou stood next to you.

“Well goodnight Kat-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bakugou had grabbed your hand and was leading you towards his room.

“Katsuki its late-”

“Then you should be quiet.” Bakugou unlocked the door to his room and brought you inside. He instantly closed the door behind you and pinned your wrists onto the door.

“What the hell was that?” he huffed. His breath was heavy on your face, which didn’t help the burning sensation you felt all over you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“In the basement.”

“Well I-I...”

Bakugou looked you dead in the eyes.

“You were gonna kiss me, weren’t you?” Your eyes grew.

“W-what? Me? Kiss you? No…” Bakugou chuckled. He began to rub his thumbs up and down on your skin as he held your wrists to the door.

“Are you really getting timid on me Y/N? What happened to that hot-head personality we all love?” Bakugou was visibly taunting you. Every smirk, every glance up and down, every time he would tighten his grip on you. He wanted to see you flustered, and it was working.

“I-uh-” He laughed again.

“Come on princess, don’t play dumb with me. Go on, say it.”

“W-what?”

“I haven’t got all day Y/N.”

“Say what?” Bakugou licked his lips and whispered in your ear.

“Say that you want me just as badly as I want you.”

Before you could even think, words spilled out of your mouth.

“Make me.”

Bakugou tilted his head back, letting out a breathy: “Fuck…” before looking back at you.

“You really wanna play this game dumbass?” You gulped.

“Yes…”

Bakugou smirked at you, licking his lips once more.

“Alright, then how’s this?”

Bakugou let go of your wrists and snaked his hands around your waist, gripping around you tightly. He took another small shuffle closer to you. His thumbs rubbing the hem of your shirt, slowly exposing more skin.

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that Katsuki,” you said breathily, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“How about now?” Bakugou slowly moved his hands from your waist and down to your ass. You lost your breath at his touch. Bakugou brushed the tip of his nose against yours, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Nope,” you whispered. It was impressive enough that you could even form a sentence at this point. The entire room felt like a million degrees.

“Last chance Y/N…”

Bakugou removed one of his hands from his grip on you and brought it up to your face. He caressed your cheek softly. He then took his thumb and pressed it on your aching lips before painfully slowly dragging it down. He brought his face close to yours again, your lips almost touching.

“Go on...say it.”

You couldn’t take his teasing any longer. His hot breath mixing with yours. He was so close, smirking at you. He knew exactly what he was doing. So, there was only one thing for you to do.

“Fuck you Katsuki.”

You closed the gap between yours and Bakugou’s lips, kissing him intensely. Bakugou didn’t waste another second, immediately picking you up and carrying you towards his bed. He laid you down on your back, hovering over you as he continued to kiss you. You tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Eager much?” he teased, pulling his shirt over his head. His perfectly sculpted body was breathtaking to say the least.

“You’re staring Y/N.”

“I am not,” you huffed. You took your t-shirt, taking it off as well. Bakugou’s eyes grew as he looked at you just in your bra.

“Look who is staring now?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou dipped back down, kissing you again. You brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it. Bakugou began to trail his lips down to your neck, placing endless kisses all over you. He then began to suck on your neck, slowly.

“Maybe I’ll just have to spell my name all over you. Mark you up...make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he groaned against your neck. Chills trailed down your spine.

“Fuck Katsuki…”

“God I love it when you say my name-”

Bakugou continued to kiss your neck, marking you up as promised. You started to breath a little faster, your heart pounding. You brought Bakugou’s head back up to face you, bringing your lips to his.

It was everything you wanted and more. The way he kissed you. The way his skin was pressed against yours. It was magic.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly just to get him as to you as possible.

“God you’re so fucking gorgeous. Fuck princess-.” At this point, Bakugou was just spitting out whatever thoughts came to mind. You were intoxicating to him.

He tucked his arm under you, flipping you so that you were now straddling him. You held his warm face in between your rough hands. He gripped onto your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“Wait Katsuki I-I,” you broke away from the kiss for just a moment.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. You smiled, shaking your head.

“No not at all. It just um-” Bakugou sat up, having you sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“This is probably terrible timing but...Katsuki Bakugou, I think I’m in love with you,” you said nervously. Bakugou smiled.

“I know dumbass, I’m not stupid.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. You smiled shyly.

“That's all I wanted to say...we can go back to what we were doing.” Bakugou chuckled.

“So eager again.”

~

Your head rested on Bakugou’s chest as he traced his finger along your back. It had to be at least 3am.

“It’s way past your bedtime Katsuki,” you whispered.

“Who needs sleep when I’ve got you here,” he said. You looked up at him and smiled.

“We still do, silly,” You tapped his nose. Bakugou sat up.

“Hold on…” He got up from the bed and walked over to his closet.

“Here.”

“Your skull t-shirt?”

“Yeah…uh, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to-”

“Of course I want to wear it.” You slipped his favorite shirt on. A smile now appeared on Bakugou’s face.

“Y-you look good,” he said nervously, his cheeks flushed red. You chucked grabbing his arm to lay back down with you.

“Maybe we should get some sleep,” he smiled, rubbing your back again. You nestled your head into the crook of Bakugou’s neck.

“Hmmm okay…” you yawned. Bakugou chuckled.

“Get some rest dumbass.” Bakugou wrapped his arms around you as you laid on his chest. Your breath and his were perfectly in time. Bakugou waited until you were asleep for him to sleep as well. The both of you drifting to sleep with silly smiles plastered on your faces.

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @bokutory @complimentaryhugsgirl @cloudswritings @kriswu46 @neodnyl @evivn1 @jazzylove @mileven-reddie @whalerus @misssugarless @random-fandom-girl-24 @fanfiction-and-stress @ushiwakatrash @minhoswife @addictofsupernatural @the-shota-king-masayuki @freyafolkvangr @fourteenow @tamaguchi @lalayy @athenarosaline @blxck-coffee @katsukibabe @thatonegeekchick @that-chick212 @bibly @nxynxy @theunknownrandom @flustered-blue-eyed-sex-muffin @94potterhead @moonlightaangel @katusukisbitch2000 @secondchoicealwaysandforever @salsaedx @ukaisgratefulwhore if your name is bold i couldnt tag you ]

[justsomerandomntmranking]

Stephanie Hart

Place: Runner up

Average: 4.7

Steph H is just a maddening case to me of favoritism and how it almost kills a series. I talked about this in Eboni’s ranking but when you push someone who clearly doesn’t want it or just not worthy of the package, you’re just going to end up either killing their career or your own. Steph H is the latter where I just don’t see her doing anything after the show. I’ll focus on some of her positives though. Obviously, she’s young (she’s the youngest at 16) so color me surprise when Steph H actually didn’t come off as some inexperience mall chick. During the first half of the competition, she was fairly strong. I wouldn’t say she was the same level as my actual top 4 but compared to the weaker second half, she held her own. She did well in the group shot, her swimwear was unexpectedly seductive (plus one of her best), and ignoring her terrible beauty shot, she had a great runway walk in the beginning and did well in the car photoshoot. However, things just went downhill from there. I never understood her look, she looked so basic and much younger than she actually was, so she would never do the seductive sexy photoshoots at all, so she already failed at that (the last 2 weeks). Another factor to this is just Steph’s attitude after the 5th week. I don’t know if it was Steph H’s nerves or her feeling worse after everyone in the house turned on her and Paloma but she just sucked when it came to the second half. Her walk just got worse and worse and so did her photo quality. She would stiffen up on set or give up halfway through, resulting in lazy looking lazy and a dead face. Yet, she kept getting pushed by the judges more and more. I would understand the first 2 weeks of this (her stiff avant and nightmare fuel mothers-daughters) because of the much weaker girls left over but by the 8th week, where there’s been no improvement and a dwindling runway walk, that really should’ve lead the judges into realizing “hey wait, let’s get her out of here!”. That takes me to my next point, the agonizing favoritism for Steph H from the host Jodhi. Now, this has been commented on so many times by many people so I don’t feel like repeating myself’. But to sum it up, Steph Ho only made it so far to the finale because the host’s creepy obsession for her due to her age and look. It was just creepy to watch Jodhi, a 30 something woman, lust over recently 16 Steph, who still looked like a middle schooler. If Jodhi actually got her way and got Steph the win, I would reckon that the show would probably be considered one of the biggest jokes in reality TV history. I want to like Steph H, she seemed like a sweet girl and she proved at times that she could be a decent model, but I could only see her as a commercial girl. She had no versatility, her performance was getting worse and worse, and comparing her look to other girls like Jordan and Alice, it’s a joke that she even made it to the live finale and only got votes from the judges who creamed over her personality and look. I felt bad for Steph H for the bullying she got after the show and really, she should’ve been cut while they had the chance instead of making her think she could model when she would be caught after the C4 premiere being a waiter while Alice was booking shows left and right. Shame on Jodhi, just shame.

[gisellelx]

thank you for that post, it was sweet, but you want to know what the biggest struggle imo is?

It gets so damn tiring. exhausting and pointless really. having to introduce yourself as This™ or That™ gets really tiring really quickly. knowing that there will always be people that wont ever accept it, that will harass you on the streets that will argue with you on whether or not you even "exist". yea, even the feistiest of us get tired.

dont take it personally, sh-ing has little to do with an outsider and all to do with ourselves

Hugs anon.

It is hard, almost impossible, to walk around being a marginalized person in this world. It is absolutely exhausting and there is nothing wrong with feeling exhausted by it. I have lots of privilege in lots of ways, but one where I don't is race. I don't talk about that in fandom space often because analyzing racism is my work, and I don't like to feel like fandom is also my work, but I'm a mixed person who is read as Black, and I live in the south, and darn it, there are still plenty of people here who would rather I didn't exist and might be willing to act on that; implicitly or explicitly. And I am grown as all get out and this ish still makes me scared and exhausted. And that's even in spite of the fact that society writ large has more or less decided that not accepting people based on race is a problem, which is not the case for Kid. Or for you. So yeah. There are people who think you shouldn't exist and don't exist. That's real and I'm not here to say it's not. And I'm not so conceited as to think I can singlehandedly stop a person's internal struggle. Especially not with one tumblr post. But what I can do is to relentlessly do what I can to make the meatspace look more like this space. Just like people put their lives on the line to make space for people who look like me to vote, and get jobs, and hell just not have to drink from a different water fountain, it's now my time to aggressively make space for you. What I'm hoping you and anyone else take away from this answer and my first post, is simply that. Yes, it is utterly, bone tiring to know that there are people who think you don't exist and to have to confront them every day and to have to do educational and emotional labor for them. It's exhausting and while it might feel pointless, it's not because you're not pointless.

You exist. And so do lots of people who care fiercely that you do. We're your mom's best friends, and your aunts, and your professors, and just that one person who saw the clothing you agonized over this morning and the haircut you ran through ten possible scenarios before getting and gave you a big weird smile at the grocery store. We'll try to do a better job of making ourselves visible doing this work and to do more of it so you have to do less of it, because you're right. You shouldn't have to get this tired in order just to be.

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It’s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

[lifblogs]

Whumpay 2021: Day 30 - Breaking Voice / Stoicism

Hide the Pain

read on ao3 1744 words star wars, the clone wars, post-zygerria arc, anakin skywalker, angst, ptsd, implied/referenced rape/non-con, slavery mention, alcohol use

“And that is all that happened on Zygerria and Kadavo?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin did his best to keep his face completely plain, stoic. When he spoke, he tried to fill his voice with respect, “Yes, Master.” Though that word: master. It was like curdled milk on his tongue, going down to fester in his belly.

Thankfully he hadn’t had to use that word around the queen, but it had been everywhere. Nothing but slavery.

“Thank you, Skywalker. You’re free to go.”

He bowed, and then left the Council chambers, feeling sick enough to collapse, or to perhaps go back in there and tell them all off for sending him, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Rex into that mess.

It wasn’t fair! And why him? Their answer before sending him to Zygerria was that he was the one who had discovered the missing Togrutas, so he had insight on the mission. By insight they had probably also meant that he knew how the whole slave business worked.

So Anakin had tried to pretend that he was alright with playing the part of a slaver, had told himself that master was a good title for him. But really, being forced to make his Padawan dress like that, and presenting her to the slaver queen. It was one of the many heavy burdens he now carried with him.

Ahsoka had mentioned that she would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating, trying to center herself after all they’d been through. So he decided to leave her in peace and quiet. Obi-Wan was in the Halls of Healing. Anakin decided that’s where he would go. He couldn’t go back to his cluttered room and pretend everything was fine, couldn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments or her office. She would touch him, expect him to touch her. And he wanted to. Blast, he wanted to, and yet… Queen Miraj Scintel was stuck in his head like some infection.

He couldn’t see his wife. Not yet.

Truthfully, Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to see anyone, but he knew Obi-Wan had been tortured, so it was only right to visit him.

He was in a white tunic and pants when he entered the room he’d been given. He was surprised to see that Rex was there as well. Both looked weary, but most of their wounds were now light scars.

Anakin forced a smile onto his face, even while his blood boiled inside and his stomach churned.

Remain calm. Don’t let them see.

Obi-Wan started getting up to greet him, but Anakin waved it off.

“No, lay still. Rest.”

Rex saluted him. “General.”

Anakin saluted back. “Surprised to see you here, Rex.”

“Well, since I was so involved with the mission the Council thought I should stay close.”

“I’m glad. I hear the Halls of Healing have much better care than the military hospital.”

Rex leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. He shifted in his bed, and let out a sigh, eyes closing contentedly.

“That we can definitely agree on.”

Anakin went and patted his shoulder, and then went to Obi-Wan. He took a seat by his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, though it was a thin, weary thing, nothing but a mask. “Seeing as I no longer feel like I got shot, whipped, and beaten, I think I’ll be fine.”

Anakin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master. I was leading the mission, and—”

Obi-Wan held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t carry that guilt with yourself. I took risks I thought necessary, and well, I paid for them.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat bland, noncommittal tone as he leaned back against his pillows. “How’s Ahsoka?”

“Mostly unhurt. She was treated for dehydration, but she’ll be fine. She’s meditating.”

“Good, and you?”

Anakin paused. His heart beat wildly, and for a few moments he worried that his former master could hear it. Why were they even keeping up this charade? None of them were truly fine. Anakin could sense it, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame and guilt. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and focused he would be able to see Kadavo, see glimpses and brief flashes of the tortures he had gone through.

He tried to force a smile on his face, but he felt it was more like a grimace. So then he kept his features stone cold. His insides boiled, and burned.

“I’m fine.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Mm hmm.” Obi-Wan peeked around Anakin, and asked, “Captain, do you perhaps feel well enough to give us some privacy?”

Rex peeped open an eye and then got up with only a little difficulty. “I was thinking of taking a walk anyway, General.”

“Very good. Enjoy your walk.”

After Rex left, Anakin sighed, lowering his head. He didn’t want to face his former master.

“Anakin, on Zygerria… what happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I sense much anguish for nothing to have happened.”

Anakin swallowed roughly, and shook his head. “Just forget it.” His voice was gruff, not at all the hard phrik ore like he’d wished to display.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, voice gentle. “Please, Anakin.”

“I should go,” he said, getting up and making to leave.

“I want to help you!”

“You can’t.”

Anakin left, insides like a hot furnace, like fire and lava deep within a planet’s core. Darkness festered in it, and he wanted to rip his very skin off.

He wandered, blind to where he walked, until he found himself outside Yoda’s meditation room.

Before he could knock, he heard Yoda say, “Come in.”

Anakin entered.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin went to take a seat across from him. The blinds were half-open, letting in some of Coruscant’s light.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Questions, have you?”

“Why, Master?” he asked, all of the hardness he’d tried to build around him melting, liquid ore bursting forth. What he was left with was a broken voice, and tears building up in his eyes, the sensation pinching at his sinuses.

“The will of the Council, it was.”

“Yes, but why? Why send me? Why send any of us? You know my past. How could you do this to me! How could the Council—!”

Yoda held up a small green hand.

“Peace, young one.”

Anakin snarled at him, but quieted himself.

“Against this mission, I was. Hurt you it would, I feared. This pain you feel, from things you did not speak to the Council of, is it?”

Anakin nodded.

“What happened to me…” He clenched his jaw, and turned away. He couldn’t admit it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. “It shouldn’t have… I wish…”

“Know this, I do. Sorry, I am, as we all should be.”

“You think the rest of the Council is going to feel that!” Anakin shouted, getting to his feet, waving his arm about. “In the end, they agreed to send me there. Did they aim to hurt me? Is that what’s going on?”

“Young one—”

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin snarled. He knew he was young, yet he didn’t feel it. Not after all the horrors he’d been through, and not after his… his nights spent with the queen. “There is something wrong here,” he admitted. “With—with the Council, with all of it, if the leading vote was that I, a former... slave, should go on that kind of mission.”

“Insight, they thought you had.”

“Yeah, sure. Insight into all the pain and torture, and how humiliating and debasing it is! I had to expose my own Padawan to that! It—it dredged up things I wanted to forget.”

“But forget the past, we must not. Accept it, and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to accept it when it’s shoved in my face like that? When I’m forced to… When I’m…” Anakin trailed off, holding in a sob. Part of his voice came out as a whimper.

“Young Skywalker, these experiences you had, part of you they are now.”

“I don’t want them to be,” he ground out.

“For us to decide, that is not. To truly be a Jedi, accept who we are, accept the past, we must. Trust in the Force.”

Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force? Was that the only answer he was going to get? Anakin trusted in the Force, day after day, and yet hadn’t it betrayed him? Hadn’t the Jedi betrayed him?

“Forgive me, Master,” he said, bowing, needing to be alone. “I should not have troubled you.”

Despite Yoda’s admonitions, Anakin left.

Time slipped past him in agonizing moments, every noise setting him on edge, making him want to fight, freeze, or simply run and hide. He wanted to lash out at everyone, at the universe. He held it in, letting it rot in him with the blackness Miraj Scintel had put in him with her touches.

Hours later he found himself at a bar, not even sure where he was. He just knew he needed another drink.

Wobbling in his seat, he called over the bartender and ordered another shot of whatever it was he was putting in his body—spotchka, maybe. The bartender began to refuse, and Anakin just passed him more credits, hoping that would be enough to stay his worries.

A shot of blue liquid that glowed and twinkled in the dim light was passed to him, and Anakin drank it greedily. The alcohol was poison, but why not add to the poison already there? It was already going to kill him, surely.

His comlink beeped, someone wanting to speak with him. He ignored it, but a few minutes later, it went off again.

Anakin turned from the bar, and answered.

“Anakin, where are you?”

“Padmé?” he questioned, voice not wanting to come out, but it did so anyway.

“I heard you got back from your mission hours ago. Where are you? Why haven’t you visited?” Suddenly, a brawl started up in front of him, and there was cheering and yelling. “Are you—are you in a bar?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Anakin, come home. Please. I want you to talk to me. What happened on that mission?”

“Nothing.”

“Anakin, I—”

He broke the connection, sneered at the bar fight, and went back to his drink. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his pain.