#Decade became pink lol

[es-zp]

Pink Kamen Rider Decade doesn't exist, he can't hurt you

Pink Kamen Rider Decade:

[chernabogs]

ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.  It knows no law, no pity.  It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed. 

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass. 

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move. 

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest. 

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him. 

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery. 

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend. 

Naturally, it didn’t last. 

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response. 

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.” 

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell. 

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions. 

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg. 

“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia. 

But the empty seat felt an ill omen. 

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well. 

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose. 

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had. 

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all. 

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development. 

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again. 

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself. 

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something. 

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands. 

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more. 

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders  of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling. 

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white. 

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach. 

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body. 

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope. 

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her. 

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far. 

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind. 

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more. 

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?” 

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands. 

“And this is mother?” 

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble. 

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?” 

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.” 

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now. 

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers. 

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe. 

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this. 

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book. 

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress. 

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

 “Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included. 

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection. 

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?” 

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.” 

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees. 

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.” 

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?” 

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.” 

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.” 

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away. 

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

[tmiric]

Hello! This is a sort of mini article about lolita fashion! (More of an introduction article) Enjoy!

Lolita fashion-

♡ What is lolita fashion? ♡

Lolita fashion is a subculture which originated in Japan in the early 90s, and gained popularity throughout the mid 90s and early 2000s. The fashion is inspired by victorian clothing and rococo period and is a cute, elegant and modest style.a typical lolita outfit consists of a blouse, a dress or a skirt, a petticoat, long stockings and some headresses such as hats, bows, rectangles and many more. The lolita subculture is divided into 3 main styles- gothic lolita, classic lolita, and sweet/pastel lolita. There are a lot of in-between styles such as hime (princess) lolita, punk lolita, sailor lolita, guro(horror) lolita and many more. A common misconception about lolita fashion is mixing it up with cosplay, which is wrong. lolita is not cosplay, it is a lifestyle and a form of self expression through clothes, while cosplay is a form of roleplay, pretending to be someone else using costumes. another misconception about lolita, is thinking that it has anything to do with the famous novel written by vladimir nabokov lolita, which contains depictions of sexual abuse and pedophilia. The fashion itself is very modest and doesn't focus on sexuality. The meaning and reason for dressing lolita is different for each person. Some dress this way because they find it pretty, and some want to celebrate their femininity in a different and more modest way, rather than enhancing their feminine features. Some wear it as a way to rebel against society's pressure on grown people to act and dress a certain way.

♡ history & origin ♡

Although lolita became an established subculture only in the early 90s, its origins date back to the late 1970s. With kawaii culture taking its first steps, and the admiration of French culture being common among the youth, a new type of female street fashion was born, which is called otome (maiden) kei. It is a casual, romantic hyper feminine style, inspired by the European fashion and femininity of the 1960s. As a result, a lot of fashion brands such as milk, pretty (now known as angelic pretty) and pink house adopted this new look, and the style became very popular in Harajuku district in tokyo. During the 80s, the popular magazine olive influenced fashion by featuring those brands, and promoting a "french lifestyle", which paved the way for future lolita brands. The romantic french look of the 80s was a start, and a little later lolita was born! street fashion magazines such as kera and fruits started featuring lolita fashion in their issues, and the fashion became more popular. The 90s were also when gothic lolita made its first appearance, which was created by the visual kei guitarist mana sama. He created a link between Visual Kei aesthetic and a dark Victorian twist on lolita. He also opened his own brand, moi meme moitie which was a refreshing alternative to the classic lolita brands, and has influenced lolita to this day. At the time, lolita fashion became more defined and, by the noughties decade it was at its peak. Kera published the famous spin off magazine, gothic & lolita bible, which featured diy and makeup tutorials, interviews with designers and musicians, street photographs, new collections and many more. By that time, pretty changed their name to angelic pretty, and more brands started designing for specific lolita substyles. the movie kamikaze girls came out, in which the main character, momoko, is a lolita who wears dresses designed by the brand baby the stars shine bright (btssb) and daydreams about the french rococo lifestyle, influenced the style and members of the community and with that the sweet lolita was the new look. During that time lolita gained recognition overseas, with brands opening shops in Europe and the US, and misako aoki becoming the ambassador of kawaii lolita fashion. The livejournal community EGL (elegant gothic lolita)for western lolita was established, and the international popularity developed the style even more, but sadly as the time passed lolita became less popular. moi meme moitie closed all of their physical stores, and magazines like g&lb fruits and kera stopped publishing new issues. with the rise of fast fashion, came the downfall of lolita fashion.

♡ lolita lifestyle ♡

Many lolitas think of lolita as a way of living, and not just a clothing style. Some sweet lolitas choose to live like princesses at the court of Versailles, surrounding themselves with beauty, while goth lolitas like to be mysterious, hang around gothic churches and graveyards and read gothic poetry. each substyle has its own typical activities and lifestyle, although this way of living is optional and depends on the person. you don’t have to indulge in such activities to be considered as lolita. Some popular hobbies among the lolita community are baking, drawing, sewing and embroidery. Those who live the lolita lifestyle wear coords daily, participate in lolita meetups and interact with the lolita community regularly. Usually, lolita meetups take the form of tea parties or picnics in which the members of the community hang out and discuss the latest trends in lolita fashion. Each meetup has its own dress code. Some lolitas feel more comfortable hanging out in groups rather than alone, because the style drags a lot of unwanted attention. Many lolitas get catcalled and harassed simply for dressing a different way than what's considered as mainstream or "normal".

Metamorphose 2010 spring catalog

♡ substyles ♡

As I stated before, the lolita subculture contains lots of different substyles, but the main 3 and most popular are gothic, sweet, and classic.

♡ classic lolita -

a lolita substyle that is highly inspired by historical fashion. This style is more mature and elegant than other styles, as it focuses on capturing the elegance of the Victorian era. common motifs among this style are solid color pieces, florals, and stripes along with prints featuring crowns, fleur de lis, crests, antiques, animals, architecture, and reproductions of old master paintings. Animals and fruit prints in classic lolita tend to have a realistic or antique look to them, as opposed to the more cartoon or fantasy-like styles favored by sweet lolita. Unlike other lolita styles, flat shoes are very uncommon. There are many higher heeled shoes with straps as well as Victorian style boots. As for the hair, it's usually kept pretty neutral. common colors are brown, black and blonde. it can be styled in any way but nothing too extreme. The makeup is usually neutral looking to give off a mature elegance.

Metamorphose 2015 catalog

♡ gothic lolita -

a lolita substyle that takes its inspiration from Victorian clothing and the gothic subculture. This style was popularized by the visual kei guitarist mana sama. common motifs in gothic lolita often include crosses or religious themes, bats, skulls, vampires, coffins, chandeliers, deep red roses, and castles. Darker colors, such as black, navy and royal blue, maroon, crimson, and deep purples are all common in gothic lolita. popular hairstyles are straightened or curled hair left down, or put into pigtails. sausage curl pigtails are popular as well, but are usually styled with more over the top coords. As for makeup, dark lipstick ( red, wine, deep purple and dark brown) and smokey or neatly defined eyes are common. some may add a light blush.

Although mana sama was the one who popularized this substyle, he often wears a unique, dramatic, doll-like makeup look which is not very common among the community, but is well loved. common shoes are mary janes, rocking horse shoes (originally designed by vivienne westwood), boots, and platform shoes.

Alice doll magazine 2001 | Mana sama for Gothic Lolita Bible 7

♡ sweet lolita - a lolita substyle inspired by victorian and rococo period clothing, with a cute twist. common motifs in sweet lolita are puppies, bears, cupcakes, ice cream, cherries, strawberries, bows, hearts, stars, cakes, flowers and kittens. common colors are pastel colors (pink, blue, yellow, purple, etc) light shades of pink, pearly white, and mint. Sweet lolita accessories are usually very over the top, in order to reflect the fantasy theme of the lolita subculture. common accessories are crowns, stuffed animals, star and heart shaped bags as well as fruit shaped bags. shoes are usually flat, common ones are mary janes and tea party shoes in pastel colors. hairstyles in sweet lolita are very diverse. Some wear their hair curled, some wear pigtails and braids, and some prefer their hair left down. makeup is usually very light and neutral.

Baby the stars shine bright 2010 autumn collection

♡ lolita today ♡

Although lolita isn't as popular as it once was, it still exists. There are large lolita communities, online and in real life, and some of the brands are still open to this day. In recent years there has been a rising interest in japanese culture in the west. Whether it be through anime or manga, a lot are diving deeper into Japanese culture and fashion. I see lots of people online (typically young people) talking about Japanese street fashion, taking inspiration from fruits and other street fashion magazines, kawaii fashion, gyaru fashion and many more. I think that a part of our generation is trying desperately to go back to slow fashion. I see a lot of teenagers encouraging the consumption of second hand clothing and making things yourself. Maybe this mix of embracing Japanese culture and slow fashion will result in a lolita comeback. I feel like it's happening slowly, with the revival of Japanese street fashion as a whole.

References~

Gothic lolita- lolita wiki

What is Japanese kawaii culture?- the japanese shop

Lolita lifestyle- alternative fashion wiki

The Blog “Lolita tips” on tumblr

What is Otome kei- devilinspired

Classic lolita- lolita wiki

The history of lolita- the comm

History of sweet lolita-rebels market

Lolita fashion- wikipedia

Lace & petticoats by vysanthe pn YT

For pictures-

Lolitahistory.com

[axolozzy]

had an insane dream about TUMBLR so i thought it was my obligation to share (warning for murder and horror movie like stuff i guess)

so there was this old tumblr creepy pasta that was really popular back in the day and it took place on a blog called “cortney’s blog” spelled exactly like that. it was weird because it was the only blog that had a space and apostrophe in the name.

the main antagonist was this tiny really ugly wrinkly pink creature that looked like a 3D puppet of that one shrimp character from smiling friends, and it’s name was The Numbler. iirc Cortney was i think the stereotypical popular high school girl but in secret she was the only one who could see and talk to The Numbler (or the only one The Numbler allowed to see and talk to it) and basically carried out murders for it. she had pale skin and long brown hair and wore a heavy metal band t shirt

(also like halfway through the dream, i realized it was a dream and thought i’d wanna write it down and post about it when i wake up LOL so the way i thought to remember The Numbler’s name was thinking about the word “mumble,” “number” and “the riddler” all combined into The Numbler. and it worked)

also it’s weird because the dream kinda kept going back and fourth from present days and flashbacks, so it’s kinda hard to get the timeline right. so i don’t know exactly how The Numbler started or came to be, because i didn’t see that far back yet before i woke up. i also don’t know how the dream ended either

anyway from what i can remember, the stuff put on cortney’s blog years and years ago was in the form of really well drawn webcomics that told the story of each murder Cortney committed, most of them involving her luring people away from their friends and murdering them. but people didn’t exactly know or think it was real because they were just comics. somehow, people caught on that the stuff the blog was posting was actually based on real murders taking place at the same time, but nobody could find the bodies or the person running the blog, so it was kinda just left as a creepypasta and forgotten about as time went on and it stopped posting.

and when i say forgotten about, like really forgotten about. nobody really knew it had existed unless you were on tumblr like a decade ago and saw the whole thing go down yourself, otherwise the posts became kinda lost to time and were never talked about.

years later, i was at my grandma’s house just kinda hanging out lol and i went upstairs to this really weird room we were never really allowed in. the room was dark and looked like a concrete basement and there were all sorts of writings on the walls that looked written out of dried blood or black paint. there was a giant rectangle slab in the middle that was basically a bed i think but it looked more like a tomb or coffin. apparently this was where cortney committed her last murder (which. apparently was my grandpa LOL???) and after that, her spirit became trapped in that room for years until the door was finally opened by ME. oops

now cortney’s spirit is loose and i’m freaking out and trying to find out soo much lore about her blog to find a way to stop this. i looked through all the cortney’s blog tumblr posts and read all the comics. it was a weird moment because suddenly, everyone on tumblr was coming across those posts again and reblogging them saying they were part of the tumblr greats and stuff. as i was binging the comics, i also reblogged them to show my mutuals because they were genuinely interesting and a good story and thought they’d like it. apparently there had also been a horror movie adaptation of cortney’s blog back in the day so i watched that movie to find out more.

the movie didn’t reveal much except i think it’s how i figured out where The Numbler was left. anyway during all of this, cortney’s blog had started posting AGAIN and people were really excited because they thought it returned for some kind of arg creepypasta and they didn’t think it was actually Real.

my time was limited to find The Numbler and destroy it before Cortney came back and killed me, so i began my search. here’s the part where it gets confusing and i feel ends very abruptly. i went outside by the woods that don’t exist irl and found three wooden crates that looked like they had been there a really long time. they were all weathered down and had plants growing around them and stuff.

anyway me and my friend (dunno who it was they kinda showed up outta nowhere) opened the crates and found some stuff. the first one had a red piece of yarn in it and and ohhh shit i think i forgot something else important. so! sometimes i get these weird lucid deja vu dreams where during the dream, i realize im dreaming and that i’ve actually had the same exact dream before! but that’s a lie, i’ve literally never had those dreams before but my brain made me think i did? so i knew some extra information that was just given to me at the start i think. that information was that The Numbler had more friends. there was a red piece of yarn that could take shape of a little stick man person and stuff. then there was a rag that was also a little guy idk. they were just little fucked up creatures that were part of the cortney’s blog lore and were The Numbler’s companions.

after The Numbler was abandoned all those years ago when Cortney’s spirit was trapped in my grandpa’s room, it and its friends were basically trapped in those crates and abandoned for years. my friend and i had now just opened them and saw the remains of those guys, now just the lifeless objects they were based on. the red yarn was just a piece of yarn and the wash cloth was just that. but The Numbler was nowhere to be seen. fuck

we ran back into the house after seeing a creepy fucking shadow man staring at us from across the lawn. it was creepy as hell and was now IN THE HOUSE CHASING US. this house was not my grandma’s anymore either it was just a random house i’ve never been in before, i think it was suppose to be my mystery friend’s house actually.

anyway i just stayed in the kitchen and my friend and their family were being chased by the shdadow man and allll of The Numbler’s friends. yep. they were back to life now, must’ve been playing a trick on us in those crates, and now they were like running in a circle around my friends doing some sort of weird ritual thing. all of a sudden they became humanoid and their personalities also reminded me of the starkid lords in black, both the weird monster forms and the human forms.

anyway i was hiding under a really small table and could see into the room were they were terrorizing my friends. i made eye contact with one of the creatures. shit

i was found, they all surrounded me, then i woke up. i have no idea what happened to The Numbler or Cortney but their friends were doing some sort of ritual on us and they probably completed it. Cortney probably continued her reign of terror and fed our bodies to The Numbler who knows. it was a crazyyy dream i hope u all found it entertaining :) now who wants to make The Numbler the new tumblr sexyman

[buckybarnesss]

I, of course, was orphaned after leaving the SPN fandom, and got into Teen Wolf because of the gifsets. Teen Wolf was on it's second season by then, so I had to binge season 1 to catch up.

It was so much fun!! It was really the last time I felt connected to a big fandom! We would all liveblog the episodes (RIP to my SPN followers who were annoyed with me for not tagging it), we'd argue about whether or not Allison should apologise, we'd yell about the treatment of black and brown characters, and then the Scott vs Derek war happened and we all yelled at each for MONTHS.

I think THAT is when the phrase "Defense Squad" started. I never saw it in use in the fandom before then, but we were definitely splintered off into camps at that point.

I remember the beginnings of Failwolf Friday. Pink Undies Sunday. Who first wrote the phrase "Derek lets his eyes bleed red" to indicate that Derek's eyes changed colour? I don't know but that pioneer lives on in every Sterek fic (because we all stole that phrase immediately).

Also we had knotting BEFORE omegaverse became a thing, and without any of the weird gender rules.

lol i was on ontd_spn too and followed the mass fandom migration to tumblr.

teen wolf fandom is important to the history of fandom culture on this god forsaken webbed site in large because it was a fandom that took off after the large livejournal migrations and the end of the closed fan forum. we had no where else to go to interact and twitter always has and will always suck at being a place for fandom.

i also started watching in s2. i binge watched all of s1 in a night at my then job and was right on time to join fandom right when abomination aired.

i loved supernatural but i cannot emphasize how hard it was to break into that fandom. one thing about livejournal i never cared for was how easy it was for cliques to form and if you didn't befriend the right person your meta, your fics or your discussion thoughts went into a black fucking hole.

at least on tumblr there was a higher chance of engagement. your posts would be in the main tag and if you by chance got reblogged by someone with a higher follower count you would then get more followers. meta would be passed around and developed with additions and commentary by others. it was so much fun.

gif sets were a new method of communication of ideas. we could easily do parallels, create visual au's and just generally engage in a new but fun and interesting way.

tumblr leveled the playing field in a lot of ways for smaller creators.

of course the old fandom ways of shipping wars and rivalries happened too and even now a decade later there's still division in the teen wolf fandom but sometimes i got to like the subreddit and i'm like "bro we had this discussion in 2013. this is a settled matter!"

[papirouge]

Whats the difference between the north and south of France, culturally

To be honest, France can't be divided between North and South. France is a very unique country because it's on the crossroad of Mediterranean Europe, Northern Germanic & Celtic Europe. Even our language is the hybrid result of all these cultures.

France's population is literally the result of a great replacement mixing of Gallic (natives - who themselves were super diverse) with Romans who invaded them coming from the Mediterranean pool.

Every French kid learn how the last Gallic warrior (Vercingétorix) surrendered to Julius Cesar

After that, for a good chunk of french History, kings worked to unify the kingdom because regions didn't speak the same language. French as we know is actually "parisien" language and all the other languages slowly fell into irrelevancy (although the last decades the government is trying to revive/protect them after being pressured to do so - some region are VERY defensive of their culture and language ex. the Bretons, Basques, Corses...)

Now to explain the main difference with France that don't solely abide in north/south division, I made you a little drawing

Northern France - violet : super poor. It's a region that historically hosted the country textile manufacturers and fell off because of the deindustrialization. Known for being lovely & homely people (which is true). They eat Camembert with coffee in the morning............

Has a stigma of being inbred and pedophiles because of the many incestuous & pedoscandals and child abduction gravitating this region. The fact that it's on the frontier of Belgium and Netherlands (the capital of childp*rn) has definitively something to do with it

Upper West coast - green : super famous for its cows and milk products (cheese, butter, etc.) and bad weather. Bretons are known to be extremely proud of their cultural heritage and had some terrorist movements against the French government to defend them from their erasure 💀

Paris zone - brown : Paris & the banlieues. Extremely socially diverse. Extreme poverty and extreme wealth. Political & cultural capital of France.

Upper east zone - blue : (I was born there <3) like the north of France, use to be an industrial centerfold of the country (metallurgy - they use the metal from that region to build the Statue of Liberty) and then fell off after deindustrialization.

Its closeness to Luxembourg allows many professional opportunities to work abroad (especially in the banking system). The European Parliament has one of its siege here (Strasbourg) because it's on the crossroad of other European countries

This region used to be German between the two WW therefore many cities have German sounding names (the region became French again after Germany lost WWII).

Growing up there as a kid, I remember there was still a HUGE influence of German culture. I learned German before English (I lost everything though lol)

believe me or not, all of those cities are in France🫡

Lower East coast - black : CULTURED FRANCE. That's where Champagne comes from (région Champagne). Bordeaux is the biggest city of that zone and is known to be a more cultured version of Paris for real connoisseurs 👀

Cote d'Azur - red : zone where the far right makes its highest score. Super rich old people go retire there. Cannes festival. Incredible beach. Most Mediterranean zone of France.

....But there's also Marseille which stands out like a sore thumbs because it's a city a lot of corruption and a HUGE North African/Muslim population. EXTREMELY DIRTY and dangerous (lots o gang violence). Lots of corruption too...

Corsica - pink : they fought for decade for their independence against France lol Still do this day hate France lmao Famous for its anti-France terrorism and killing a French préfet 💀 Are known to bomb the holiday house of French people who constructed there because they don't want "foreigners" to invade their island💀💀

[mvshr00m-1]

Okay so I was looking through my art on ibis- and found an old drawing of Scarlett (my villain rise OC), so I thought I would post it now lol

It's just a drawing of them present time, and then a concept idea for future her (apocalypse timeline)

By what I remember, they would have not survived the first decade. Probs would die a few years in.

During that time period, they would work with scraps and make clothes and gear for the resistance. Using everything and anything they could.

Looking back to this design again, I honestly should take more time to weather her clothes, and make it more apocalyptic, since right now it just looks too clean and organized. Not really showing the whole 'older workaholic resistance fighter'.

I am a big fan of her eyes, and arm, but it just needs more weathering. And as the pink obsessed bitch she is, she would 100% dye her hair pink when it started to grey. (Don't ask how she got the dye)

And I do like the idea that her cloaking necklace, became an earring.

Will 100% make a better design for her, but honestly haven't drawn her in ages... And currently going through it with my art style lol

[planetaryicebox]

The FIRST Impression: TXT

The first impressions I had of TXT when starting to get into them in late 2021, and the journey there after.

I first knew of them from World Trigger, when they did the OP of the second season. I actually didn’t know they were a K-pop group until someone told me.

I thought Force was a really good OP for the anime but never really bothered listening to it in full. That’s until THE FIRST TAKE video of TXT doing Force popped up in my recommended. 

That’s when my first impressions of them started. (Keep in mind, I’ve been out of K-pop since 2008-ish (middle school!), so my idea of K-pop was still centered around that time.)

Because Yeonjun had pink hair, I actually thought he was the leader ^^;

Taehyun, I thought was the rapper of the group. He just looked like he had a stronger personality than the rest of the members. Plus comments said his Japanese was really well enunciated, and I guess good pronunciation = rapper?

Hueningkai caught my eye a lot, mostly because I like guys with curly/wavy hair ^////^

I thought him and Beomgyu were the same age and super buddy-buddy because they looked quite similar to each other.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get much of a first impression from Soobin here ;;

After this Force first take, I decided to check out their other FIRST TAKE video, Crown. Which prompted me to watch the M/V.

I found it very catchy and cute, but I wasn’t 100% ready to get into K-pop after over a decade of harboring some bad prejudices about it. But their songs were good, and I just like listening to good songs, no matter the genre.

Then Magic came along. And I fell in love.

Beomgyu here just absolutely stole the show. With the clean white T-shirt and jeans combined with the long hair and headband, the ultra spunky and upbeat track, and fun performance, immediately TXT just hit me like a train.

Beomgyu became my first bias here, and I just ended up wanting to see more him. My high pride against getting into K-pop was breaking down, and slowly T:TIME videos would pop up in my recommended. I’d watch them from time to time, whichever caught my interest. I remember the first couple I ever saw, Beomgyu being silly [1] Taehyun in the green room [2]. 

Then LO$ER=LO♡ER appeared, and I had that on constant repeat for hours, just in the background. All the members left strong impressions with their acting and rock vocals.

Then TO DOs started to show up. The Police Playbook was the very first TO DO I ever watched; the police uniforms in the thumbnail caught my attention.

But I remember at that time, EP. 70 was the newest episode out. I decided to start from the very beginning and just binge watch every episode.

I remember being very surprised at their young ages, and slowly trying to learn and remember their names.

A favorite episode of mine is EP. 10, where the members chase each other in an amusement park. I love these kinds of concept lol

The EP. 11 & 12 camping episodes were good too. Along with EP. 21 indoor playground.

It was during watching past TO DO episodes that I slowly started to shift my bias to Yeonjun; at first, I felt sorry for him since he always seems to get the short end of the stick, very evident in the EP. 64 Holiday Party episode ^^;

And it turned into admiration as I began to start watching all the T:TIME episodes.

Learning about the members from behind the scene snapshots made me enjoy their personalities more. Especially how they love to tease each other so much lol

To be honest, I was surprised to learn Soobin was the leader; he gives a very soft impression, not too overwhelming and sort of quiet (well, except when he scolds members lol).

But I think over time, I’ve learn that really no else can be the leader but Soobin. His personality is very welcoming to new fans, and he very much knows how to manage and guide the members (even when they tease him lots lol).

[dominijoyce]

13, 19, 28, 35

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

ROOM DESCRIPTION! How do people write them seriously... My girlfriend will go on entire paragraphs describing every detail of a room a character enters, every color and how light falls on furniture, how the crack sounds and what the atmosphere is. My close real life friend will literally Tolkien-esque you a character walking by the river...

And I'm here like. "Um. The room's walls are pink. There is a clock on the wall. Room itself looks old and not taken care of."

Actually, I have similar issue with appearance description but in general those became less of a struggle for me after internalizing fully that no one really fully pays attention to that or they quickly forget details anyway and usually if ya provide just core stuff of how character looks, readers will just fill in the gaps.

On the other hand- I have heard countless times that people heavily struggle with First Person Perspective. Seriously can't relate - I love writing in first person, I love getting into the character's mind and their thought process and thinking of how it differs. I have multiple stories where perspective often shifts SPECIFICALLY because it lets me show how characters differ in how they experience and how they think.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

Good question. I think I started writing back when I started RolePlaying in general. That was like over a decade ago. I started RolePlaying and therefore writing because I already had way too many ideas for characters and stories and everything and so putting them in a form of RolePlay was a way to fuel all of it.

As for bumps... Well, other than me seriously thinking of quitting for good - well. Well I could talk of what happened 1-2 years ago in my writing journey but that's too personal for a public Tumblr blog, I guess ask me about that on Discord, lol. In general my current biggest bump and struggle is trying to go back into any schedule of writing as well as try to break my personal issue with posting my writing online.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

It's not like anyone here knows any of them lol. However mostly some of my villains of my more fucked up stories where everything is heavily complicated and reader is meant to be confused. In general my stories more oriented around psychological deconstructing of everything around [think Everything Everywhere All At Once level of fucked up psychological deconstruction lol] are those I love writing the most and villains of these... Well most of the time they are perpetrators of that fucked up stuff happening so it's amazing to write them. Again, ask me on Discord if ya want like... actual names or plot points. Not sure if anyone on Tumblr is interested in me infodumping my stories that I will never share publicly anyway, lol.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Any kind of cohesiveness lol. My stories will include: random font changes, random font size changes, multiple narrations going at once, dialogues that aren't written in any dialogue format, chapters numbered not chronologically, narrator suddenly stopping talking of the narrative...

If you are reading my story you will get confused and have to double take certain stuff. That's kind of the point. Unless it is like any of my mild stories like ones I publish so like fanfiction or ship fics idk. One of the stories I currently write has two narrators who keep on disagreeing with each other and claiming the other one lies as well as keeping on interrupting each other. It's fun.

For my JoJo Fanpart I'm still wondering how far I wanna go into it. Cause I do wanna publish it on AO3 or like, anywhere. But it involves this stuff, like in my current WIP I literally have drawn a line to split the page in half where half is stuff that is actually happening and actual story and half is breaking points and everytime Jo'Jo or Yona leave their vessels (makes sense if you know the plot). So like. That probs won't end up in final cut unfortunately.

[walks-the-ages]

okay well, as some initial info lol, it's a 2005 kid's movie directed by the same creator of Spykids (which are really well-written, fun films even decades later!)

The main plot of SB&LG is that the main character (Max) is bullied at school and has no friends, and spends a lot of his time daydreaming instead of hanging out with the other kids.

Max keeps a dream journal, because he often forgets his dreams if he doesn't write them down right away, and he pretty much holds this journal as something sacred.

Their first project of the school year is to write an essay describing what they did over summer vacation.

Max describes to the class how he met Sharkboy:

-- An orphaned boy who lost his biologist father in a tragic accident at sea while studying sharks, who was then subsequently adopted by those same sharks after they find him adrift at sea, where he discovers he can now understand them perfectly, and over the years, slowly mutates to have gills, a shark's fin, and the razor sharp (assumedly self-replacing) teeth of a shark, along with super strength and bite force to go with it.

[ID: A screenshot of a young Sharkboy, showing his newly firmed gils along the side of his chest through his threadbare shirt, and a shark's dorsal fin growing out of his back, both his same skin tone currently. He is standing on the raised outcropping in the middle of the Shark's hidden cave, with the ocean and endless horizon behind him. end ID]

Max met Sharkboy while fishing at a pier, and they became friends, which ended up with Max sneaking Sharkboy into their house and hiding him in their walled in glass shower, Shape of Water style lmao.

[ID: a screenshot of Sharkboy floating in a glass-enclosed tub, which is filled up almost to the top of the glass with water, now wearing a custom suit of grey armor, which may or may not be a physical part of his body, because his dorsal fin is now the same Great White shark Grey color. end ID]

and Lavagirl: an alien from the planet Druul/Drool who has no memories of her past (Max forgot the dream that contained her backstory), who has flames for hair and has uncontrolled fire powers, so she destroys everything she touches.

[ID: a screenshot of Lavagirl standing in a doorway and casting a pink/red glow around her. Her hair is neon pink and lit from behind (as a shorthand for being made of flames), and she is wearing a pink bodysuit that has lines of glowing lava in a geometric pattern, with metal/rock gauntlets, pauldrons, and a decorative belt. End ID]

Lavagirl says she's here to retrieve Sharkboy to help save her planet, and asks Max to come with them-- but he has to say no, because tomorrow is the first day of school. Sad but understanding, Sharkboy and Lavagirl flee into the night...

...and Max finishes reading his essay, only to become the laughing stock of the class.

A few days pass, wherein the main bully of the class successfully steals Max's dream journal, and threatens to "make changes". Max is able to get his dream journal back the next day when the teacher finds out, but Max is distraught when he realizes that the bully has gone in and crossed out and scribbled over many of his drawings.

A shouting match ensues between the distraught Max and the smug bully-- only for a violent storm to sweep in out on nowhere as Max shouts, spawning tornadoes and blasting the wall out in the classroom.

Surprise! Right as Max has admitted that he has an overactive imagination and made up Sharkboy and Lavagirl because he was lonely, they come crashing into the real world.

Long story short, Max is whisked away to this alien planet he thought he made up, and goes on a journey of self discovery, slowly unlocking his buried memories of dreams passed to help Sharkboy and Lavagirl find resolve for their own personal quests, with Max learning how to manipulate the reality of the planet via the mind, and going on a huge reality blending trip when its revealed that he's been sleeping this entire adventure, but it's all still really happening and now Earth itself is under attack from the villain, who has traveled out of the dream dimension and into the real world to wreck havoc.

I can't quite articulate it but this movie and the themes just really have the vibes of the Faction Paradox books I've read so far (The Book of the War / This Town Will Never Let Us Go / 60% of the way through Dead Romance) .

If you're ever bored and just wanna pass the time, it's an hour and a half long.

Sharkboy and Lavagirl has so many Faction Paradox vibes.

Genuinely.

[sweethischier]

in the end - druig

word count: 4.8k (bit longer than the other two yeah?)

summary: druig finally gets you to talk about what's got you so scared, and he promises to be there for you. Can he keep his promise in the end?

warnings: maybe some more angst, mentions of death, more self worth issues, brief inaccurate description of pandora’s box lol

note: please accept my apology of how long it took to get this out! i've been super sick and stuff, so this may not be the best thing in the world. this is unedited of course lol but i did my best! powered through the sickness best i could ahah

could be read as a stand alone, but it's better if you read part one and two

Druig, with eyes glowing gold, was quick to retreat back into the forest and towards his people. You stood frozen in your spot as your thoughts went to war with your heart. You wanted to follow him towards the screams, to help in any way you could, but your brain was replaying the worst moment of your life. It reminded you that you caused more destruction when you interfered despite your last centuries worth of personal training. Your heart urged you to go, telling you that you were ready for this, but you couldn’t seem to move your feet.

You’re not sure how long you had stood there, but you broke out of your petrified state when the electric sound of Ikaris’ beams filled the forest. You felt a switch flip inside your head, and you made an immediate dash towards wherever it came from. You dodged branches, jumped over rocks, and fallen trees as you ran towards whatever trouble was ahead. However, nothing could have prepared you for the scene before you.

Thena held a lifeless, colorless Gilgamesh close to her as she sobbed against his shoulder. Your eyes became cloudy as you watched her gently lay him on the ground, your hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock. The others found their way not too long after you had, and they all circled around the wailing warrior.

Druig’s fingers grazed your arm once he was behind you, briefly pulling your attention away from the heartbreak in front of you. He was quick to scan your body for any sign of harm but was even quicker to realize that you never made it to the fight. He delicately took your hand in his own before focusing on two of the most important people in his life.

The fire blazed in front of you as Karun spoke over the fallen soldier in his native tongue. You held onto Druig tighter than you’ve ever held onto anyone, afraid that he would be taken away from you too. You still doubted with everything in your heart that he had meant what he said, but that was the furthest thing from your mind right now. All you could think about was the fact that you had already lost two of the strongest people you knew, and you didn’t know who could be next.

The next step in Sersi’s plan was gaining the help of the one man who truly gave up hope for humanity decades ago. Those who remained loaded onto Kingo’s plane to make the trip to Chicago. You chose a seat near the window, leaning against the window as you attempted to push the grief to the back of your mind. Despite all you had done to mend your broken headspace, you knew it wouldn’t take much for it to shatter all over again. You’re not sure how much more loss you would be able to take.

It wasn’t long before your destination had been reached and the plane touched down in a random patch of deserted land. Sersi thought it best that only she go and discuss the situation with Phastos, but Ikaris insisted that he go with her in case something happened. The others were quick to agree with the couple, but they decided to step off the plane anyways to get some fresh air. You, however, chose to stay put in the slightly uncomfortable jet chair, not aware that there was one person who stayed as well.

“Hi,” Druig quietly made his presence known, not wanting to startle you.

“Hey,” You turned to give him a weak smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your eyes were still puffy and cheeks still pink from the tears you shed, and it made his heart ache. He wanted to take the seat next to you and comfort you, but he’s sure that your need for him is long gone now. He knew you only let him be there because you both had just lost someone very dear to you. However, he still had to try no matter how sure he was of your inevitable rejection.

“How are you feeling,” He asked, still awkwardly standing in the aisle with his hands clasped in front of him.

“As okay as I can be,” You shrugged before turning to stare out the window, “You can sit down you know.”

It was embarrassing how fast Druig fell into the seat, but he had no problem showcasing his desperation to be near you. You stifled a giggle when he quite literally jumped into the spot to your left and let a small “mmph”. The nervous feeling radiating off of Druig was something that genuinely confused you. He had always been the embodiment of confidence, always knowing what to do or say. Now, he was merely a shy boy who was scared he was going to push you off the cliff you were barely holding on to.

“Can we talk about what happened before the deviants?” His words were slow and careful, not wanting to say the wrong thing and upset you.

“What’s their to talk about, Druig? I don’t believe you,” You whispered, ignoring that dreadful feeling growing in your stomach.

“Why do you think that? Have I ever lied to you before,” Druig pointed out. He took your silence as a sign to continue. “Y/N, I meant everything I said to you. I have never stopped loving you.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you because I am too broken for someone like you to love me,” You confessed, finally turning to look at him through foggy eyes, “I am too messed up for anyone to love me! And- and you don’t get it because you’re perfect! You turned out how Eternals were supposed to turn out! Me? Somehow, Arishem fucked up with me and now I’m defective! I’m not sure I can even control my own abilities without hurting someone anymore.”

Druig did not falter despite your words hitting him in such a devastating way that he’s almost positive you punched a hole through his chest. He knew that you had some issues with controlling your emotions, but he never knew you felt as if you were broken, and it made him upset with himself. He had always taken pride in knowing how you felt before even you did. He was able to read you like the back of his hand without squeezing his way into your mind. How could he have missed this?

You were far too aware of how long Druig had been silent, and you were now regretting telling him how you truly felt. It was something you intended on keeping to yourself forever, but you always struggled with keeping things from him. You could never let yourself lie to him or hide things, which is why you went without speaking to him for so long before he left you centuries ago. You knew that if he got you talking that the truth would undeniably escape, and now it had. Now, you were wishing you had never left your secluded home so you could at least keep your heart intact.

Druig knew he had to say something soon; he could tell you were pulling away. “Listen to me, Y/N. You are far from broken. You have flaws, but we all do. It’s what makes us who we are. You are the most amazing person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” He took your face in his large hands, thumbs swiping at the falling tears.

“You wouldn’t think that if you knew what I had done,” You scoffed, shaking his hands away from your face. “You would hate me if you knew what I did all those thousands of years ago.”

“I don’t think anything could make me hate you, my beautiful girl. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I want you to know that it won’t push me way. I think telling someone might help you, though. Sitting on whatever it is for so long is bound to eat away at you.”

Once again, your head and you heart were raging war with each other. One telling you to tell him the truth, the other telling you that he would never look at you the same way ever again if you did. It made your entire body ache, not knowing what to do, but maybe he was right. Telling someone other than Ajak may help relieve some of the lifelong guilt, and you trusted Druig more than anyone.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath before starting, “Do you remember when I came back from fighting those deviants and I shut myself in my room for weeks?”

He did, and he remembered standing outside your door every day wanting to go inside and hold you, but Ajak instructed him not to. He was forced to leave you alone in a time that he knew you needed someone the most.

“Well, during that battle, I got separated from the others when I was trying to get protect the people. I was struggling to keep the deviant from killing them, but then another one came out of nowhere and started to attack me,” Your entire body was trembling as those dreadful images flickered in your mind, “I panicked. I let fear take over me, and I truly don’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I know, Ikaris is shaking me awake and-“

“Ikaris knew?” Druig couldn’t help himself.

You pursed your lips at his interruption, doing your best to steady your mind and body. “He did, but he was told to never speak of it to anyone, and you know how he worshipped Ajak. Anyway, I woke up only to find out that not only had I eliminated the deviants, but I had also killed the innocent people I was supposed to be protecting. Druig, I murdered those innocent people because I got scared.”

The air was tense as he let your words truly sink in, a million thoughts running through his own mind. He knew something horrid must have happened that day, but he never suspected that you had accidentally took the lives of those you were sworn to protect. However, it made sense in some sort of twisted way. The way you shut everyone out for weeks after, the way you reacted back in Babylon, and the way you constantly struggled with your own powers.

Your heart was beating so hard against your chest you swear it was bound to break through your skin. You struggled to take in a breath as your memory recalled the events from that day, visibly flinching from the dreadful screams that rang through your ears. You could feel yourself falling into the endless pit of darkness, but you willed every piece of you to stay present in reality. You couldn’t let yourself fall and potentially hurt anyone around you. Centuries of practice and patience needed to prove themselves worthwhile.

“You’ve been holding on to something like that for thousands of years,” Druig started, “I’m shocked you haven’t gone absolutely mad, Y/N. That’s too big of a weight for someone to carry alone for so long, love.”

“You’re not listening,” You mumbled, pushing yourself away from him and further into the seat, “I killed all of those people, Druig!”

He reached out and took your trembling hands in his own, “I am listening. I am, but there’s nothing that can be done about the lives lost. I know you have always cared very deeply for these humans, but you can’t let that ruin you forever. You can, however, learn from your past mistakes and find a way to use them to make you stronger. Don’t let their unfortunate sacrifice go to waste.”

His thumbs rubbed comforting circles on the backs of your hands as his eyes searched yours. Your already tear stained cheeks from mourning the loss of your friend somehow worsened, but your vision was clearing with Druig’s comforting words. You let his words resonate with you, and a part of you felt relieved. He was always the one person you found solace in, and this was proving to be no different. Of course, you knew that your guilt was not going to go away just because someone told you that everything was okay, but it was a start to your long-awaited healing process.

“You’re right,” You whispered as you found yourself slowly inching closer to the man in front of you. “I can’t let my ghosts control me forever, but I also can’t forget them.”

“No one is going to ask you to,” He dropped your hand to place his on your cheek yet again, “Healing from a millennia of pain and grief is going to take some time, but I intend on being there for it all. I intend on being there for you every step of the way.”

He was close enough to you that you could feel his warm breath hit your lips. You thought your heart was going to escape its cage earlier, but now you’re sure it was going to. You haven’t been this close to someone since before you isolated yourself in your home in the woods. Druig’s eyes were hooded as he gazed into your own, waiting to see if he was reading the moment correctly before he made his move.

“Druig,” You mumbled, dropping your eyes to his beautifully full lips, “I, uh, I want you to know that I do believe you. About everything.”

He was seconds away from closing the gap between the two of you, but the voices of your friends filled the plane, interrupting the moment you have waited far too long for. You quickly sprang away from Druig, your cheeks and tip of your nose flaming a bright red as you cast your eyes down in slight embarrassment. Druig dropped his hands in his lap and passed a very nasty, but not truly, look to those who ruined the moment he had dreamt about since he first saw you.

“We got him,” Kingo announced, abruptly pausing when he took in the sight in front of him, “What’s going on here?”

His dark brown eyes flitted between you and Druig, his hands on his hips as he quirked one curious brow. Sprite was peeking through the hole his arm made while the others stood behind him, confused as to why they were all stopped.

“Nothing of your concern, Kingo,” Druig spoke for the both of you.

He simply narrowed his eyes before finally picking his feet up again, making way straight for the chair opposite you. Karun followed shortly behind him with a small camera pointed at the flustered couple; the others scattering throughout the plane to take their seats. You kept your eyes on your lap, but there was nothing that could prevent the feeling you got from your oldest friend’s burning stare. Druig, however, met Kingo’s eye and gave him a taunting smirk as he tried to piece together what happened.

Kingo attempted to pull the truth out of either one of you the entire flight to the ship, but he came up empty. You kept yourself occupied by talking to Thena who had taken the seat behind you, doing your best to keep her mind off her greatest loss. Somehow, a few of the others found a spare change of clothes to change into before landing off in the desert to find Makkari and the ship. Druig was now sporting a black leather jacket, a pair of dark pants, and a pair of black boots. You had to keep your mind busy with anything else other than the images of Druig doing ungodly things to you.

The ship broke through its rocky encasement, rising to reveal itself to its previous inhabitants. It looked even more beautiful than you remembered with the sleek, black finish and bright slashes of gold. You grabbed a hold of Druig’s arm as you excitedly beamed up at your first home; an act that put a smile on his face without effort. The large door dropped open before you, and it wasn’t soon after that you followed Phastos inside.

You made sure to step over the books and trash that littered the hall as Kingo narrated his way towards one of the main rooms. Phastos was in the middle of making fun of him whenever a loud ‘pop’ startled him.

“Oh! Stay calm! Thena please,” He panicked before quickly taking notice of the bag she had stepped on. “It’s just chips.”

Druig bumped your shoulder with his own as you let out a small giggle thanks to Phastos’ nervous laughter and brief freak out. “He’s more scared of an empty bag than the celestial we’re all about to face,” He quietly teased, earning another bout of laughter from you.

A few feet ahead sat Makkari as she quite literally sped through pages of a book. She was surrounded by artifacts and books alike, and it made you truly miss the speed demon you hadn’t seen in centuries. Despite your jealousy, you had always been close to her and loved her like you would love a sister. You shared her love of knowledge, though she was a bit more into it than you were. Truthfully, you probably missed Makkari more than you had Druig.

Kingo moved to fill her in on the current events, while the rest of you searched through her hoard of random things. You stopped in front of an all too familiar box, your fingers grazing over the designs on the outside. You remember the woman it belonged to and the power she held over the people of her town. She was envied by so many that they started a rumor that this box harbored horrid curses and that she was the reason so many awful things had happened to those around her.

You were brought of your daze by the sound of Druig’s voice, and it was a sight that you instantly regretted. He was holding the infamous Emerald Tablet at arm’s length away from her, giving her a warm, teasing smile. You peeled your eyes away, blinking away the fast forming tears. You began to doubt everything you had discussed with him, and you let your mind quickly fall back into their self-destructive habits. Thoughts you did everything to suppress came bubbling to the surface.

“You make it hard to stay out of your thoughts when they are so so loud, my love,” A soft whispered voice broke through your barriers.

His chest was pressed flat against your back, and his hand gently slid down your arm before taking hold of your own. His lips were nearly touching the shell of your ear, sending chills throughout your entire body. He lightly tugged on your arm in attempt to get you to turn around, and his heart fractured when you did. Your eyes were welled with tears, but you refused to meet his gaze. You were embarrassed.

“Hey,” He tried, delicately taking your chin and guiding your gaze to him, “I meant what I said, and nothing will change that. Don’t let your thoughts consume you. That is a very dangerous practice.”

“I’m sorry, what is going on here,” Phastos exclaimed, gesturing to the two of you. “When did this happen?”

“Whatever it is needs to stop,” Kingo playfully gagged.

“Finally,” Makkari signed, giving a giant smile to the couple in front of her.

-

Ikaris betrayed everyone. He killed Ajak. He knew everything and he never told anyone, not even Sersi. Ikaris betrayed the only family he has ever known for a being he has never even seen. Despite the treachery, Phastos came up with a plan to stop the Emergence and keep this world around just a little bit longer. As you approached the erupting volcano, you put on the very clothes you wore when you lost control. Flashes of that day made an appearance, but it was nowhere near as bad as it was before. Druig’s words replayed through your mind, willing the bad memories to leave, and reminding you that you can’t let this control you forever.

You, Sersi, Makkari, and Druig made way towards the volcano as Thena distracted Ikaris, who was undoubtedly going to try and breach the Domo. You shared a look with Druig, and he gave you a small yet comforting nod. Anyone who saw you would be able to tell that you were substantially more nervous than those around you, and he wanted to do whatever he could to keep you at ease. He knew this was going to be your first battle in thousands of years, and it was not going to be easy.

It was time. The bracelet securely placed on your wrist began to whir, swirling around your arm as you were encased in a cage of gold lines. You closed your eyes and slightly tilted your head back, letting your hands come out beside you palms facing upwards. You felt your legs leave the safety of the ground, and despite the comfort of your friends, your anxiety began to latch itself onto you.

You could feel the volcano slowing down, which meant whatever Druig was doing was going to work. You wanted to open your eyes to see the cynical beauty of what was being done, but you weren’t quite sure if the Uni-mind worked in a way that would allow you to do so. However, the loud buzz you instantly recognized as Ikaris’ beam was heard, and you fell to the ground shortly after.

“I should have done this five centuries ago,” The gruff voice of deception brought your attention back to the world.

Your eyes snapped open in time to see Ikaris grab hold of Druig’s neck before he launched into the sky. You watched as he took the man you loved higher into the air; your hands twitching as you attempted to control your power and emotions. You felt your heart stop as Ikaris tossed Druig aside before blasting him to the ground.

“No,” You screamed through the blinding fear that hit your heart. You watched as the one person you had wanted for centuries was taken from you yet again, but this time there was no bringing him back. This time he was ripped away from you.

Makkari was quick to grab a hold of your falling body, pulling you into her as Ikaris drove the mind reader into the earth. You let out cries that would rival that of a banshee, gripping onto one of your dearest friends so tightly you’re sure it would break her arm had she not been who she was. She glanced down at you, and her eyes grew at the sight of your eyes flickering red and hands twitching with sparks of gold. She didn’t have much time to think about it before she had to move both you and Sersi out of the way of the destroyed ship. No one had time to notice the way the earth around them was now riddled with holes from the pieces you had subconsciously taken.

Your entire body kept twitching as it waited for you let go of your mental block; waiting for you to the one thing you swore you would never do again. It was beginning to be next to impossible to keep your breathing steady and your heart calm as pure rage replaced the fear that was previously running through your veins. You were itching to release all of your fury on the one who caused your greatest pain.

“Druig’s gone. It’s over.”

His voice struck a nerve that hadn’t been touched in centuries, and there was no coming back from it now. You felt yourself let go of the barriers you had spent so long building. Your emotions slammed into you at such a force that, if you weren’t so consumed with fury, it would have left you breathless.

Your friends were blown backwards as you finally let your powers overcome you. They watched stunned as you ascended into the air, your eyes glowing the brightest red they had ever seen with your fair fanned around your face as it defied all laws of gravity. Your hands were held out on your sides as tornadic winds surrounded you, items you had ripped away from their rightful places swirling in the area closest to you.

Your eyes stayed on the man before you, watching as he stood his ground and waited for you to make your move. He’s seen this side of you before, and he knows how it ended last time. Ikaris was not scared of you, but he should be.

You pushed your hands forward, urging everything you had gathered to hit the eternal with all you had. He managed to hit a few of the flying rocks, but you had managed to hit him from behind, catching him off guard. It wasn’t long after that you began throwing all you could at him, practically burying the man underneath boulders and various objects you had wrenched from the ocean. A part of you knew it wasn’t long until Ikaris would overpower you, but that wasn’t going to stop you from giving him all you could now.

Makkari felt it before anyone saw it coming. Ikaris burst through the rubble, eyes already focused on you with his deadly golden stream. You did your best to protect your body, but he was able to strike you on the left side of your stomach. With broken concentration, everything around you clattered back to the ground, along with your injured body. Makkari, however, was there to catch you before you even knew what had happened.

You slowly opened your eyes, and she was happy to see that they had returned to their natural color. “I got you,” She signed, gently placing you firmly on the ground, “Now it’s my turn.”

Her smirk was the last thing you saw before she sped away, your vision blurring as your head became so light you’re sure it was disconnecting from your body. Keeping your eyes open was becoming a task in its own. Even breathing was becoming too hard to do. You know that you had done too much, put far too much stress on your body in a short amount of time. After all, your powers had been virtually dormant for so long. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself fading away and Phastos’ shouts became so distant that you hardly heard them.

-

“Y/N,” Thena’s calm voice bounced around the darkness in your head, “Y/N, wake up. We’ve done it.”

You could feel everything slowly coming back to you, starting with the searing pain in your abdomen. The cool feeling of sand wound beneath your fingertips reminded you of where you were. It reminded you that Druig was gone, and a part of you wished that you never woke up.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

It sounded so much like him, but you knew better than to have hope that he somehow survived Ikaris’ rage. You have been disappointed far too many time to hold out any sort of wish that he was there. However, a large, calloused hand cupped your cheek and the feeling that spread throughout your bones could only be brought on by one person.

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N. Come back to me, love,” Druig whispered.

Your eyelids still felt so, so heavy, but you used all of your strength to open them. Bright blue eyes stared into your own, perfect lips forming your name as you slowly came back. His hands were on either side of your face, but his gaze softened considerably once he realized you were awake. He hastily pulled you into his chest, eliciting a light groan at the sudden contact with your wounded stomach.

“You’re alive,” You breathed out, tears threatening to spill over as your arms wrapped around his middle. “You’re alive.”

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” He said, slightly pulling away so he could place his forehead on your own.

The others watched as you two held each other like your lives depended on it. As if you were going to disappear. You could feel their stares, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Druig was here in front of you, and you weren’t going to let him go ever again. You lost him once because you were too scared, and you were never going to do that again. You’re tired of letting all things good slip through your fingers because of fear. With that, you pushed all fear and nerves aside and finally closed the gap that had been there for too long.

im not quite sure if i want to end it like this or make a much smaller last part yet? idk we shall see. again, please do not judge this too harshly. covid brain is real with this one. also, i only tagged those who asked to be tagged in pt 3 so im sorry if i didnt tag you :(

tags: @princessleah129 @aprilpari @sealswat908 @parkershoco @mochimochie @goldielocks2004 @erikaar @alainabooks143 @kravitzwhore

[theonewiththefanfics]

Thick And Thin (one-shot)

Synopsis: He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: aaaaaaannnnggggssssttt baby, just wanted to write something that’d rip your heart out :)

Warnings: swearing, pain, kinda depressive (??), can’t think of anything else really, but please let me know if there is, also not my best work lol :D

Word count: 7102 (let’s start off the New Year with loads of pain :) )

Italics are flashbacks

“I want a divorce.” 

           Never in Harry’s life did he think he’d have to hear those words. Not after everything they’d been through, not after all of the effort he’d been putting in to save their relationship.

           Those words had not only stunned him but their marriage councillor, the woman’s mouth open mid-word, as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Harry was fairing even worse. It was like his brain was short-circuiting, synapses broken and no longer sending any signals. 

           “Mrs Styles, I know it’s difficult,” the therapist tried to diffuse the situation. “But the reason you’re here is to avoid this specifically.”

           “I don’t remember how you smell anymore,” Y/N continued not listening to the woman, voice like a black void, but her Y/E/C eyes rimmed with tears. “Or taste. I don’t remember how it feels to have you pressed up against me or what it’s like to hear your voice. I… I don’t have anything to cling onto anymore.”

           “It’s why we're here!” he cried through clenched teeth, slipping on his knees before her, hands grasping Y/N’s in a vice-like grip. “It’s why we’re trying.”

           The laugh she let out was detached and without any love. “We tried it your way, Harry.” She’d never called him Harry before. It was always Lover. “And it’s not working for me. It hasn’t from the start. We’re… we’re so unhappy. And I don’t want that for you or for me. We deserve happiness. But I don’t think we can give that to one another anymore.” She took in a shaky breath, looking down at Harry’s hands in her lap. “When I thought of it, at first I felt horrible. I wanted to throw myself off somewhere, but the more I sat on that thought, the more relieved I felt.”

           He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. “Relieved?” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

           “Yes,” she nodded. “Relieved. Because this choice won’t make us hurt one another anymore. This gives us a chance to have a fresh start.”

           “I don’t want a fresh start! We said – we said through thick and thin.” He was grasping onto the last straw he could find. “This is the thin, but we’ll get through it.”

           “Harry, I already broke through the thin. And now I’m drowning. And when the thick comes, I’ll either be frozen under it and watch you walk further, or I’ll surface somewhere, and I don’t know on which side of the shore I’m gonna be on and where you’ll be. And if you try to get me, you’ll start drowning too. I don’t want that.”

           “But that’s what marriage is! Going through the tough shit together!”

“Harry… I already asked Lionel to draw up the papers. The first draft is done.”

           His blood froze in his veins.

           “When you said to sit down and write one thing that makes me happy about the relationship,” Y/N was looking at the therapist now, “about the person, I – I couldn’t. Because I kept thinking back to the start, to the beginning. That’s what made me happy. But now…” She glanced at Harry. “If there was one thing, I couldn’t do to you, not in a moment like this, is lie. I just… I don’t remember how to be happy with you.”

***

They’d started out as the cliché of best-friends-lose-contact-only-to-be-reunited-and-not-let-their-chance-pass-by-and-fall-in-love. She was ten when she’d moved in next door to him and he was twelve when he’d seen the three vans full up to the house, a little girl hopping out from one of them. Harry watched as she rushed up the doorstep and put in a key, unlocking it and a new chapter of her life with it. Little did he know she’d unlocked a new chapter of his life as well.

She was the new kid at school, and despite the fact that he was a year above, he sat down next to her at lunch.

“ ’M ‘arry,” he said through a mouthful of a sandwich. “Saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

And that was the start of a blooming friendship.

On her eleventh birthday, he gave her a handmade bracelet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, making Harry blush all shades of pink and red.

He was thirteen when he had his first real kiss on his birthday. Y/N had simply tried to peck him on the cheek, but he’d turned his head, and her mouth had ended up on his. She’d walked away with a shy smile and ears on fire.

She was thirteen when a boy first asked her out. Harry was the first person she told him about it. That was the first time his heart broke.

When he was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Y/N was fourteen when her heart broke for the first time.

           And then he'd gone on X-factor and with that forgotten about her. She called him, texted him, messaged him on social media, but usually, she’d maybe get only one picture or a small ‘miss you too’ as a response. So, after a whole year apart, she gave up. What was the point of trying to save anything when he didn’t want to?

           He moved on and became an international superstar. Y/N moved on and graduated top of her class, got into her first-choice university, and graduated with a first as well. He had some relationships here and there, while Y/N had had a steady relationship since the second year of uni, but when she decided to go to a different one for her masters they amicably broke up.

           Eight years later she was sitting at a café in London, laughing with her ex-boyfriend and catching up, as he explained how what Criminal Minds showed wasn’t really what was taught in his criminology degree classes.

           “I’m still saying I dated real-life Spencer Reid,” Y/N chuckled, sipping on her gingerbread latte. “Don’t give a shit, I need something to flex with.”

           Harry had then walked inside the café, shaking off the snow from his boots when a familiar laugh he hadn’t heard in ages invaded his senses. It was almost like he’d stepped into a dream. 

           When his green eyes befell on the owner of the voice, he had to take a double-take. Somehow in his brain, he’d expected the fifteen-year-old teenager, a t-shirt of his face on her body, as she’d cheered him on when he’d gone onto his first concert as part of One Direction to be sitting in the chair, not the grown-up woman.

           He’d still checked in with Y/N through what she posted on her social media, but as much as he’d promised not to have the celebrity life sweep him away, it had. Harry sometimes had two concerts a day, and he barely had a moment to take a bite of food. And he hated to admit it, but Y/N simply slipped from his life. And he didn’t bother to put in the effort to pull her back.

           A huge wave of guilt and longing rushed through his body as he glanced at the woman, her face lit up by joy as she and the man before her continued on with their conversation.

           Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him turn around and face another customer. “You gonna order anything?”

           For a moment Harry stuttered. He could walk away without inserting himself back into Y/N’s life, but he didn’t want that. He’d missed her. Harry didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her.

           “You go ahead.” He motioned with his hand. “I’m still thinking.”

           Harry took in a deep breath and then walked towards where the pair was sitting. 

           The man’s eyes flitted up to see who was towering over Y/N, only for them to widen, and his mouth hang open. 

A sense of pride filled Harry's chest at the reaction and maybe quenched a little bit of the jealousy invading his body. He used to be the one who made Y/N laugh until she had to tell him to stop or she’d pee herself. He was back to take up the role.

           “You okay there, Dan?” she chuckled. “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost behind my back. I told him not to walk out of the flat wit –“ Y/N had turned around and almost choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Harry! Oh – hi!” She jumped up hugging him, feeling how his body shook with laughter at her reaction, strong arms weaving around her middle. “Holy shit, it’s really you!”

           “Yeah, ‘s me. Who else?”

           “I didn’t know you were back in the UK.”

           A warmth spread through his chest, as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “Been checking in on me?”

           Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down, but pulling up a third chair for Harry to sit upon. “Dan’s a huge fan.” She motioned with her head to the man. “When we first started dating, I thought he was only doing it because we used to be friends, and he hoped I’d set you up or something.”

           Harry masked the choke of envy by clearing his throat and letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hope I’m not interrupting a date or something.”

           “A catch-up date, but not a date date.” Dan lifted his brows at Y/N, who gave him a ‘don’t start this’ look to which he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

           “You’re being annoying, that’s what you are.” Y/N flicked a crumb from the table towards him. 

           It was in that moment that it truly hit how much he’d missed, and it hit him hard he no longer knew the person who once was his best friend.

           “You’re different,” Harry said, looking over at her trying to keep the lump in his throat from making his voice break. 

           Y/N shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I mean it has been almost a decade. I do hope I don’t look the same as I did then. Otherwise, the pain of braces was of no use.”

           “No,” he chuckled shaking his head. “’S not that… It’s like you’re a different person.”

           “I grew up,” she said, sipping on the last bits of her drink. “ ’M not the same fifteen-year-old you saw last.”

           He nodded and bit his lip. But the thing was, Harry wasn’t the stupid sixteen-year-old that left the fifteen-year-old her either. This time, he wouldn’t let the chance at happiness pass him by when he could’ve had it all along. 

***

           He sat across from Y/N at the large marble table and watched, heart bleeding out in his chest as she put her signature on the papers, her attorney fishing out something from his briefcase and handing it to her under the table. He saw her shoulders shudder before she placed a maroon rectangle with a golden inscription on it in her own purse. Harry wanted to vomit. It was her new passport, where her surname no longer matched his, where he no longer existed, inscribed into the document as her spouse. 

           “Mr Styles?” Y/N’s lawyer pushed the papers his way, the pen laying atop them. “’S your turn.”

           ‘Your turn’, as if it was a game of spin the bottle or UNO. 

           “Don’t make me,” he choked out, pleading with Y/N one last time. “Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me give up on us.”

           Her words were worse than a knife to his soul. “You can’t give up on something that’s no longer there.”

           When they’d been at the stage of negotiation, he’d kept pushing for giving her at least half of his income, to give her one of the houses they owned together, but she’d turned everything down.

           “I didn’t marry you for your money, Harry.” He’d expected her voice to be full of venom, but it wasn’t. It was sad, resigned. “I don’t want what you’ve earned.”

           “Let me give you at least something.”

           “I don’t want anything from you. If it makes you feel any better, you can donate whatever amount you wanted to give me. I don’t care. All I want from this is for you to sign the papers.”

           “And if I can’t?”

           Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

           That’s when her attorney had cleared his throat. “Mrs Sty – Y/L/N. Legally, according to the prenup, you are entitled to half of Mr Styles estate as well as twenty percent of all his earnings.”

           But Y/N just shook her head. “I only signed those documents because that’s what he and his agent wanted. I never asked for it or anything or the sort. Donate it, for all I care. Buy a new house, Harry I literally don’t want to know what you do with your money.” Y/N took in a sharp breath and calmed herself down. It’d been the first time Harry had heard any sort of emotion from her since she'd spoken those horrible words. “I just want this over with.”

           And now, he was at the moment of the end. He just never thought their story would end with broken hearts and ripped up futures.

His handwriting was barely legible at best of times, but right now it seemed as if a toddler had tried to forge it with how much his hand shook. When the pen dropped, so did his shoulders, and he saw Y/N’s drop as well.

           Harry’s with weight from the love lost, Y/N’s with relief, for now their broken hearts wouldn’t hurt one another no longer.

           His lawyer handed him over a new passport as well, where Y/N was no longer written as his spouse. The urge to rip it to shreds was almost uncontainable. He hated it more than the divorce papers.

***

           They’d been dating for a little over two years when he decided to propose, only every plan he had was miserably ruined by some outside force.

           The first time he’d decided he’d do it at a romantic dinner. Harry had found out Y/N wasn’t a fan of huge romantic gestures, so he wouldn’t get on one knee and draw everyone’s attention. He’d simply take her hand in his, kiss her fingers and ask. 

           But as they’d sat at the table enjoying their meal and talking, he noticed Y/N become quieter and quieter. A frown morphed on his face.

           “You alright, Lovie?”

           “Umm,” Y/N’s brow creased even more, and she dropped her fork. “I umm I don’t know. ‘M feeling kind of funky?”

           “What’dya mean?”

           “I – “ Y/N opened her mouth but didn’t manage to get anything else out as she jumped up and rushed towards the ladies room.

           Harry quickly dropped his own utensils and rushed after her, not bothering with the yells of the woman who was looking at herself in the mirror, while his girlfriend threw up her guts inside one of the toilets.

           A member of the staff had run to see what all the commotion was about, but when he saw Y/N half inside a stall, half outside, Harry’s hands keeping her hair away from her face, he went back out and immediately grabbed the first aid kit they had in the kitchen, handing it to Harry along with a cold wet towel.

           Y/N shuddered, leaning against the stall wall sweat glistening on her face, as he pressed the damp cloth against her skin. She gave him half a smile. “Told you not to get the shrimp.”

           “I’ll get the cab, Lovie.” He smoothed away the once meticulously styled hair, which was now stuck to her damp skin. 

           But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

           “Why?”

           “Because I’m about to puke again.”

           In the end, she threw up two more times, her stomach really not agreeing with the entrée. The waiters kept apologising the whole time, and the chef had stopped cooking, the restaurant immediately taking action and refunding everyone who’d ordered anything with shrimps in them.

           When they’d gotten back home, Y/N was so tired and felt so sick, Harry could only help her get out of the dress, clean her up with a warm towel and wrap her up in her favourite pyjamas before curling up together on his bed and falling asleep, making sure if there was a moment, she felt nauseous again, he was by her side. She needed his help more than he needed to propose.

***

           He threw himself into his work like a madman. Day and night, he was either at a studio, on a filming lot, in between meetings or interviews. The media buzzed about how his marriage had fallen apart, even though Y/N hadn’t made a statement or spoken a word to anyone, and neither had Harry. But he guessed the emptiness of his ring finger gave everything away.

           He refused, however, to speak on it. As painful as it was, he was still in love with Y/N. She hadn’t chosen to be in the spotlight, it was Harry’s world, not hers, so he respected her decision to be quiet and remained so himself, save for one single post his management had asked for him to put up. It'd also been the last time he'd spoken to her.

All he received was a simple text message 'do what you have to do'.

           A couple of months down the line though, something came up, and Harry couldn’t keep his tongue behind his teeth.

           It was an article in The Sun, a photograph of Y/N plastered all over the front page with the words ‘Gold-digger Y/L/N finally seen out after divorce with Harry Styles.” He’d snatched the paper right off the stand and flipped it open, frantic green eyes scanning the words.

           ‘Despite it only being two months since the two childhood ex-best friends broke up, Y/N Y/L/N was already seen in the company of a man, sharing a drink, and giving one another flirtatious smiles. An inside source tells us, how she hadn’t even been that upset about the divorce and has been going out and having fun with many male companions, one of them being her ex-boyfriend from university times.’ 

           ‘Harry Styles, known for his time in the pop boyband One Direction and for his solo endeavours in music as well as dabbling in acting, broke everyone’s belief in true love after being seen in public without a ring. This prompted an announcement that the four-year relationship and two-year marriage to who was once his best friend had ended and the two had decided to get a divorce. Although the post showed a picture of their silhouettes holding one another with their foreheads together, and his statement showed nothing but love and respect for his then-wife, sources say Y/N had been controlling and obsessive over her then-husband and hadn’t wanted him to leave to pursue his career, stifling his growth.’

           He didn’t bother to read any further, as he pulled out his phone, calling Jeff immediately to figure out how to make all of it go away, how to do at least one thing right.

           “They’re dragging her name through the mud!” he sneered, not even caring he was bumping shoulders with people, and if the paparazzi would dare spin a story of the state he was in at that moment, he’d sue each and every one of them personally. “I have to do something. Fuck, Jeff, I love her! I can’t let them paint her like this. Y/N – “ he choked back a lump. “She never asked for this. Didn’t ask for anything. And that man – that was Dan, okay. I know him. Yes, he’s her ex, but they don’t know anything!”

           “Harry I’ve sent them cease-and-desist letters already.” Jeff tried to ease him. “But… she’s no longer your concern Har.”

           The words hit him like a bullet and ripped a hole in his chest just like one of them would. “You might still love her,” Jeff’s voice was solemn. “But Y/N is no longer yours to protect.”

           “I can’t just let them talk shit about her,” Harry whispered back.

           His friend sighed on the other side of the line. “I know. Which is why we’ll deal with it. But you have to start letting her go.”

***

The second time Harry wanted to propose was about a month later, and Christmas was right around the corner. They’d decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with his sister, her boyfriend and Anne, while Christmas Day they’d go to Y/N’s side of the family. 

Although they’d settled on one gift each, Harry had been carrying around that small box for what felt like an eternity. And it wouldn’t really be a gift, given how he’d wrap it and hang it in the tree.

“It’s an ornament,” he’d say to her, a smug smile on his lips, as Y/N would roll her eyes at him. “Just because it has your name on it, doesn’t mean it’s immediately a present.”

And then she’d open it, and would gasp, and Harry would slide down on his knee, press a kiss to her ring-free finger before asking that fateful question. 

But just like before, his plan didn’t come to fruition. 

           He’d asked his mother to hang up the little box, so there was no chance of Y/N seeing it in his hands, but what he hadn’t thought of was Gemma’s boyfriend had decided on the exact same plan of action.

           When Michal had dropped down on his knee, Harry’s sister’s trembling hand in his, he couldn’t do that to them. As much as he wanted to marry Y/N, he couldn’t take away Gemma’s moment. So while Y/N was preoccupied with looking at the gleaming diamond on Gemma’s finger, Harry plucked down the box from where it’d hung and placed it on the side no one could see, before he could put it in his bag.

           “ ’M sorry, honey,” Anne had said to him over coffee the next morning. “I didn’t know Michal would do that.”

           He’d just shaken his head, no hurt in his heart. “Great minds think alike. Our moment will come. ‘M happy for Gem. Besides, if he hadn’t done that anytime soon, I would’ve needed to have a stern talking.” 

***

           What his sister said to him made him think he had to be living in a simulation, because it couldn’t be true. Y/N couldn’t be getting married. Not this soon. Not ever. Not to someone who wasn’t him. It had been barely a year since he’d signed the death sentence to his own happiness.

           Harry shook his head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying, Gem.”

           “I’m not.” Her voice broke as she said it. “I saw her at a café. Saw the ring… the man who gave it to her. Harry, I’m so sorry.”

           His mind reeled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. Was that why she’d really divorced him? Had she been cheating on him and just needed an excuse out of their relationship to jump into the new one? He was away so much on their relationship, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone else had swooped in and tried to win her heart.

Harry’s mind was one of the greatest things he’d been blessed him, but also one of the worst curses bestowed upon him, as it weaved a story of Y/N and the man who’d now put a gleaming ring on her finger.

           He was away, like always, doing something he could do another time. She was on her own, keeping their bed warm with just her body, fighting for their relationship on her own, while he made plans once more to go to a different part of the world and leave her behind again.

           Y/N pulled herself out of the bed, sighing and rubbing her face. She opened their closet only to be greeted with Harry’s half empty. Maybe that was the moment she decided to find someone who’d fill it and wouldn’t leave it permanently empty, Harry conjured up.

           She’d dress in a soft jumper and some jeans, a large cardigan hanging over her body and would go to a café for her morning drink. And that’s where she’d meet him. The stranger that would take her out of the lonely life she’d been living. The stranger that would make a smile bloom on her face and her heart stutter once more. The stranger who would show her the love Y/N deserved to have.

           Harry had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts before they ventured into a worse territory.

           No. Y/N wasn’t like that. No matter what, she would never cheat on him. She had enough dignity for herself and respect for him, even though in his own mind, Harry didn’t think he deserved it. 

           Although he didn’t have a right to, nor was it the sanest move (and if someone saw him doing it, there would probably be a slew of articles), Harry got into his car and drove to where Y/N’s apartment was, and when she opened the door after hearing seven loud knocks, he stepped inside without even waiting for her to invite him. 

           “You’re getting married?”

           She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your concern.”

           “It’s been barely a year! I refuse to believe you’ve moved on so fast.”

           Maybe he was kidding himself, and Y/N truly had, but as much as their marriage had fallen apart, he did have the honour of having known her and having figured some things out deeper than others would.

           Y//N scoffed. “I was proposed to. And I said yes.” The words were like venom entering his veins. “If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have agreed to it. And as I already said – it is none of your concern.”

           Harry stood there, watching as she dragged a hand down her face, eyes flitting everywhere he wasn’t. It told him everything he needed to know.

           “You’re not happy,” he whispered stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I know how you shine when you’re truly happy. This isn’t it. Why are you doing this?”

           “That doesn’t matter.”          

           Harry was so confused, at a complete loss at what Y/N was saying. “So, you’ll what? Get married to him and be miserable? Why the hell did you divorce me then?”

Y/N sighed. “Being unhappy with him isn’t as unbearable as being unhappy with you. Because with you, I know what it feels like to truly fully loved. Which is why it broke me when you stopped.”

           “I never stopped!” Harry whisper yelled, anger coursing through his veins at her words, because they were lies. “Why do you think I dragged us to marriage counselling? Why do you think I kept fighting for us? For you?! You were the one that gave up!” 

           “You weren’t there when I needed you.” 

           Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding what she meant.

           “You left me for ten years. You forgot all about me until that day at the café. Not once did you message me or call me or even send fucking snail mail. I was the one putting in all the effort, I was the one who was trying to keep you in my life, but you didn’t want it. Just like it was when we were married.”

           Rage bubbled under the surface, but he kept it at bay. That was not how he’d get Y/N back. “How?” he asked calmly. “How did I not want it?”

She scoffed shaking her head. “It was the same as it was ten years ago. With the movie, the new album... You were always at the studio or hanging out with your castmates. When I asked for you to free up one night, one single night, you didn’t come back until three AM, drunk off your ass, and I had to take care of you. I asked for one night. And you didn’t even give me that. So forgive me for not feeling like you still loved me.”

           “Why didn’t you talk to me then?!”

           “I did!” This was the first time he’d ever heard Y/N yell, before kneading her lips tightly together and then continuing more quietly. “But you never heard me. Not really. You heard what I asked, and promised to be there, but when the time came… something more important always came up. Something that always deserved to have the promise you gave me to be broken.” Y/N gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember when you first asked me out? And I said no?”

           Harry nodded. “You said that we just got one another back and didn’t want to have anything rip us apart again. Didn’t even want to chance it.”

           “And you said it was exactly why I should give us a chance. That we’d finally found one another again and shouldn’t let the opportunity go…” She tilted her head. “Guess we should’ve listened to me. I included.”

           He couldn’t believe her. “Is that really your takeaway here? You were right?”

           “But I was.” Y/N shrugged. “Look at where we are now. You forgot me for basically ten years.” She shrugged, stepping away. “Give it some time, and you’ll forget me for the rest of your life. Besides, we’ve not known one another longer than we have. So, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

           “Why did you then? Go out with me?” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Get married to me?”

           For a moment Y/N just looked at him, Y/E/C eyes boring into his green ones. “Because I’d once again convinced myself I was important to you, just like I did when we were teens. And in my head, I had dreamt up that maybe I’d be important enough for you not to forget me.”

***

The third time did the charm though.

           They were both sleepy, under the covers of Harry’s bed, eyes barely keeping open as they were determined to finish Elf.

           Y/N had her cheek pressed against his chest, bare body next to his naked one. She hated sleeping in pyjamas (unless they were staying over at one of their parent’s places,) because she said it made her feel like the clothes were suffocating her. Harry didn’t like sleeping with pyjamas because all he wanted was to fully feel the skin of his lover next to his. 

           Snow fell behind the large windows of his London penthouse apartment, covering the city in a white blanket. It rarely snowed there, so he watched with warmth in his heart as the flakes fluttered to the ground.

           It was all so calm, so serene, that Harry realised that’d been the moment he’d been waiting for. No need for fancy dinners or present it as a loud gift. Being together was a gift enough.

           “Lovie?” he asked, nose hidden in her hair. “You awake?”

           All he received in answer was a small hum. She was on the verge of passing out, but this was the moment, so, he whispered the question, voice so low as if he was asking the dark to marry him not Y/N.

           He couldn’t look at her, afraid of what she might say, afraid she might say no, think back to the times he wasn’t there for her, think of all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her, and would only bring her sorrow. 

           “Lover.” Her voice was as soft as a summer’s morning. “Look at me. Please.”

           It was one of the most frightening things in his life, as he did so. 

           Y/E/C eyes met green. What he saw on her face allowed his heart to calm down a little.

           “Is the Sun the closest star to us?”

           That he hadn’t expected. “What?”

           “Does it rise in the East and set in the West?”

           “Y-yes?”

           Her hand cupped his cheek, and he melted against her. “Then why are you asking me a question you know the answer will be the same as to those?”

           “Can I put the ring on your finger then?” He was more excited than about anything in his life.

           Y/N shook her head, bringing his lips to brush against hers. “Don’t need a ring. Just need you to kiss me.”

***

           The wedding was far away from the city so that no one from the press could even think about following her or her entourage. The guest list was small, compared to the three hundred people Harry’s and her wedding had had.

           Anne had told him not to go. He wasn’t invited, and neither was she or Gemma, for obvious reasons. As much as Y/N loved them, she knew it’d hurt the two women, but it would hurt Harry more. So seeing her stepping out of the car, dressed in a cream wedding gown, a veil covering her face, made flashbacks appear behind Harry’s eyelids.

           She’d worn an off-white gown before as well, dusty rose to be exact. And Harry’s bow tie had matched it. Y/N had never liked the thought of wearing white at her wedding. 

           “Listen, if it’s white, I’ll most definitely spill something on it,” she’d told him as both of them had been flipping through some wedding magazines. “You know me. But if it’s some other colour, there’s a bigger chance no one will notice when that happens.”

           It didn’t seem right to him. It was like a bad fever-dream like he’d had that one time, and Y/N had had to listen to him babble about the hallucinations dancing in front of him because of the high temperature.

           Her gaze remained on the ground, or maybe on the bucket of white roses in her hands. She hated white roses.

           A woman in a pale blue dress straightened out the back of Y/N’s dress and the train of it, and he watched as her mother came to stand beside her daughter, giving her an elbow to grasp onto.

           All he wanted was for Y/N to be happy, and it hurt to think it wasn’t with him because Harry believed it was supposed to be him. 

           He took in a shaky breath and got out of the car just as Y/N had walked up the steps and disappeared behind the double doors.

           It was going to be him.

***

Harry knew he wasn’t the best husband in the world. He was away for a lot of time, and as conceited of an excuse it was, his job did entail going out to parties, mingling with other people living the high life, and being seen with certain celebs.

           Y/N was never one for it. She always supported Harry, but she didn’t like going out and spending time with people who didn’t care for her existence. Well, maybe they did, but only in a sense that she’d been the lucky bitch who’d snagged up the Harry Styles.

           But if there was something Harry did was love, and he loved wholeheartedly, which is why it absolutely destroyed him when he’d gotten back home one evening and heard Y/N crying in their bathroom.

           She’d never tell him, but it was because no longer did his pillow smell like him. Harry had been away for so long, that the essence of him that’d soaked into their sheets was no longer there. And it broke her to pieces.

           When he’d get home, he’d be so tired, he’d crash on the couch, only tiptoeing his way into their shared room to go to his closet and get some clean clothes in the morning. He’d look over at his sleeping wife and allow a blissful smile to bloom on his face at the sight.

           He was so lucky to have Y/N back in his life. He was so lucky she’d accepted him and fallen for him as he’d fallen for her. He’d silently move over and press a kiss to her temple, before going back down and off to work once more. Only he wouldn’t see the dried tears on her cheeks.

           So, when he’d found her curled up in the tub, hands in her hair, face hidden by her knees, frame trembling like leaves in a storm, he instantly dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his bones, as he pulled Y/N into him.

           “I can’t, Harry,” she choked out, shaking her head. He knew it was bad. She never called him by his name. “I can’t do this. I’m so alone. Even when you’re here, I’m alone.”

           Harry had had his heart broken before, and always he wondered afterwards if someone took it out of his chest at that moment, what kind of a sound would it make. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d be as silent as the tears running down his face at Y/N’s confession.      

           “Maybe,” he swallowed harshly trying to keep his whole body from shaking, from showing the fear her statement instilled in him. “Maybe we need couple’s therapy.”

           “What?” her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of the forehead.

           “Y/N, we’re clearly having problems. I – I know I need to work on things, but you’re also not telling me how you’re feeling. Maybe we just need some help.”

           She didn’t really know what to respond. In her mind, Y/N had somehow conjured up an image that if she ever got married, they’d be happy. Sure, they’d fight and have rows, but they’d always be able to work things out on their own. Not once in her life, did she ever think she’d need to go and see a marriage counsellor to help her save her marriage.

           Her own parents much like Harry’s had gotten divorced. Hers had tried therapy. It’d been their last resort. It didn't work. So, when he’d mentioned it to her, that’s what made her decide it was truly over. 

           Y/N nodded, bringing him in for a hug, and felt his body melt into hers with relief.

She’d try, for Harry, but her mind was already made up.

***

           So he stood outside the doors, listening for the line of ‘if there is anyone who opposes this union speak up now, or forever hold your peace’. His hand grasped the handle, ready to push, but… he couldn’t. He’d ruined her happy ever after once before. He couldn’t do that again to her.

           Tears streamed down his face as he pocketed his hands and ventured away from the ceremony. The ceremony where the love of his life was promising to cherish someone else, to fight through thick and thin with someone else, to make someone else happy, while her own happiness suffered.

           Harry sat in his car, waiting for her to exit, a smile on her face as she’d hold the hand of who now was her husband. That'd be the moment he'd let go of her. But when the doors sprung open, she was alone, hands clutching onto the front of her dress, as she rushed down the steps and back inside the car she’d arrived in.

           For a second he sat in his vehicle, stunned beyond belief at what had happened, at what, as horrible as it sounded, he hoped had happened. When a man, hand in his hair ran outside as well, the same woman in the pale blue dress rushing out with him, Harry knew.

           He was basically a madman on the road, breaking almost every possible law as he tried to catch up to the car Y/N had jumped in. 

           His mind raced with the possibilities of where she could’ve gone. The airport, her family’s summer house in Winchester, honestly anywhere in the world, but Harry shut up his mind, and allowed his heart to make the decision.

           It didn’t seem like Y/N had premeditated fleeing from her wedding, which meant she’d need her stuff. And that meant going to her apartment as quickly as possible before someone came to look for her.

           The way he parked was probably illegal leaving the car basically in the middle of the road, but Harry didn’t care much as he frantically rushed up the steps of her apartment complex. He was scared that if he knocked, she wouldn’t open, thinking it might be someone from the wedding, but he didn’t need to be afraid of it, as he saw Y/N, her hair still styled as it had been for the ceremony, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a suitcase in hand exiting from the flat.

           “Why didn’t you do it?” he breathlessly asked, startling her and making her drop the keys.

           Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What are you doing here?”

           Harry stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek, insides trembling from all of the emotions coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you do it? Marry him? Why didn’t you say yes?”

           “I – “ Y/N choked on her words. “I couldn’t say yes. It didn’t feel right.”

           “Why?”

           “Because it wasn’t you, I was saying yes to.”

           That was all Harry needed to kiss her like he'd done once before. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d made that mistake twice. He would never repeat it again.

           “I love you,” he cried through a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And I’m never letting you slip through my fingers ever again.”

           “How can you even think about loving me again after what I did to us?” she asked, pulling away from his lips.

           Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re talking like I ever stopped. Through thick and thin. It’s what we promised. Think and thin, my Lovie."

***

           A sixteen-year-old Harry and a fifteen-year-old Y/N laid outside in the grass of Harry’s garden; eyes trained onto the dark night starlit sky above. It was the day before his life changed forever as did hers.

           “Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry asked, trying to catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

           Y/N scrunched up her nose. “No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I want one.”

           “Why not?”

           “What if they’re old and in their thirties? Or dead?”

           Harry snorted at her response.

           “And you?” Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?

           He bit his lip and nodded. “I think I do. I think it’s two people who’ve been brought together, and no matter what happens will find their way to one another. Through thick and thin.”

"And what if one of them breaks the other's heart?"

"That's the thin." He looked at her. "And you don't give up then. It's when you need to love them even more."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: Happy 2021 everyone! Hopefully things are better this year, and everyone stays safe and sound.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my fics on other platforms without specific written permission. Reblogs are a okay :)

[sharoscylla]

Feeling nostalgic! The first picture is more than a year old but I did the other three over the past couple of days. Senne (pink haired half elf) was the first really major long term RP character I ever had, more than 20 years ago on an IRC text+dicebot game called InterCity RPG. I remember it as an impossibly cool setting - everything I liked about Snow Crash plus high fantasy bullshit like orcs and elves and magic, it was my first exposure to roleplaying and I credit it with inspiring me to be a writer today, lol. And Senne was my longest running character, I picked her up literally the day school let out freshman year of high school and played her until the entire game shut down the summer after my senior year. She started out as a homeless teenager with unusual ninja skills (which, my painstakingly made geocities page explained, was a ruse: she had been infected with a nanomachine vampire virus (this was a thing that could happen in the game) when she was 13 years old and had been an assassin for decades, emigrating to the walled city the game was based in as an incredibly mentally ill 70 year old.)

She got cured of the virus, got to grow up, and started making a life for herself apart from her bloody and horribly abused past (except for when hired assassins and grieving sons/grandsons of her former targets hunted her down) and when the game ended she’d been building up a set of skills and connections and even became a bigger part of the community in general, known for being generally reliable when things REALLY mattered and a huge flake the rest of the time haha. She would have been “17/18” when the game ended, and was growing into a complete badass.

Over the almost 20 years since then, there HAVE been a few people who stayed in contact - some of us played together for a few more years in its spiritual successor, an IRC game called New Reno (a fallout 2 game, natch) and then THAT game’s spiritual successor (Signal to Noise, based of one of my friend’s novel.) Unfortunately my life fell apart and I ghosted all of my friends in a depressive fugue, which makes sense considering what was happening in my life at the time, but I’ve always regretted it.

Well, in the meantime, one of the players from IC has been trying, over the last decade, to get people to come back together and pick back up: 20 years later in-game, with a 20 year war with the forces of hell (this was a thing that happened often in the game) going on, as older/wiser/more traumatized versions of our characters tried to put things right with the new generation. It didn’t wholly pan out - gameplay lasted maybe two and a half months, tops- but I got to reflect on what Senne did in the intervening years, and the character I made to play as a blank slate - Jonah Grimaldi, Senne’s adopted son who died in front of her and was brought back as a cyborg though a combination of a terrible abuse of magic and Faustian deals with evil roboticists - became the jumping off point for Best Boy Grim The Clown.

Before he was Grim the Cyborg Clown, though, he was Grim the Youngest Son, Grim the Dancer and Boxer and Flirt, Grim who learned magic at his new mother’s knee and made lightning dance from finger to finger before sending it through the bodies of whoever his Mum told him to hit. He couldn’t do magic anymore as a cyborg, but he couldn’t remember having ever wanted to do it - his cyborg brain is an incomplete scan of his dying meatbrain, and most of what he knows about himself is what his family thinks they remember about him.

Anyway, Senne ended up starting a courier service to take care of these kids she adopted (stole after rescuing) and eventually ended up becoming a mob boss who mostly did lots of horrifying things in order to protect and preserve the lives of the people living in her neighborhood, and Grim ended up, very briefly, becoming the kind of hero for hire she used to be. :)

[shitty-alternate-universes]

the shittiest thing about this AU is how much time I've spent thinking about it.

MCYT (lol mostly DSMP) "School for people with superpowers" AU. (I'm thinking vaguely along the lines of X-Men.) Let's call the school L'Manberg Academy, or LMA for short.

Jardon "Captain Sparklez" Maroon got his nickname because at first, all his powers could muster were a few sparkles. He eventually worked his way up to powerful energy beams, and went on to become a legendary hero, before retiring to be a teacher at LMA. He was the Headmaster of LMA 20-ish years ago, when Dream, Techno, George, Sapnap, Phil, and Karl were students there. He's mostly retired from that, too, but he's still more than happy to fill in for a teacher who has other engagements.

Dream Wastaken has the mutant ability to alter probability. He diligently practiced this ability, and by his last year of school, Techno was the only person who ever beat him at anything. Since his years at LMA, he has continued developing and refining his power, and eventually gained godlike power by manipulating probability at the quantum level. He is now LMA's headmaster, but for some reason his old friends George and Sapnap now want nothing to do with him. Is he up to something that only they know about?

George Notfound's power is invisibility. He, Dream, and Sapnap were inseparable when they were teenagers. He denies having dated Dream. Not much else is known about him.

Skeppy Ahmed is a mutant with diamond skin, which as a side effect means he ages slowly- he is around 70 years old, but has the body of a 20something, and (seemingly) the mind of a reckless, mischievous teenager. Decades ago, he summoned the demon BadBoyHalo, just for the fun of it.

BadBoyHalo is a power-hungry demon, but thankfully, he mainly seeks power in Hell, not Earth. The main reason he visits Earth at all is to visit his friend Skeppy and his son, Sapnap. It is not known why he hates curse words so much.

(way more bios under the keep-reading)

Sapnap Halo has the ability to drain lifeforce from living things into himself. His powers derive from his demonic heritage and not a mutant gene, but he went to LMA anyways, because where else would you send a kid with superpowers? During his school years he would often kill other kids' pets by draining their life force, though as he got older he grew to be more mature than that.

Karl Jacobs' mutant ability allows him to teleport, but he rarely uses it as it messes with his memory. He can also time travel, but he tries not to as it misses with his memory even more, and he has very little control over it. He keeps his time travelling a secret, even from his husbands, because his future self told him to. He is LMA's main history teacher.

Alexis Quackity is a normal human who lives with his husbands Sapnap and Karl. (Well, they call each other husbands, but none of them are legally married, since the law does not allow polygamy.)

Technoblade's mutation gave him pink skin and a pig-like face, as well as enhanced strength and a powerful healing factor which makes him essentially unkillable. When he was young, his parents were murdered by an anti-mutant hate group and he was forced to fight other mutants, some of them hardened adults, but no fighter stood a chance against the kid who was known only by the nickname he gave himself: Technoblade. When the fighting ring was busted, Philza's parents took Techno in, and he attended LMA. He was later expelled after violently killing his parents' murderers. After this, he became a fugitive, spending much of his time with Phil and Skeppy, the only two people he trusts.

Philza Minekraft's mutant ability gave him a set of wings. Despite having such a non-combat-centric power, he was (and still is) a very adept fighter. He was Techno's only friend in school, and they still would die for each other. He secretly wonders if he's a bad father to his sons Wilbur and Tommy, and his foster sons Fundy and Ranboo.

Wilbur S. Minekraft is an LMA student who can phase through solid objects. He's a straight-A student and a decent musician. He aspires to do great things with his life, although he is scared of what Fundy says he will become.

Fundy Minekraft, due to his mutation, looks like an anthropomorphic fox, but hates being called a furry. He claims to be Wilbur's son from the future. (Neither Karl nor Fundy nor anyone else knows whether Karl had anything to do with this.) Since he has no way of returning to his home time, he lives with his family and attends LMA. He says Wilbur was not just a bad father, but a terrorist and mass murderer, yet he doesn't seem to care enough to try and prevent Wil from becoming that person.

Tomothy I. Minekraft is the youngest kid in his household. He tested positive for the mutant gene, even on tests that essentially never produce false positives, but has not shown any sign of superpowers. He constantly tells other LMA students that his powers will kick in any day now and will be way better than everyone else's, but he's really just trying to reassure himself. He doesn't really have any friends outside of his family, and Tubbo.

Ranboo Live is an LMA student who can teleport. He also seems to have some level of reality manipulation powers, but so far the extent of these are unknown. His memories from before Phil took him in are hazy, leading some to suspect that teleportation negatively affects his memory, much like Karl. Other students seem convinced that Mr. Wastaken shows favoritism toward him, but they neither know nor care why.

Tubbo Underscore is Tommy's best friend, and has the ability to talk to animals. More so than most, he has a deep admiration for Captain Sparklez, and is always delighted when the Captain teaches at LMA.

[valentinesparda]

👁💋👁 tell me about ur t&b insert I GOTTA KNOW!!!!

@emberpries SORRY I HAD TO CLOSE UP AT WORK AND EAT DINNER and then i like straight up forgot because i was so tired orz

so as of right now my ideas are:

nurse with dr pepper branding deal obv. 23 flavors of healing

probably going to be a former idol but it wasn't because they wanted to be one, it was pretty forced upon them by their mom and dad (musician or music producer), so they became relatively famous that way but once they grew out of being an idol they became a model and hero pretty much full-time

seeing as this happens, they end up taking up a mentor position to karina when she becomes the new idol and they support her wholeheartedly, they even work together!!

most likely best friends with nathan!! both lovely red and pink themed enby pals, they're sponsored by nathan's company helios after being dropped by their original sponsor, so they align themselves pretty similarly in ideals, aesthetics, and in some cases personality lol

often get mistaken for being younger than they actually are by about a decade even though they have gray hairs already (due to stress and using their powers)

my insert is struck with a memory disorder and a body injury that has left them using a cane on their worst days outside of hero work which is entirely also based on their abilities and them backfiring

I'm looking at giving them healing abilities but at the cost of their own life force so to speak, they're just really good at hiding it, and they will probably use some sort of large gun strapped to their back as a "conduit" for their healing abilities but i think that the healing will be a small part of what their actual powers are

uhhhh i will figure out more things later anyways *points* sexy enby nurse.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 8

Summary:  You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 2K+

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hola!!!! Hope everyone is safe at home! This continues the story as a some sort of a series re-write. It won’t be something of all the episodes but the main ones of where Spooky appears. Hope you guys like this and always feel free to leave some feedback is so appreciated it.

This was supposed to be posted for Valentine's day but life happens and I ended up finishing this chapter 3 months later... lol

| MESSAGE BOX | HAPPY READING!!!

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

Title:  Happy Valentine's Day

Chapters: Uno - Dos - Tres - Cuatro - Cinco - Seis - Siete

Six years have passed since you spent Valentine's day with Oscar. The memories of the last one brought a lot of good and mischief feelings to your soul. He had just inherited his father's beautiful red car. Memories of the week prior to the festivities, all he talked about him taking you for a day trip to Santa Monica. A chuckle filled the space as you remembered when you both got caught having a making out section by the beach.

“What are you giggling about mamas?” Oscar’s deep voice brought you back to the present.

You turned around standing in the middle of the bathroom doorway, seeing him sitting by the edge of the bed. He was wearing a black tank and his khaki dickies. Leaning against the door frame with your electric pink toothbrush on hand you gazed at him and took the brush out to speak.

“I was reminiscing about our last Valentine's day together…” you smirked before placing the tooth brush inside your mouth.

Oscar instantly chuckled, “Santa Monica wasn’t ready for those dos traviesos teenagers.”

You took the brush out, turning back to spit out the toothpaste foam and have some water. “Those?” You said leaving the toothbrush on the counter and walked back to the room and stood in front of Oscar. He looked up, his hazel eyes piercing yours. “Baby we are still dos traviesos,” you said before kissing him.

He followed your lead within seconds, letting his body fall back on the bed. You continued kissing his hips as his hands traveled your body. “You got time?” Your eyes were looking at his as your hands were on his belt.

“Para ti? All the fucking time,” he smirked and then continued kissing him.

The morning activities had woken up a hunger for both of you. Oscar was speaking with some homies on the phone as you cooked scrambled eggs with bacon. They had some runs to make but deeply you hoped those didn’t take long. Out of nowhere the thought of Caesar crossed your mind and that you never heard him come home last night.

“Hey, have you seen-,”

Your words were cut by Caesar himself busting inside the house yelling.

“Hey! Hey! There’s a dude posted up outside!’

In a matter of seconds Oscar stood from the chair, grabbed the gun from on top of the counter and stormed outside. Your heart began to bump so fast, scared for both of them.

Quickly you grabbed the phone and began dialing Sad Eyes as you peeped from the window and instantly recognized who that man was.

“Oh shit,” you said, putting the phone down. Mr. Diaz has been in jail for almost a decade. You haven’t seen him since middle school when he got locked up. Oscar aura changed completely at the sight of his father. When he turned his body, you saw it on his eyes, he wasn’t happy his father was back. Mr. Diaz grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and crossed the street making his way towards the house.

“Babe?” You called him as he walked in. “When - How?”

Oscar shook his head groaning, “I have no fucking clue.”

You stood by the kitchen watching Mr. Diaz cautiously walk inside the house. His eyes roamed every inch of the space but when he spotted you, his eyes disappeared because of the big smile he gave you.

“Y/N,” he said.

You smiled back, “Hey Mr. Diaz…”

“I can see you two still together… Good.” He said looking at Oscar and you.

You smile awkwardly, “Yeah…”

Mr. Diaz picked up the awkwardness of the moment but decided to ignore it by walking around the kitchen and living room area. He admired the house as if it was an old museum.

You decided to walk around the living room and sit next to Oscar who was already sitting on the sofa with Caesar. You were right in the middle of the two brothers.

“So when did you get out?” Caesar asked, his voice had the tone of a 3 year old excited kid.

“Yesterday,” Mr. Diaz replied, still contemplating the house, “Looks kind of the same…” he said looking around, “doesn’t smell the same tho.”

You smiled proudly at his comment, “That would be my doing.“

“You live here?” He asked you.

Your eyes felt Oscar staring, it was obvious how he felt about his father being out of prison. He didn’t want him here but looking at his father, you really didn’t think he cared what Oscar thought or not. “Yeah.” You looked at your boyfriend. “I’ve added a couple things,” your sight went back to Mr. Diaz, “you know a bit of a female touch.”

“That’s good,”’he sat down across from the sofa. Mr. Diaz's eyes were locked on Oscar before switching them to his younger son. “You in school?” His Mexican accent was heavy and distinguished.

“Of course he is,” Oscar replied for his younger brother.

He looked at his older son, “How about you? Going to college?”

You saw Oscar raise an eyebrow, not believing the question he just got asked.

“Seriously?” Oscar said with unbelief.

“It's nice to see you,” Caesar told his dad, who just answered with a nod as he took a drag off his cigarette. “Do you have plans?”

“No,” he said, “just wanted to see you guys before I go to Bakersfield. Got a job lined up.”

“Caesar, you need to get to school,” Oscar said with his tone firm. You watched Caesar trying to give his older puppy eyes to let him stay but they didn’t work on him. Instead he rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag.

He was about to leave when he turned around. Caesar's body shook as he tried to figure out how to talk to his father. “Hey... Do you maybe I don’t know… wanna hang? After school?”

“Sure,” Mr. Diaz replied without much emotion.

Not being facial expressive in this family, the male Diaz didn’t show much emotion or even spoke much for that matter. You watched how Caesar smiled happily, for years Oscar was the only father figure to him. Meanwhile Oscar never really had a father figure.

“So where are you staying?” Oscar asked his father once his brother was out of the house.

He looked at his son replying before taking another dragg. “Here.”

In that moment Oscar stood up from the couch, you could feel how pissed off he was. You watched him walk towards the bedroom, leaving you alone with Mr. Diaz.

“He hates me,” he said with his voice low.

Another thing he had in common with his son was that his eyes spoke a thousand words.

You didn’t know how to speak to him or what to say, last time you saw this man was in 9th grade. “He-,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know if he hates you or not… it's been years and honestly we haven’t talked about you in the past months.”

“Months?” he arched an eyebrow confused, “you two were inseparable when kids thought you were together all these years.”

“Not really,” you said standing up, “we broke up well-,” you shrugged, “I broke up with him when we graduated high school, I moved away for a couple years but I came back a couple months ago and now we are together again.”

Mr. Diaz nodded his head, “At least you found each other again.”

“Si…” you said getting distracted by a loud crash coming from the bedrooms, “Tengo que ir donde él… Hablamos más luego.”

The noise of bangs and things breaking became louder the more you reached the room. Once in front of the closed door, you took a big deep breath preparing yourself to see a very pissed off Oscar. Before you opened the door, the loud noises suddenly stopped. The first thing you noticed when you opened the door was all the broken glass on the floor. Your eyes scanned around the messy room until they met Oscar once again sitting by the edge of the bed in silence. Instantly you noticed the blood on his hands and had a small panic attack.

“Oscar!” You shouted quickly running into the bathroom for the first aid kit. This was one of the first things you bought when you moved in with him. You know that sooner or later you would need it and you weren’t wrong. Going back to him you knelt down between his legs, his eyes were stuck on the floor, filled with rage.

“Talk to me,” you looked into his eyes that were filled with suppressed tears. “Oscar… hablame.”

He hissed when you poured antiseptic over his cut, “Crap.”

“Exactly,” you glared at him, “Why were you breaking all this crap!?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “I saw that,” you told him as you continued to cover his cut.

“He hasn’t called or written for years and now he just comes back as if nothing ever happened?!” Oscar let out what was bothering him. “I-,” he clenched his jaw, “I hate him.”

“Don’t say that,” you looked into his eyes. “He- he wasn’t the best father but es tu papa.”

“I hate him, Y/N…” Oscar's eyes were full of rage.

You sighed, finishing up putting on the bandage and standing up. Today wasn’t supposed to be full of troubles from the past. It was supposed to be a chill day with your boyfriend. You were hoping to go on a date and have a normal Valentines day and you weren’t going to have less. Oscar and you needed an escape from the real world. “Let’s get out of here,” you told him.

He looked at you confused, “Que?”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said again, “is Valentine’s day for fucks sake. I am not letting your father’s return ruin this day.”

You could see how the rage in his eyes slowly burned out at the same time a small smirk formed on the corner of his lips. He sighed looking away for a second before standing up and holding you close.

“Tienes razon,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

Both changed into new clothes and made an overnight bag. There weren’t plans made for today but you and Oscar were big fans of spontaneity. Something would come up and honestly being away from home sounded like a great idea at this moment. Oscar texted his brother letting him know he was going to be out for a day. You chuckled when he out-loud said “don’t do anything stupid” as he typed.

“You know that’s practically impossible,” you told him. The breeze of the coast made your hair fly with the air as your extremely hot man drove. “Those chamacos go from one stupid thing to another,” you continued, “we weren’t like that.”

“We were too busy having sex,” Oscar said, “in this car.”

You chuckled quickly looking at the backseat and reminiscing, “Ah, the old days but I’m pretty sure Caesar and Monse are doing something.”

Oscar’s face instantly looked so disgusted, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

You chuckled, “Es la verdad.”

“They broke up,” Oscar said.

“How many times did we break up cuando eramos chamacos?”

“Too many fucking times,” he let out.

Once again you chuckled, “And we always ended up back together… Those two are the fucking same.”

He smirked, deep down he was happy his little brother had someone. His eyes found yours again, “Where are we going?”

“There is this small inn by Santa Monica. The reviews said it is the perfect couples getaway.” You finished the sentence with a flirtatious wink. “We can be more traviesos.”

“I hope Caesar doesn’t get in any trouble while we’re down here,” he let out.

You caressed the back of Oscar's neck, smiling when he let his shoulders relax at your touch. “Everything is going to be fine,” you told him. “My sister is hanging out with them and if anything happens, we will be the first to know. Now can you just give me your all devoted attention and don’t think about your brother and his crazy friends…” You kissed his lips.

Oscar looked at your eyes for a second before turning his focus back to the road. For the rest of the hour you tried your best to take Oscar's mind off his father and his brother.

/ / /

“This is fucking nice,” Oscar let out putting his duffel bag on top of the white bed.

You chuckled, “Look at the view.”

He stood by you on the window holding you by the waist and taking in the beautiful sight of the beach. “Thank you,” he whispered in your ear.

“For what?” you smiled.

“You make everything better,” he said, “if it wasn’t for you this day would have fucking sucked but you… you made it better.”

It was a rare thing for him to be so spoken of his feelings but God how much you loved it when these unusual moments happened. Without hesitating you kissed his lips.

“I got an idea,” he stopped kissing you. “We need to get ready.”

You certainly loved surprises and even more when coming from him. For tonight you decided to wear a white dress with high heel sandals. You wore your hair natural just like your make up only adding a bright red lipstick.

“Wow,” you let out when you saw Oscar walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a white button long sleeve shirt and khaki pants with his converse. You smiled taking in how handsome he looked. “You look hot.”

He smiled for you, “Tu tambien mamas’,” he walked around you, “I’m so lucky.”

You got closer to him, “Yes you are,” kissing him.

He held your hand as you two walked through the streets of Santa Monica. The fresh air coming from the ocean was salty and so pleasant. You followed Oscar lead down the streets until you two got to a small restaurant by the beach.

“Una mesa para dos,” Oscar spoke to the hostess.

She smiled and showed you two the way to a small table outside. The sounds of the waves in the background played better than any song. There was a small candle on the table, lighting bright enough to see Oscar’s eyes on you. Moments like this when there could be a million people around and his eyes were always on you. These were the moments you felt like the only woman in this world.

“This is nice,” you told him, “unusual for us but nice.”

“Our usual dates involve shrimp tacos and watching movies at home,” he said reading the menu.

“I love those dates too,” you said.

Instantly he looked up from the menu and winked giving you a small smirk. “But sadly those are postponed until nuevo aviso because my father decided to just come home after a fucking decade.”

You sighed, “Oscar can we just forget about your dad for one night?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, “Perdon.”

“He told me he thinks you hate him,” you couldn’t help but ignore your own words and talk about his father. Instantly he shot a ‘are you serious?’ glare at you. Innocently you shrugged, “Sorry pero you started.”

“I do hate him,” he said with no remorse.

“Why?”

Oscar put the menu to the side, leaning backwards and crossing his arms onto his chest. “I wrote letters to him,” he began to say. You could feel the sadness in his tone, “for years I wrote and called… You know what I got in return? Nothing.” He placed both of his elbows on the table, holding his hands onto a tight fist. You placed your hand on top of his, “When he left I was a kid but I had to grow up and be a father for my little brother without knowing what a father was. Maybe if he had kept contact or replied to my letter maybe I wouldn’t have turned out so fucked up but he didn’t and here I am… A fucking mess.”

“Hey,” you hold his chin up, “we’re all a fucking mess but it’s just life, you did the best you could and Caesar has turned out good.”

Oscar clenched his jaw, “I guess… I only had one normal while growing up though.”

“What?” You were curious about what his answer would be.

His eyes disappeared into a thin line as his smile grew bigger, “You.”

You giggled with happiness, “Baby I ain’t that normal.”

“You are,” he holds your hand softly caressing it, “I love you.”

You leaned forward kissing his perfect lips and whispering, “I love you too.”

tags are open: just comment or send me a message ;)

@flamingweasley @dolanackles @lcandothisallday @mmelissarenee @donnaintx @blckgrl-sunflower @jayankles oscar