#It does feel like something that was first drafted by a teenager as mentioned in the author’s note!

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Girls Night

YA contemporary

four unlikely girls are thrown together and decide start a fight club at their girls school, and quickly become friends

but things start to get out of control, putting their friendships and safety at risk, and they must decide whether to keep hold of the club or each other

4 POVs, all sapphic, a deaf MC

[peachhcs]

hughes brothers just seeing sam and will acting all couply and seeing how much the two are really in love

watching their baby sister fall in love

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: the hughes brothers realize their baby sister finally found the guy for her + watch her fall in love

2.4k words

this request was so cutie and i enjoyed writing it :) pls send it anymore requests you guys have for samy and will!

au masterlist

for some reason, the hughes brothers never saw their baby sister's relationship with will coming except luke who was the one still around as the feelings grew and the relationship developed—of course he picked up on all of the signs the younger smith sibling gave samy. him and will were almost the same age, so the teenage pining was all too familiar to the middle hughes.

quinn and jack on the other hand? oh forget about them knowing until the summer they came home after samy finished up her senior year. with them being away for most of the year, they missed every single gaze, touch, and stolen glances between the teenagers as the year went on. plus, luke's not one to talk about his crushes in general, so why would he mention anything about his sister's love life to the two older siblings?

the entire relationship left all three of them speechless when it finally happened. watching samy and will interact at the draft in nashville was the brothers' first indication something was happening. they looked way too close than usual considering will's always been attached to luke or jack growing up. he'd just naturally gravitate towards the boys as they grew up in the summer months together pushing each other off the dock, having diving competitions, and playing hockey in the driveway. neither jack nor luke noticed will slowly attaching himself to their sister instead as the years went on.

when samy and will's first date came a month later, the boys were skeptical. of course they knew will and how he was the sweetest soul on the planet—it was their older brother instincts kicking in. samy was their baby sister and it took a certain guy to be the right one for her and neither of the brothers wanted her to get hurt. sure, will was family, but that didn't mean he couldn't fuck something up.

their teasing was relentless before they let the young couple leave, but really it was all a tactic to see how well will held up under this new dynamic.

"can you guys shut up?" samy eyed luke standing against the wall before glancing at their mom for help.

"what? we're just saying. mom never let us go out to ann arbor by ourselves when we were yoyr age," jack piped in from the couch. will stood beside samy in a nervous mess, unaware of the brothers (mostly jack and luke) eyeing him down.

"guys, just cool it, okay? let your sister be," jim stepped in because he was probably the only one that could shut jack and luke up. the boys shut their mouths after that and samy dragged will out of the house before anymore comments could be made.

"seriously?" ellen eyed her boys.

"what? we gotta poke fun at her too," luke defended.

"you were gonna give will a nervous breakdown," the older woman rolled her eyes.

"it's nothing he hasn't heard before. just gotta make sure he's up to our standards for our sister," jack shrugged.

they were still up when samy came back through the door at around 10:30. they all perked up when she walked into the kitchen with the biggest smile on her lips.

"someone's smiley," jack commented.

"maybe it's too early to say this, but i really think it's gonna work out between us. at least, i really hope it does," samy gushed, a lovesick expression on her features that her brothers had never seen before.

her words turned a gear in their brains. they've never heard her talk about a guy like that before nor had they seen a look like that on her face after she came back from a date. that stuck out to them and for a split second, they thought that maybe will was the right guy for her. maybe.

the start of the new school year had the hughes siblings breaking up until summer again. samy headed off to umich for her first semester, luke flew out to jersey with jack to really begin his rookie year, and quinn headed back out west to vancouver—a captaincy in his near future. with the brothers not there, they didn't see the development of will and samy's new relationship. yes, the siblings were close, but there were some things they didn't talk about in detail with one another. one of them being their relationships and love life.

anytime the youngest hughes was on facetime with her brothers, she only briefly mentioned will and they also never really asked. when summer quickly came back around and the gang reunited, they were still skeptical of will. was he really the guy for samy? was he becoming like every other jerk hockey player the boys knew all too well because well, they were once that guy too.

their relationship was approaching one year and the brothers finally got to see and understand that yes, will was the perfect guy for their sister.

lazy lake days were everyone's favorites because people went and did their own thing whether it was nap all day, tan, or just mess around. luke immersed himself with a conversation with some of his old umich friends. ethan and mark yapped on and on about their hockey season while luke chimed in with details from his rookie year. the boy missed being in michigan everyday, but he was glad he could reconnect with everyone during the summer months for a few weeks.

after awhile, luke needed to go inside to get a new drink. he nodded to some of his brother's friends on his way up the yard before sliding the glass doors open. relief filled his body as the cold ac air hit his skin and cooled him down from the burning 90 degree temperatures outside. he was about to head back outside until voices caught his attention in the living room.

he shuffled that way, not quite recognizing who was talking until he saw the faces. luke met samy and will's friends a few times, but he didn't know them that well. two boys stood by the couch snickering to one another with their phone cameras out. luke raised his eyebrow, trying to peer over them to see what had their attention.

he finally spotted his sister and will curled up on the couch together. samy's head was tucked into the crook of will's neck while his own head laid atop hers. her legs were thrown over his lap and his arm draped over her shoulders. seeing them in that position was still so foreign to the middle hughes.

"gonna have a whole album by the time summer's over," luke was pretty sure his name was ryan. ryan showed him the photo album on his phone titled smitty's so whippedwhich made luke laugh.

"god, they were so insufferable over the phone and even worse in person," gabe teased.

"will was always calling samy like at any chance he got. pretty sure we tried throwing will's phone out the window one time because he wouldn't stop calling her," ryan snickered.

luke's expression settled a bit the more he stared at his sister and will. it almost softened for a second thinking about will constantly calling her to hear her voice. that wasn't something a jerky hockey player did, luke thought in his head.

"they were annoying, but it was cute i suppose. never seen smitty act like this before, it's kind of nice seeing a different side of him," gabe added with a tiny smile.

the boys' words left luke thinking. he thought back to when samy came home after their first date last year and the look on her face he'd never seen before. hearing about will's change too made the hughes brother think maybe will wasn't like every other guy.

later that day, luke crowded around the kitchen island with quinn and jack as the three discussed when they wanted to go golfing and if they wanted to invite anyone. samy shuffled into the kitchen, sleep laced in her eyes still with will right behind her.

"morning," luke laughed a little seeing his sister.

"morning," the girl grumbled back obviously not in the mood for any teasing.

"heard you two had a pretty sound nap," jack chuckled.

"yeah, it was really nice actually. thanks for asking," samy's voice dripped with sarcasm towards her brother.

"jeez, someone's grumpy," the older brunette laughed which made quinn and luke chuckle too. all samy did was give him the middle finger as she bent down to pick up the bottle cap she dropped.

instinctively, will wrapped his hand around the counter edge so samy wouldn't hit her head when she came back up. the gesture went unnoticed by samy since it was in will's second nature to just do that, but the brothers saw it very clearly. they saw how will didn't even think when he did it, he just did.

neither of them mentioned it when they left, but all three of them thought about the gesture for awhile after.

jack wasn't good at falling asleep. his parents liked calling him the night owl in the family since they could never put him down for bed. he'd just jump right back up, his energy bursting to get out.

the middle hughes tiptoed around the guys asleep on air mattresses scattered across the house. he thought maybe some food could make him sleepy, so he started searching the fridge for a snack.

the guy didn't notice samy and will until he let his gaze drift to the backyard while he cut up some apples. his eyes stopped on the gently swinging hammock on the deck and the two people inside. he immediately recognized samy's frizzy curls—very much taking after luke with that gene.

jack wasn't meaning to be creepy, but he crept a bit closer to the back doors to get a better look. will's arm was draped around her shoulder and samy's head was on his chest. he could hear their faint voices through the door and small giggles at whatever they were talking about.

the older brunette smiled to himself briefly before a few tears edged their way to jack's eyes. seeing his sister in love was not something he thought would make him emotional, but after watching her grow up, it all felt bittersweet in jack's mind.

he was always the one samy would go to first after luke if she needed something. he was closer to her age and while she didn't think quinn couldn't give advice, he was six years older. jack and luke were and have always been samy's go to's. jack was emotional in the fact that his baby sister finally found someone who sat in a hammock with her late at night to look at the stars—especially someone she already knew so well.

he left them be after he cut up his apples, retreating back to his room where he'd go to sleep knowing samy was in the right hands.

water guns were most definitely the worst investment for the lake house. the hockey boys went crazy with them full and armed like they were going to squirt anyone who walked by them. somehow, some of the guys and the girls managed to get themselves into a mini water gun fight.

gabe and ryan teamed up against samy and hannah originally. their squealing caught the attention of some of the other guys who quickly ran to join gabe and ryan against the girls. rutger aided in throwing water balloons at them while mark and moldy chased them with water buckets. poor samy and hannah were severely out numbered.

"hey! you can't run forever!" moldy yelled as he chased after the youngest hughes with an entire bucket of water.

"i can and i will!" samy yelled back at him. the brothers found it amusing and endearing that a lot of their friends saw samy as their own little sister they could constantly tease.

will walked onto the deck where samy immediately ran to him as a shield. the blonde grew confused before he saw nick with the largest water bucket he'd ever seen.

"hey, woah. you can't dump that on me," will said as he held his arm out, shielding samy from the impending water.

"i will if you don't move so i can get samy," moldy laughed.

"i'm not a part of this, so technically, i'm a safe spot," will tried negotiating.

"i'm not sure it works like that, smitty. she runs to you, you're on her side," nick shrugged, smirking still.

"get her!" mark yelled as he ran towards the deck with his own water bucket. nick took that as a signal he could dump his water.

samy screamed as will quickly shoved her out of the way and took the hit as two buckets of water drenched him from head to toe. the boys broke out into laughter while samy stared in disbelief that her boyfriend was now dripping wet and she was perfectly dry.

"oh shit. i'm sorry will," the girl couldn't hold her giggles as she covered her mouth.

the blonde shook his hair out like a dog before breaking a tiny smile. "you're taking the hit next time," he mumbled, placing a chaste kiss to her lips.

quinn, jack, and luke had watched the entire interaction from where they sat together at their fire pit. the three of them were laughing watching poor will get soaked for samy.

"he's so whipped if he just took two buckets of water for her," jack mumbled with a smile.

luke and quinn looked his way. it was the first time one of them had ever said something about samy and will to one another since their entire relationship started.

"they're cute. makes me miss being a teenager in love," quinn muttered. "plus, i've never seen her so happy before nor have i seen will so happy either," the oldest hughes added.

their eyes flicked back towards the couple where will was now trying to dry himself off.

"it's a good look for them, isn't it?" luke said after a moment.

"she's happy. like really happy," jack nodded.

"i think he really cares about her. he's definitely sticking around," luke said.

"i mean wasn't he already? he's like family," jack laughed making quinn laugh too.

"i'm just happy she's found someone. i totally saw it coming by the way, so you all owe me still," luke muttered and the brothers rolled their eyes.

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[genericpuff]

Hello, brazilian anon here! So I have been following criticisms of LO for a while now, and Psyche and Eros caught my attention in special, because their relationship is legit a racist trope commonly applied to indigenous people: Woman of color is put in a arranged marriage or pressured into marrying a guy from her village/tribe but "falls in love" with a white dude who "saves" her from her abusive and "uncivilized" family. Think of Disney's Pocahontas. This trope is commonly used to dehumanize non-european/anglo-saxon cultures and portray them as barbaric, and is rooted in colonialism and its direct heir, imperialism, as a means for colonizers to justify and sugarcoat raping and forcing women of color to marry them. So not a good look for Rachel.

OH YEAH IT IS

(you just opened Pandora's Box by mentioning Pocahontas around me LMAO)

It's even more egregious when you consider how Rachel changed the original myth from Psyche undergoing trials on her own to her ... being turned into a nymph servant for Aphrodite. Like huh. Is that really your final draft, Rachel? Have you thought this through?

I made a very spicy post about this like a year and a half ago and honestly I think it's still worth talking about because it's incredibly telling that Psyche had her entire story uprooted and replaced with a version where she's transformed into a non-POC character to disguise herself as a servant to a woman who's already racist towards nymphs. It's got that issue of "take the black character and transform them into an animal/other being that isn't black so that we don't have to have a black character onscreen for more than 10 minutes."

And yeah, you can tell how much Rachel is absentmindedly taking from Disney without challenging what those stories were portraying or asking deeper questions to get to the heart of their messaging. Pocahontas is rightfully panned for being a very white-washed version of a story that was written in the blood shed by Native Americans at the hands of colonizers. "Pocahontas" herself, even, was not some independent native woman who fell in love with the "one good white guy" on the boat, she was a teenage girl, whose life was spared but made worse when she was forced to travel overseas to be used as a prop to justify their continued actions in murdering and colonizing the "savages" overseas; she was then forced into marriage and had to carry the children of her captors, all while being treated as an exotic spectacle by the people around her who would undoubtedly kill her at the first sign of disobedience.

Her name was Matoaka. Her life and story is not something that should be romanticized. It's a tragedy and much of what instigated it is still alive and well today. She only lived to be 21.

I don't know if Rachel intentionally referenced or ripped off Pocahontas in Lore Olympus the same way she clearly has with Hercules and Beauty and the Beast. But it's incredibly telling in how she treats the racial divide between nymphs and gods and how she's twisted the Eros x Psyche myth into what it is that even if she did watch Pocahontas, she probably never realized how problematic it is at its core in the way that it's told.

In the original myth, Psyche is a woman who's meant to represent the fickleness of vanity - the loneliness it can make one feel to be admired and not truly loved, and the destruction that can be brought about in jealousy - and her pursuit in finding genuine love in Eros, a journey she travels alone, thematically with the rest of the story.

In Lore Olympus, she's an illiterate woman of color whose only purpose is to be Eros' wife, robbed of all agency so that she can be a trophy for him to earn, a test for him to pass. It's boring and really icky when you really peel back the layers of it with Psyche's character design in mind. Even when she finally does get more agency in her task to bring down Apollo - or at the very least, keep an eye on him - it's still at the behest of Zeus who gives her immortality not as a reward for overcoming the trials she set out to pass, but so she can be his errand boy. So once again she's not capable of doing anything motivated by her own best interests (especially when she already knows how dangerous Apollo is, why is she the one who has to follow this guy around?)

So yeah, no, not a good look at all LMAO

[seneon]

GIRL FROM MEMORY ──── rayne ames × fem! reader.

about. in which, memories of a mysterious girl that kept appearing in rayne's mind, but he doesn't know who she is. angst with the wc of 1.6k. modern! au. mentions of death.

notes. yeah enough with the rayne romances, the world needs a little crying too ( say hi to a 9 month-old draft ) lawl hi @kyoghurts

PRETTY HAIR, PERFECT LIPS. the faint image of a pretty girl burned into the back of his mind. in there, there were all sorts of things that she did which replayed over and over like a long movie film that was left to stream.

the very first scene that played in his mind is the girl sitting across, seemingly writing or drawing. either way, she held a pencil and was writing down in a workbook. she was teaching, it seems. next was a blurry scene of her waving through a crowd, a big and encouraging smile spread across her cheeks to make the day brighter than it already is.

there were many more that kept playing in rayne ames' head, but the one that kept rewinding over and over is when the girl was tearing up with patches of blood that stained her cheeks. simple tears that silently flowed down her cheeks.

somehow, that specific memory lingered around longer than the other. there was this numbness that clenched around rayne's chest and he didn't know the reason to that. he didn't know the reason for anything at all.

hell, he doesn't even know who the girl is.

that is the confusing part about everything. he is dreaming and recalling visions of a girl he doesn't know and doesn't even remember even interacting with her at all. all of a sudden when he woke up, he was already crowded with memories of that girl.

y/n. y/n. y/n.

her name, y/n. that was all he managed to put at the front of his head. only her name. not even her surname or a nickname nor does any knowledge about her come to mind. who is this mysterious girl that just decided to appear in his mind?

the more rayne thinks about her, the more he feels incredibly disturbed. he lays in the hospital bed at this moment, looking out the window at the perfectly bright blue sky, wishing the heavens would tell him exactly who this y/n is. he wants to know who she is, or who she was. but with one leg that is to remain numb and sore for quite some time, he doubts he would ever find anything about this y/n.

what can a crippled teenage boy possibly do? the half-blonde can only sit back and keep his mind going like a workshop to invent something about the mysterious girl that lives rent-free in his mind.

through and through for living in this hospital for a few weeks, he has heard at least the name y/n three or four times. it was only a limited number of mentions of her name, but it was enough to drive the ames curious and at the same time, insane. everytime he asks someone about the name mentioned, they would always reply with a “she's only a schoolmate of yours.”

nothing less, nothing more. only a schoolmate.

“finn, who is y/n?” he asked his brother who is currently paying him a visit. that same name that kept ringing in rayne's ears with the image of an unknown, pretty girl. he wants to know if finn knows this y/n too, or if any images pop up in his mind. rayne wants to know.

“rayne, you must remember her. by yourself,” finn replied.

what does the younger ames mean by that? how is rayne going to remember this y/n girl if no one is going to tell him? the more people that dodged his questions, the more he feels like a portion of his nerves gets set on fire.

why in the world is nobody going to tell rayne ames who the hell y/n is?

rayne is starting to get angry at the lack of understanding as many more images of the girl flood his mind. all alone, he clenched his fists and pursed his lips tightly together, in a state where he is angry at himself for not remembering. guilt gathered all around him where they rested heavy on his shoulders. the guilt of not remembering a soul that should be remembered.

thus he forced himself to sleep. maybe then he'll remember something about her. whatever the case might be, rayne is sure that he didn't want to open his eyes and meet the sunlight of the world anymore because he is now in a world of darkness.

“rayne…? you're not supposed to be here! not so soon…” the familiar voice of a girl rang as darkness ceased to visible brightness. and there she is. y/n. could this be another memory?

“go back, rayne,” she said. the said male couldn't quite understand the tone in her voice. it sounded like she didn't want to leave him alone and at the same time, she demanded that he ‘go back’. whatever that could mean.

rayne held out his hand, “you're y/n… right?”

he watched her carefully. he watched how her face twisted into a frown and eventually into a face that screamed pity at the male. a smile so small and sad at the same time spreaded across her lips and it gave the elder ames a little heartbreak for not even knowing what was going on. all the girl did was give him a little nod. “please rayne, go back. you cannot be here. you must breathe and open your eyes again.”

breathe and open his eyes again? rayne felt fear. “at least! at least… allow me to hold you for a while.”

the girl immediately embraced him, sinking into his touch. she hugged him tightly as rayne wrapped his arms around her. he could feel her warmth, unlike those visions of her that he couldn't even interact with.

still, he doesn't know who she is. so here, he is simply hugging a girl that he doesn't even know. but this feels right. it feels so damn right to wrap his hands around her and to softly caress her head, maybe he'd even plant a kiss of two. but he didn't.

when she pulled away, she ran, not even allowing rayne to see her face. far enough, she glanced back at the half blonde and shot him a genuine smile this time. “we’ll meet again, rayne,” she held out her hand to wave a weak good-bye to him as the bracelet she wore shone a little.

before rayne could say anything else to the mysterious girl, she had disappeared, and light kissed the vision of rayne the moment he opened his honey eyes.

“he’s breathing!”

“it's a success!”

“oh thank heavens!”

blurriness clouded the ames' vision as he breathed into the mask, his head slowly turning to look around. everything happened in slow motion— the voices and the faces that looked down at him. last but not least, the girl in memory and her shining bracelet.

rayne ames’ golden honey eyes locked it's sights onto the silver bracelet that was wrapped around his own wrist. it has been minutes, no— hours, since he started staring at the jewelry. it was the same exact one that y/n wore before she left and before rayne opened his eyes.

he shifted his position to lay at the side where his view is facing the window to the outside world. the young man held his hand close to him, the bracelet touching his chest.

now he remembers it all.

the girl in his vision is y/n, his girlfriend. his late girlfriend who died instead of him in a bloody event where a mindless man in a car crashes into the couple. the man took away an innocent life that rayne treasured so much. and rayne couldn't even remember you at the start.

he clenched the bracelet tightly. the bracelet that he handmade for you. the bracelet that he gifted to you on the day of your anniversary of being together for six months. just right that morning before you breathed your last breath and protected rayne with all you could.

rayne could feel the numbness on his face that started to form from just thinking about it. eventually, he shut his eyes and allowed the tears to flow down. that one memory that lingered around was the last memory he has of you, where you calmly cried after losing the feeling in your body.

that was your specialty. to calmly pull things through. you were definitely better at handling things than rayne. that was what annoyed rayne so much. he couldn't even tell if you were scared or the sort at that moment. all he knew was that he was supposed to be the one shielding you, not you.

rayne felt stupid. he felt like a sore loser who allowed his girlfriend to die. he felt so weak. but what could he do? this is life, and this is his fate. he was supposed to die. but you told him to go back, to breathe again and to open his eyes. the least he could do was grant you your dying wish.

he was glad that he managed to embrace you on the brink of death.

rayne curled himself up into a ball and laid there, tears silently flowing out all night.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[lkigami]

A/N : currently thuggin’ it out for the Isagi fic ‘cause life is getting in the way— this was the original draft for it, fits Bachira way better though so here you go.

Wc: ~600

Not proofread we die like men LETSGO

Bachira doesn’t exactly understand why he feels this way. In some ways, you remind him more of his mother than anyone else; the way paintbrushes and late night walks seem to meld together into a journal of core memories — waiting for him to open that journal and flip through the pages of fleeting events that could dissapear at a moments notice.

Bachira, well — Bachira is, certainly an interesting individual. Those traits that seem to simmer and reflect into his yellow irises whenever you’re close to him. It’s not as if you were much more different than he was.

Every time he looks at you, he feels his stomach tie into a knot— your laughter teases him. He always thought you were pretty. It wasn’t as if he never looked past personality: he could think of a dozen girls whom had managed to attract him. Still, he always finds himself feeling this— this feeling.

A bit like a pathetic teenage boy whenever you walk the streets of outer Tokyo at night , when the lamps illuminate the city that supposedly “never sleeps”. It’s the only thing he remembers from sociology , ironically the one thing you mentioned to him while walking. Sometimes, only sometimes ; he catches himself staring a little too long at his reflection in the mirror after having walked you home when the “night walk” get dangerously close to an all nighter.

Its in that sliver of a moment , that his cheeks get red and suddenly poor little Bachira can’t comprehend why you never seem to teeter on that edge of seduction— he sulks , because he wants you to battle the same temptation he does whenever your faces get a little too close to eachother— maybe if he got you to play football with him— maybe then he could play off his lips accidentally touching yours when pretending to fall off and plant face first to the ground.

Like a pendulum, you swing towards him. Always going that extra mile whenever you manage to scramble whatever nickles you have dangling around in your school bag and buy him those sour pineapple flavored candies he loves from the vending machine outside of the school entrance. When you help him do all of those essays he always puts off to the last minute and then hastens to finish. When you call out to him after his football practice.

But just like a pendulum swings towards something, it also swings away from it.

He can’t help all those rumours that make him out to be a monster. He can’t mitigate the presentiment that he’s ransacking you of a social life that you deserve. When your classmates criticize your friendship with him, he feels something hideous creep into him— that alarming feeling of wanting to do things that are pure evil to those who harm you.

And he feels guilty for that.

He feels guilty for wanting to dictate your own life— to mallow what you feel inside so that you atleast know what it is he goes through every single day. Whenever you seem to unconsciously doubt a decision that would lead you astray from him, he convinces you to do a complete detour, to return to what you know best and—

And he snaps out of it.

Because he’s no longer in front of his bathroom mirror but in front of you,on his bed. Suddenly everything seems to come crashing down as his inner monster tell him to kiss you.

And he does.

[watermelinoe]

Do you feel as though most lesbians on radblr (not all of course) are… you know? Like.. they progressively become more and more biphobic after months or years of being decent. I don’t know if I’m making a lot of sense, but first it was the 22v6 girl, then normallesbian, then menalez, and now heterophobicdyke too.. i know there are more examples but i’m just getting tired of the biphobia on here.. ☹️

honestly i don't think of this as a lesbian problem. afaik 22v6 wasn't a lesbian. i can't really speak on the other users you mentioned bc i don't follow them, i've seen some of the behavior i'm about to describe from some of them but they don't come to mind when i'm thinking of some of the worst things i've seen on here.

radblr in general just has an accountability issue. someone will say something biphobic (or homophobic! afaik that woman who made that homophobic pastor comparison remade and carried right along) and some people will express disapproval, but most will ignore it or try to downplay it and they'll keep interacting with that user. i'll use heterophobicdyke as an example since she's deactivated, but someone in her inbox was complaining that bi women "whine" about our rape and dv statistics, and in her response she completely brushed past it, zero acknowledgement of that being a fucked up thing to say. that's one typical radblr response. downplaying is another. but the worst imo is being accused of being manipulative.

so if we complain about being called dickmunchers on here, we may be told it's just "venting" and to log off and get real problems, but if we mention said real problems (rape and ipv statistics as well as substance abuse and mental illness statistics) then we must be weaponizing those statistics to play the victim in the great lesbian vs bisexual war that we've all been drafted in i guess. bi women are all master manipulators, obviously.

so where does that shit come from? imo, not radblr.

most deranged shit being said about bi women can be traced back to this blackpilled thing. radblr's biggest problem is that instead of saying "hey that's a deranged thing to say," the gyns are more annoyed with bi women for ~making a big deal out of it~ when WE say "hey that's a deranged thing to say." i can make a post documenting some deranged thing someone said and the two responses i will get are: "this is based actually and i hope your nigel kills you" <- some blackpill weirdo orbiting radblr who assumes i'm male-partnered, and "log off if you don't like it" "that's not a radfem" (bonus points if it's about a user that radfems regularly reblog from) <- radfems

and that's not a lesbian thing, the root is just that no one here thinks bisexuality is an oppressed sexual minority. kind of ironic for the "we totally understand class analysis" group. but if it seems worse than before, i think that's because the blackpill thing is sort of in vogue rn, especially with edgy teenagers orbiting radblr.

it would be nice if more women on here would actually stand up for bi women instead of finding a million excuses not to do so. that's what i find frustrating, personally. but it also happens with racism and homophobia all the time. i know it doesn't seem like it bc we have conflict all the fuckin time, but i actually think radblr is overall conflict-avoidant to a fault.

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

actually, you know what.

this is from a deleted chapter of shttdd. i had to cut it for a number of reasons, but this scene was one of the first i pictured in my mind and it works perfectly with the idea i still have about the relationship between peanut and his mother.

so. here it is, a deleted and rough draft of an excerpt from the story as well as a headcanon. enjoy <3

-

word count: 1.5k ca.

-

He finds her sitting on the bench at the stop, a bit of the excitement already faded, if anything in the calm of the wait in the rigid December cold, as Larry sits next to her.

Ever since he was a child, he has barely ever set foot in a church, except maybe a few times that he had to fetch Johnny for some Greasers meeting, so he certainly is no reliable source. Still, when he looks at his mother like this, when she isn’t running from one place to the other, he can’t help but think she looks sort of like a Madonna — in the good Sunday dress her mother had left her, smile sweet but with some undefinable glint of sadness in the corner of her eye. 

His knowledge of the story is vague, but he struggles to believe them, when he hears people claim Mary had happily and unconditionally accepted sacrificing her youth for a child, no matter how much good he would’ve done for the world or how much she would’ve been adored or even how much she would’ve loved the child. Larry is no Jesus, but he knows for sure that, despite treasuring him and loving him to death, his mom has never stopped grieving the teenage years she had to give up for a kid that only ever stopped her from flying away.

«The Espositos are so nice, inviting us all there.» When she speaks, her gaze is lost in the streets in front of her, and she might as well be talking more to herself than to her son. «It’s nice to stay over there, with people who care about you. It’s nice.»

There has always been something ironic about the way she loves and celebrates Christmas, especially since she’s never had a good relationship with a Father that has never cared about her and the only holy water in their house has only ever been the spit on good old Christian ladies condemning her to the stake. Everything she loves about the twenty-fifth of December, Larry has only guessed, is that, for a day, she can pretend not to be in charge, to have someone to rely on.

«Who else of your friends is there?»

She purposefully puts it casually, but the question stabs Larry’s heart sideways nonetheless. However, just like she did, he nonchalantly tries to list of all his Greaser friends that Hal might have invited for Christmas. «Well, usual, I guess. Lefty’s back in Rome for the week, Vance is with his sisters and his mom… most of them will stay at their own house I think. I’m not sure about the Pucinos, since Ricky’s dad just came back an’ all that. But I don’t think anyone else is coming. I wonder if Johnny and Lola will come, after all I think it’s jus’ the two of ‘em. I might go see them in the afternoon.»

At the last two names he finds himself biting the tip of his tongue, some bad feeling in his throat, the doubt that he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the topic if he said it nor if he didn’t.

True to his expectation, at the sole mention of Johnny’s name, his mom’s features harden, her eyes still into the distance; not even looking at him.

What a great way to start the day.

A huff escapes his mouth, but the knot in his trachea doesn’t go away with it. «Mom, I get that you don’t like him, you don’t gotta do this every single time.»

«It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s not personal!» She shakes her head energetically, as she always does, but Larry knows exactly where this is going anyway, and he’s awfully tired of this shitshow that opens its curtains any time he just happens to mention Johnny.

He rolls his eyes, sparks of irritation jumping in his chest, head falling in his hands as all the blood flowing to it makes it heavier and heavier. «I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at a fuckin’ bus stop.»

«I just,» Shrugging frantically, she keeps following her train of thoughts, deaf and blind to her son’s reaction, only her own heart beating in her head. «don’t think you should trust him as much as you do, y’know.»

His arms open, and he’s not looking at her either, too busy trying to hear his own voice over the roar in his ears. «He’s always taken care of me! Always!»

Her argument is always the same, repetitive, stubborn; he must have taken it from somewhere, after all. «For now! You can’t rely on that kind of guy!»

«“That kind of guy”.» Her and Johnny might have interacted two, three, four times at best, and certainly she’s never seen him rush at his side, or waiting for him to wake up in the infirmary, or introducing him to the higher ranking members of the clique, or pulling him away from bullies’ grip, or fighting back by back with him against older kids jumping them. She doesn’t know him, doesn’t know them, and, after leaving him wondering in his earliest childhood if she had ever wanted him around at all, she is definitely not in the position to judge whether Johnny actually cares about him or not. «What “kind of guy” would he be, huh?»

Still, she goes on, undeterred, if anything more determined to make her point come across. «He’ll just chase the first thing that excites him! He can only enjoy things as long as they’re good, but he’ll leave as soon as he doesn’t have fun anymore!»

This time, Larry snaps. «Oh, c’mon! Just ‘cause dad—»

Their eyes finally cross. Suddenly, they are but two sixteen years old staring at each other, both lost, confused, horridly lonely. He’s said the one word that he’s never supposed to voice, that is meant to stay stuck between the teeth she’s kept gritted since the day she found herself alone sixteen years ago. As soon as Larry has let it out, it has pierced into her gaze, breaking the glass of her eyes that she had tried to keep together with superhuman effort.

What an asshole that he is, isn’t he.

Taking back his words is impossible, now, or, at least, there’s nothing he can do to glue those pieces back together, fragile like crystal in his rough and indelicate hands. «Mom…»

«You know what? You’re right.» She turns her head away again; her voice is coarse, older than the thirty-two years old she’s supposed to be, as shaky as the little girl she never grew out of. «I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at a fuckin’ bus stop.»

Apologies are stuck up his throat, blocking his breath, but he knows better than to insist; for once, he should just be an adult and shut his mouth.

He just wishes this wasn’t such a minefield, one where they are only ever condemned to hurt each other.

When they get on the bus, it’s wordlessly, silence heavy on Larry’s stomach and his mom’s eyes passively laying on the window as the buildings slide behind it, gray snow that clashes with the colored lights, five broken for each one shining. She is often silent when something’s wrong; when he was younger, naive and unable to grasp why she should have been upset at him coming back home just a few minutes too late, he would stare at her from the couch, dread in his throat as her face wouldn’t soften for hours, waiting for her to give him a smile, to tell him that it was okay and she still loved him.

Growing older, though, he’s learned to be patient, to test the waters slowly and let her know that she’s safe peeking out of her own head. Lightly, making sure that his own uneasiness doesn’t leak through — she doesn’t need a child to comfort, right now. «Mom?»

Not an answer, a gesture, a gaze.

He takes a breath; just another try. «Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.»

Finally, she turns to him. At first, there’s still something cold, distant in time and space, like her soul is only now realizing what body she’s finding herself into, like she’s seeing him for the first time, at birth. However, it warms soon after, thin lips curling in a soft smile, that Holy Mary tender and bittersweet gaze, as she caresses his cheek. «It’s okay. I just wish you didn’t turn out so much like me.»

This is another thing that she tells him often; in all these years, though, Larry still hasn’t found quite the right explanation. All he can do is laying his head on her shoulder and let her stroke his hair, pretending for just a second that they can be just as happy together as any mother and son would be.

What would they be like, if they were okay?

[softpine]

what r some of ur fav hints/easter eggs from past posts that u can talk about now? any that ended up being scrapped?

oooh this is a fun question!! the first thing i thought of is caroline not knowing how to swim. it was mentioned a few times when she was a teenager

because my original plan was for caroline to have a near-death experience while drunkenly falling off a boat in DSV, which would've been a wake up call for her and would've made her start thinking about returning home (ie. returning to safety). but that was before i decided to go down the supernatural route with asa's story (actually, this was before i even decided that cara would have a kid someday), so i scrapped that idea and decided the real turning point for cara would be seeing that vision of asa! but then i still had to give an explanation for why i kept mentioning she can't swim, so i had beth teach her how to swim, as a way of signifying caroline's growth and newfound ability to step outside her comfort zone :)

...

ALSO THE SCRAPPED CHEATING SUBPLOT FJKSJDSKJ

okay. hop into the time machine with me. stevie and matt have been not dating, but not not dating, for a year now. matt has just seen some texts on stevie's phone which make him think she's seeing other people on the side. you can tell he's not mad, in fact he's openly joking about it with her. so he's really confused when stevie says she hasn't been seeing anyone other than him. truthfully – and i can only say this now – matt wouldn't have cared if she was. but they establish that neither of them has been seeing anyone other than each other. there's an unspoken agreement that they're exclusive now, even though they still don't put labels on their relationship.

okay now we're at the dock where stevie professed her love, but here's where things deviate: matt was not supposed to break up with her here. in my original draft, he would've said he loves her too and then continued to date stevie (WITH labels now), knowing they're a dead end, but being too cowardly to say anything. it would take stevie a few weeks to realize matt isn't as enthusiastic about their relationship as she is, but she convinces herself that she's being paranoid. things start to get worse as matt loses interest and gets worse and worse at hiding it. it's not that he doesn't love or care about stevie, it's just that the guilt of lying to her is making it hard to even want to be around her, so it seems like he just doesn't give a shit about her anymore.

eventually, stevie confronts him about it. she's not trying to guilt trip him, but she can't hide how upset she is, and it makes matt dig his grave even deeper because he feels this instinct to assure stevie that he DOES love her and he DOES want to be with her. he apologizes for acting weird lately and he's honest about the fact that he had a contrasting idea of who stevie was before they started dating, so now he's trying to reconcile the person he invented in his head with who stevie actually is, but he still loves her and he promises he'll make a greater effort. so they KEEP DATING...

but things don't get better. because of their prior conversations, stevie believes she's the problem. as a test, she tries to act the way she acts around strangers: loud, funny, and impersonal – and the worst part is, matt actually seems more interested now.

nearing graduation, matt and stevie go tour a college campus a few hours out of town. they get invited to a house party. (it's a just chill gathering, not a PARTY party. they smoke a little but neither of them are drinking.) matt is having a great time impressing everyone with his ~extreme sports~ stories, but stevie is becoming increasingly upset because of something that happened earlier (which might still happen so i can't say anything about it lol) and she just wants to go home, but they took matt's car, so she can't leave until he does. he doesn't even notice when stevie goes outside alone. she's sitting in the cold for a while before this guy approaches her and offers her his jacket. he has this vibe

and if you know anything about stevie, that's literally her type fjkjsds

so this guy, cameron, sits with her and they start talking. he's a freshman studying aeronautical engineering. stevie obviously thinks this is fucking awesome and wants to know everything about it. they talk for a LONG time. when stevie realizes how cold cameron must be, since she's wearing his jacket, she's like omg let's go somewhere else... so they walk back to cameron's dorm and keep talking. matt does check on her via text, but stevie says she found another ride home, and matt doesn't push further. she and cameron talk for literally hours, long after the party ends and matt has undoubtedly gone home, but stevie is just so relieved to be herself around someone, not worried about how she's acting or being perceived.

eventually, of course, they kiss. stevie is overwhelmed with regret immediately and blurts out that she has a boyfriend, which cameron is shocked by because she hasn't mentioned anything about him even though she basically shared her entire life story. stevie realizes she doesn't have much of anything to say about matt. she loves him, but at this point she's really just punishing herself by staying with him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way, and because she's afraid no one will ever pursue her the way matt did. but here's cameron, disproving this theory in real time. she kisses him again. thankfully he knows she's not in the right headspace to do anything more than that. they end up getting snacks from the vending machine and continuing to talk all night, falling asleep together just as the sun starts rising. (and if you've ever cuddled with someone in a TINY dorm bed, you'll know that's somehow more intimate than sex lmao)

when stevie wakes up, she feels awful about what she'd done and she sneaks out of the dorm before cameron wakes up. she calls her dad to come pick her up. considering he finds his daughter crying outside some guy's dorm in the same clothes she left in, owen assumes the worst, so stevie has to awkwardly tell him what really happened so that owen won't drive them straight to the police station. she doesn't even know why she called her dad of all people. as soon as he finds out it was consensual and stevie just feels guilty about it, owen tries to cheer her up by being like "aww don't worry, i've cheated too!! 👍🏻 it doesn't make you a bad person, you can't help it, you're just like me and your mom :D" which is just about the worst thing stevie could possibly hear in this situation...

stevie doesn't even try to keep this a secret from matt. she tells him exactly what happened on that same day. i'm not going to get too far into the aftermath of this, because obviously i scrapped this plot and it doesn't really matter anymore. but matt's reaction to finding out he had been cheated on... it's kinda interesting. he gets frustrated with stevie because she's the one who wanted to be exclusive in the first place, while matt had a "take it or leave it" kinda attitude towards exclusivity (in fact, part of the reason he'd been drawn to stevie in the first place was because she didn't want to tie herself down so quickly). so matt has been completely faithful because stevie asked him to be, but then stevie is the one who cheated? it really bothers him. in the end, matt is the one who breaks up with her. he leaves the relationship feeling like he was the one who got burned. he's never forced to acknowledge the ways in which he fucked up long before stevie did – essentially she gave him an "out". meanwhile stevie now believes she's incapable of staying in a committed relationship and swears off love for a while (which is where she's at right now in canon, so, hey. we circled back).

the reason why i didn't go down this route is because, for the main plot to progress, i needed stevie to be at rock bottom AND estranged from elaine. i also needed elaine to be angry at matt, and be disappointed in austin. it would've taken way too long to get to all those points if i went ahead with the cheating plot, so i cut it. but i still feel like all of these actions are in-character and this easily COULD have been the reality if matt hadn't had that one burst of courage on the dock lol

[hello-nichya-here]

Hello Nichya, I hope that you are doing well health wise and that there have not been any new complications or problems.

If it’s okay, I’d like to ask a writing question (or several) of you. I have read many of your Zucest romance. Both in terms of the explicit and sexually intimate, and also in terms of fluff.

Which leads me to my main question, how do you write Zuecst so well? Can you give any writing advice in the general?

And how do you write the more sexually explicit fics? Without feeling awkward or something? How do decide on the tone of the intimacy? Such as the direction of act in you story “Forbidden Fruit” or “Fice Stages of Zucest” that has more of a focus on the power play sexual fantasy vs “Golden Days Silver Night” more relaxed and fluffy atmosphere.

And how does someone write in either the former or latter tone (mentioned above) without the writing being either insensitive or like the flustered ramblings of a horny teenager? Do you have a process? Or any advice you could offer? If not, all good.

Sincerely, an aspiring Zucest (and other ships) writer

I'm doing okay, still going to the doctor constantly to get more tests done to make sure there'll be no complications when it's time for the surgery. Very annoyed at all the bloodtests though - but thankfully the zucest gives me strength.

My main advice is: stop worrying. Embrace the chaos, embrace the horny, embrace the fluff. If you're feeling like writing something super kinky, or problematic, or toxic, or weird, go for it. If you're feeling like making them cuddle and hold hands while looking into each other's eyes lovingly, do it. If you want to write a lengthy scene where they have an honest talk about their rivalry, their mistakes, their traumas, their love, the whole thing, just sit down and write it.

Let it all out at once, then read the draft after a few hours or a day, edit out anything you found unnecessary, repetitive or that doesn't fit quite right, add other stuff if you feel like it, then post it. Zucest is legitimately one of those ships that basically writes itself, you just pick the scenario for it to take place in and how involved they are with each other already.

If you want a more coherent, complex, long story with an actual plot, write down a list of the stuff you've got planned, then go write some drafts, then post the first chapter once you've got enough stuff figured out - and don't be discouraged if you feel like changing stuff, it's your story.

If you're having fun with it, it's good enough. And if you want to get even better, you just keep on writing, be it long fics, one-shots, or both. Let the intrusive zucest thoughts win and do as they please.

[asachuu]

A lot of people are talking about Arthur’s age right now to the point even I know about it from under my rock, but instead of stating the obvious and simply assuming everyone is in on everything already, I’ll just ask this: what is actually so unbelievable about him being 27? I’ve heard folks say that it would mean he would be 15-16 at the time of joining his organization, which is indeed correct, but somehow, this comes as a surprise or something unacceptable, and I don’t understand why? The two literal fandom favorites, Dazai and Chuuya, met at fifteen years old when one was a mafia member already and the other joined at the same age, and no one seems to find that unbelievable?

Anyway, since I have my two cents on this matter, I have to shove the rest of this under the cut, but please bear with me here.

I presume people are mostly shocked for that reason, though do correct me if I’m wrong— I do see how it could be inconceivable to think of his whole entire background, memories, memoir and so on as being attributed to a 15-19 year old instead of someone far older, but if that’s due to any other reason than it simply not meeting expectations thanks to some former headcanons, I’m not too sure why. Obvious Fifteen parallels aside, it’s not as if BSD is some light-hearted series where characters going through incredibly harsh events we cannot even imagine have to be of legal age and in perfect circumstances to be able to handle it— I suppose some could be wondering about that aspect, but it would match up with the whole feel and plot of the story, and no part of it feels out of place. I’ll admit I used to believe Arthur was 36-37 at the time of his death as I didn’t know of his age either, but upon seeing he was a decade younger, I didn’t exactly think it to be nonsense for the sake of him being “too young”, and not to mention, this would also mirror his IRL counterpart, being 16 at the time of meeting Verlaine— which you absolutely could say is too young, considering the entire story between them, but it did happen, and BSD is based on the real-life authors after all— so I don’t see any argument against this which truly makes sense, all things considered.

That aside, I will say that Arthur’s canonical age specifically matters to me, unlike some other characters’ ages, and perhaps my reasoning could be a shared one that contributes to some of this confusion, and that is because it does change the perspective of Fifteen/Stormbringer to quite an extent. I had a whole post drafted about this already a week ago, but it seems to be even more relevant now, so I’ll just throw a part of it here and the rest in a reblog to not derail too much.

In my opinion, if one is to read Arthur’s memoir from Stormbringer, it feels much different to think of it as written by an adult as opposed to a teenager, purely because of its content— the character who has no family to return to, no loved ones or friends or even personal feelings he is allowed to have due to his job, the one who is overjoyed to finally have a partner whom he could make any difference to and who is already prepared to be forgotten after his death anyway, is not actually fully grown up, which maybe some are having a hard time accepting, I’m not too certain.

To me, this view on the story is indeed a lot sadder, especially if one is to consider his only partner betrayed him at 19 instead of whatever other theory could be in place, alongside all else I won’t be mentioning here as I believe I wrote a long enough essay about those two as is, but I don’t think any of it is strange or odd-sounding. If I may, in my personal opinion, I actually believe it makes far more sense, and not because it once again would align with his IRL counterpart even here— no, rather considering his behavior in Fifteen of desperately trying to find a way to remember his best yet only friend, likely because he hadn’t had anyone by his side from such a young age and clearly latched onto the first person he could have had alongside him, which could be a fully applicable theory even if you hadn’t seen the pair in any unrequited romantic contexts that could have been his motive. Does it make the story far more sorrowful? Yes. But does it make the story nonsense and unbelievable? Absolutely not. At this point, I would be so much more surprised if he wound up actually being 37 as I and what I suspect is a decent amount of others guessed at first, because in that case, I would somewhat understand the other side to my arguments— I still wouldn’t agree with them as I never did, even in the past when I didn’t have any extra information, but I could potentially see where they’re coming from at the very least.

I’ll just briefly acknowledge that perhaps some saw the memoir implying Arthur being more of Paul’s mentor at the time, being much older and wiser than him as would be expected, but I don’t think this was ever anyhow highlighted in the novels to make it clear that Arthur could be considered as such entirely— it was only said he would be the one to raise him, which I admit would not leave me assuming the given character is 15, but all things considered, it still aligns with everything above. I also have to acknowledge that in Fifteen, he is referred to as an “older” member of the Port Mafia, but I believe that refers to the eight years he spent in it, and was not meant to be an indicator of his actual age at the time, although compared to Chuuya and Dazai back then, perhaps 27 could indeed be seen as older in a very relative sense. Still, neither of these things are a direct contradiction to his supposed age, and while I’m not here to “prove” he’s 27 or 37 or whatever else one could assume, since I don’t have any other source of information other than the S3 guidebook and don’t have any reason to come up with alternative theories, hence why I choose to trust it unless official sources state otherwise, I’m only here because it surprises me how many people are shocked by this, as if many other characters in BSD weren’t in the same exact age range at the time of drastic or serious events happening around them/to them. I assume that, for some, this is merely something which goes against their personal headcanons or is just wholly unexpected, with nothing more in-depth sitting behind it, at whom this post is not aimed whatsoever, but I saw some saying it doesn’t even fit into canon at all, which…how, exactly? Because I don’t see it at all.

[zoyalannister]

agree also gideon in the end is protrayed just surprised thomas likes alastair and doesn't hate him, i expected him accepting thomas but being wary of alastair as he was one of the people who spread the rumours of him cheating on sophie, but maybe he doesn't care

also in the end grace is pictured close to anna and ari, and then thomas and alastair are also pictured as close to them, is weird since during the series they barely talk

also the grave scene where they bury things, anna does not bury anything, because she says she likes all her choices, wouldn't grief made her blame herself for kit and made her want to bury something?

the point of leaving gabrily alone to grief does not make sense when gideon and sophie are surrounded by people and are also supposedly grieving, is said sona becomes friends with them as well as flora, so is one more thing that does not make sense in the book

there are other inconsistencies like every adult showing when the battle was finished and ari running to flora and anna staying behind, and then scenes later is mentioned gabriel was there, why did she not go to ther father? or had any reaction? maybe cassandra slipped the name later on as she was mentioning many adults but did not care much of it

the india travel is repeated many times and makes me think she will write a small piece of that, probably centered on ari and making he rhave the angst plot as she is meeting her bio family, i doubt she would center on anna's grief as canonically she stated many times during the epilogue she had not been as happy since she was a child. weird considering anna had accepting and good parents and is never mentioned she grew up sad or anything like that.

Gideon canonically doesn’t care about his family and this is another proof, any normal person wouldn’t be super happy immediately that their son is dating the guy who spread rumors about them cheating on their wife. But hey, Gideon is super loved by the fandom because he generated one half of the most popular ship, so why using logic?

To be honest I like the idea of Grace being close to Anna and Ari, probably they bonded over the fact that they’re the only characters grieving Kit for more than 15 minutes, but I find the idea of Thomastair and AriAnna being friends hilarious. It feels like the book is trying to tell you that gay people are automatically friends, it's not like they have a personality besides their sexual orientation, right?

Anna burying nothing is embarrassing, just CC wanting to show her as the edonistic character, but it looks like it comes from an old draft where Kit didn’t die since it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense also that she was unhappy after childhood, are you fucking kidding me? Her family was well off, she had friends and a supportive family, everyone accepted she was lesbian and proud, she had a lot of sex, why was she unhappy?? It’s never mentioned, but I guess that in CC's vision having a relationship automatically multiplies your happiness.

Don't get me starte about the stupidest and cringiest """"battle""""" ever, Gabriel is probably mentioned just because CC realized at the last second that she needed someone from the TID gang and probably Gabriel was the random picked name. It doesn’t make any sense that Anna doesn’t run to him since it's the first time she sees him since Kit’s death, but this scene would make sense of Kit wasn’t supposed to die.

(Yes, I'll never believe that Kit’s death was planned since it's treated like shit and has no consequence, and obviously Matt and Sona were set up for dying).

As for the TID gang leaving Gabrily alone, I will be more explicit even if I will attract haters: it makes sense to me that they support each other and not Gabrily because they are shit people. They were shits as teenagers, they are shit as adults and the epilogue confirms so.

Anna and Ari will have their novella so CC can cross out the "WW couple" on the checklist for her short stories collection, and as you said it will probably be either about Ari or AriAnna being tourists and nothing of the grief will be mentioned.

[bropunzeling]

fic author Never Have I Ever brady/quinn?

oh gosh do i want to write a fic for them so bad. i am a bit intimidated just bc i have mutuals who are Hughes Bros Scholars and i am not a scholar, merely auditing the classes as it were, but like. they're besties! they had to do a stupid odd couple video for the draft! the way quinn looked at brady at his wedding gets me!!!!!!!! and while i have some concepts that i am v seriously batting around (ballet quinn you are IN THE QUEUE) i also have some where idk if i will ever get to it, and one of the latter is the one where brady gets divorced.

the thing is, no one ever gets married expecting to get divorced, and brady certainly did not get married expecting to get divorced. two years ago, he would've said they were happy and he wouldn't have been lying; a year ago, he would've said they were happy and it would've been - not the truth, exactly, but not a lie, either. they were happy, most of the time. happy enough.

and then they weren't happy. these things happen, apparently. you can try your hardest, give 110%, and it still won't be what the other person needs. what they thought life would be like and what you did aren't lining up, can't line up. hard to stay married after that.

they finalize the paperwork during brady's bye week. when he signs on the line, brady can't help feeling like he's fallen short, somehow.

the sens do okay. make the playoffs, which has happened more frequently than it hasn't in the past four years; lose in the first round, which is - also pretty typical. brady hangs out with his siblings for a few weeks, hits the golf courses with dad, tries to keep his mind off his season.

mom sometimes mentions his ex in passing, but only when she thinks brady can't hear her. brady tries not to be too upset about it.

midway through the summer, brady goes to michigan. he didn't go to the lake that much when he was younger - always spending time with his family, and then with his girlfriend, and then it was his wife, and well - there wasn't time. but this summer, he's at loose ends, and he accepts quinn's invitation gratefully.

the best thing about it is quinn is the only one who isn't treating brady like he's different, like something happened. which, yes, a lot of things happened, but that doesn't mean brady wants to think about it. brady wants to try out jetskiing, brady wants to beat quinn and then jack and then trevor at beer pong. brady wants to help quinn buy groceries and put on a party. brady wants to do circuits and watch quinn's t-shirt cling to his back. brady wants to sit on the dock and talk about nothing, the way they used to all the time as teenagers.

about a week in, brady realizes that he doesn't just want to sit on the dock with quinn. he wants to put his hand on the small of quinn's back. he wants to rub a knuckle along the nape of quinn's neck, to see if quinn will flinch, or shiver. he wants to - does, not on purpose, but he does - reach out and tug at quinn's hair. longer now. it falls in his eyes. he wants to kiss quinn, and one night, he does.

for a millisecond, quinn kisses back, and it's up there for one of the best things that's ever happened to brady.

then quinn pulls back, eyes flat and revealing nothing. when brady tries again, quinn puts a hand between their chests. when brady asks why - quinn liked it, quinn wants it, he kissed back - quinn stares at the splintery wood of the dock and says, you don't get to just - decide you want to kiss me because you're sad, or you - you don't get to. not when i -

quinn doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't have to. brady knows, now. he can read it all over quinn's face.

[knockyasocksoff2022]

May I Love You?

(A/N: I'm really on a roll with these Ranpo relationship reveals. This one contains some other couples too. No beta we die like that guy Mushitarou dropped off that building.)

(1,472 words)

Ranpo's Perspective

I deduced my boyfriend's– I mean rival's intentions days and days ago but he's been working on a new manuscript that I haven't had time to confront him about it. Ordinarily I would beat him to the punch but it's fun watching him be all shy.

A scratching sound from behind me brings my attention back to the office. I'd know that sound anywhere. Karl. My best friend. It's time.

I turn, and he drops the leather bound volume in my lap. I start to reach in my pocket but he skitters away before I can give him a treat. How odd? He's just as much a sweet tooth as I am, is Edgar mad that I haven't mentioned his recent project? I'd assumed he'd wanted space to work on it.

I open the volume.

It's blank.

There isn't a trace of ink or indenting on any of the pages. This is getting more confusing by the second, which is distressing because confusion isn't something I feel often. Then I sport it.

As soon as I see the note taped to the back, the situation becomes obvious. Ah, Edgar, you managed to stump me for a second! You really are my soulmate.

I start to get up but the amount of effort Edgar must have poured into this, given how shy he is, must have been immense. If he's asking this of me I really should respect his work.

Already itching to see the book's author, I turn over the last page and read the carefully scrawled note. Edgar's handwriting can appear at times somewhat messy, almost fevered, when his mind is supplying him with ideas much faster than his hand can move. But this note has been written in delicate decadent script, the characters almost taking on the appearance of English cursive as they curve elegantly. He thought about this, most likely writing several drafts until it was perfect.

It reads:

"I'm sorry, I know I should be doing this in person, but I'd be far too embarrassed with all of your colleagues present. I suppose this is what I get for being too impatient to wait until your work hours ended. And I'm sure by this point you've already deduced my intentions, however I do wish to do this formally, so if you have any intention of accepting my offer, meet me outside."

I'd been expecting this, I know I had but I can't help the way my heartbeat accelerates, pounding in my chest, filling me with butterflies.

I almost knock over Kenji as I run out the door.

Yosano's Perspective

I've never seen Ranpo run before.

Well, I have, but that was when we were about to be murdered. Other than dashing around when he accompanies one of us shopping, his pace is light and even, without a care in the world.

Now he sprints through the office, heading straight for the door. Last I checked there's no new murders he's been asked to help with. Does he even know where he's going?

I saw that Racoon, Kyle, I think its name is, drop off a manuscript from the Guild author that comes by often. Did something in the book upset Ranpo that much? And why didn't Ranpo get sucked into the book after the first page?

I hope we don't have to go look for him, especially since we're down four people. Kunikida and Atsushi are out on a reconnaissance mission and it's the Tanizakis' day off.

I start down the stairs after him, he doesn't even turn at my footsteps, and when I get almost out the door I see the raccoon again, and a sleek black car, an American company.

The author is here! I see . . . that means I should give them some privacy then. I google and creep as quietly as I can back up the stairs, so as not to disturb the two men.

Dazai is already standing at the window, looking out over the street below. I go to meet him, still smiling as I think of the detective and the author together.

Dazai looks over at me nodding to the boys below us. Even though they're older than both Dazai and I, I can't shake the feeling of watching two teenagers have their first love. Maybe it's because they're both so different from others of their age. Maybe it's because both our pasts have aged Dazai and I so much beyond our physical years.

We're silent as we watch them share an embrace and then a kiss.

I reach over to the desk and pull the manuscript from the table, a note falls out. My smile only grows as I read it. A love confession, or nearly. Ranpo has a boyfriend now.

Dazai sighs, turning away from the window, back still resting against the sill, looking back to the office. His gaze is fixed on me now, something like a smile on his lips. A smile different from the wide grins he usually flashes, it doesn't look so painted on. A smile tainted by all he's been through. Real but fleeting, never wide or bright enough because of a dark and twisted past. I don't think he minds it, he should, but he doesn't.

"That makes four of us with partners from opposing organisations" The chuckles that leave his lips is a twisting hollow sound, not unlike his smile.

"Yeah" is all I can say, trying to ground myself in the calm moment. I force myself to think only of how happy Ranpo looks, the rosy blush dusting his cheeks. If I'm happy for him I can't be sad for me.

Gentle footsteps echo, Kenji is at the window beside us. He stares at Ranpo and his new boyfriend.

"Wow! Ranpo-san looks so happy, good for him!' Kenji cheers.

Dazai pats the farmer boy on the head and presses his pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. "How about we keep this between us. Afterall, this isn't our secret to tell." 

Kenji's eyes widen in realisation and he looks around just to make sure the office is empty as he nods, "Alright, of course I won't mention it, you have my word." 

"Thank you, Kenji-kun." Dazai's words are so quiet I almost can't hear them and from there silence creeps in, the comfortable kind, the happiness still like a blanket over me even after we turn away from the window.

The warmth of the feeling only dulls when something occurs to me.

"Wait, earlier you mentioned that there are five of us dating those from other organisations, who's the fourth? Did Atsushi and Akutagawa finally get together?" 

But that would still leave one couple?

"Nope!" The grin is back on Dazai's face again.

I try to puzzle it out. There's me and Kouyou, Dazai and Chuuya, and now Ranpo and the Guild Author. Who's the last couple?

Finally I give up. "Then who?" 

"Not my secret to tell either." 

I feel the cool steady pressure of someone's gaze on me. There's only one person who could make you feel that just by looking at you, the only person I've ever met who has such an unshakably calm aura. The President.

I turn to greet him, but he's already walking out.

"Oh, President, where are you going?" I ask, because I'm a little embarrassed to be caught just staring out the window doing nothing during working hours.

He offers a small smile, "Just out. You needn't bother yourself, return to what you were doing. I'll be gone for the remainder of the day, but should you need me for anything you know where to contact me."

I watch him go, he's taking his bag with him. It's rare for him to leave early, whatever he's doing must be important.

Yukichi's Perspective

I shake my head as I head out the office door.

Yosano-kun and Dazai-kun have resumed their banter. I listen for a moment.

"Dazai, pleeease!" Yosano-kun drags out the words in hopes of breaking Dazai-kun's steel resolve.

"Nope!" I can picture that clownish smile of his, so like the look someone I know gets when he's about to pull something mischievous, only Dazai-kun wears it all the time. As if it was plastered onto his face or he put it on so many times he forgot to take it off, or forgot how.

I continue down the stairs, the last thing I hear being Yosano-kun's scream of: "You little shit!"

I know Dazai-kun won't reveal the name of the fifth agency member dating someone from another organisation. He's withstood far more gruesome torture with a smile on his face. Most of the time I can only hope he'll relax into a life in the light. I wish he would accept that he is truly safe now, but now I'm grateful. If that name were to get out it wouldn't be good anyone involved

Speaking of couples, I owe a certain surgeon money. 

Oh, my Ranpo, my beloved son, why couldn't you have waited another month to start dating Poe-san?

(A/N: Even Dazai doesn't know about Tachizaki)

(A/N: I've leaned into a sodter style for this one, because I liked the last one I wrote so much, and as I mentioned in my previous post I love writing fukumori so I wanted to included them. Also I like to think that this title has a slight double meaning. Yukichi wonders if it truly is alright to be in such a deep realtionship with someone from an enemy organisation, but love is love and it can't be helped❤️.)

[disco-cola]

ok rant so my copy of daisy jones and the six arrived and ive been excited for it bc i thought i could really dive into it and it might be so good that you forget it didnt actually happen and im only on page 26 and im already bothered and confused bc only a few pages earlier they were talking about how the original first band lineup got together and billy dunne says that this chuck guy was "a few years older" than the rest of them and on page 26 (the vietnam draft section) it said his birthday is april 1949 and he got drafted while the dunne brothers were "both born in december" and didnt get drafted. but again just very few pages earlier at the beginning where it is mentioned that the brothers' dad left in 1954 the first sentence this billy dude says is literally "i was seven when my dad left" which would make his birthday out to be in december 1947, consequently making HIM the eldest band member?? im sorry it might be a small detail to some but failed continuity things like that just bother me so much omg

also idk as i said i only just started out but i've already noticed a few sentences said by the main characters that sound like something a gen-y or gen-z person would say but not an older person - and as i understand the book is mainly conducted of fake interviews the author did with a fictional band when they were already older and decades have passed - in an interview talking about his or her youth in the 60s

also in the few pages i read theres this hyatt house concierge criticizing "thirty-something rockstars sleeping with teenagers" and also billy talking about seeing his dad at that wedding gig dancing with a girl their age calling him a creep and dont get me wrong, viewing these age gap relationships critically is absolutely right but this is supposed to be in the late 60s, age gaps were way more normalized back then (they actually still are way too normalized in society right now in my opinion tbh quick side note leo dicaprios new gf?? hello when does this dude get finally cancelled?) and so many people in that book are so "woke"? idk honestly also the whole oh so perfect oh so beautiful oh so talented daisy character is already highly unbelievable to me, the way everyone raves about her in the interviews is just kind of too much and quite frankly, so far i really dont dig the book :/ you just feel it's not actually from someone who was there, it's a romance story set in the 60s/70s rather than a 60s/70s story including some romance.. i really should have read the blurb on the back of the book before blindly ordering it man... just my personal impression and opinion (quick upside tho: the format with the fake interviews and the fact she actually wrote several complete song lyrics is very interesting and remarkable, i've never seen a novel in that writing format before and it's really original)

[groovesnjams]

1 / 50

"dazies" by yeule

DV:

Layered and allusive, "dazies" is one of the densest songs - on one of the most intense and elaborate albums - that I heard all year. It's a song concerned with trans identity and physicality and cannibalism (among other things.) These are, coincidentally and unintentionally, qualities it shares with last year's #1 song, Ethel Cain's "American Teenager", something that only registered for me about halfway through writing this year's posts but which is impossible to ignore now that I have. What is going on with transness and cannibalism in the 2020s? And what does it mean that these two artists - not frequently mentioned together - have both made that connection and both delivered the most unforgettable visions of the past two years? I am almost certainly not the person most qualified to answer these questions! But since as far as I can tell I'm the only one asking them, here we go: I would say that the current ascension of fascism and accompanying anti-trans movement has created a sort of pressure cooker environment that's intensifying connections that might otherwise be subtextual. So we're seeing similar themes bubble up more frequently than they otherwise might; Ethel Cain joked, "Funny, I never considered myself tough" and now yeule coos, "Violently biting off the flesh/ Of your own/ Of your own/ Body."

This is not exactly the same, to be clear: one of these characters has been murdered and the other is eating themselves alive. Both are fucked but consent and bodily autonomy only apply to the second. Conceptually, though, they're operating on the same frequency, delving in the same vein of ore. They're about the body as fuel, as substance and sustenance. And to be fair, all humans are worm food in the end! But transness - the sense that on whatever level our physical or perceived self isn't right - puts this fact on the surface; trans people are both the worms and the wormfood, consuming the self to become it. And this must happen within an era where the world - and more specifically, the people with power - hate trans people, and where trans people must try to simply exist knowing this fact, hating that they know it, and either letting it consume them or consuming themselves first. Violence is a form of control, and the threat of violence is one which trans people must carve out an existence under, and violence toward the self is one of the last refuges when nothing else feels controllable. (This feels uncomfortably pro-self-harm or pro-ana so let me caveat that there is a difference between bad things and good ones, and trans affirmation is firmly in the latter category.)

The self must perish so that it can be remade, and as we know, destruction is just another form of creation. So if consumption is destruction then self-consumption is simply self-creation. This post is starting to both spiral into itself and get away from me, so let's consider it a rough draft to be rewritten if this theme continues to find a home in future songs; destruction and creation never end; the point is that "daizies" was the richest and most rewarding and enveloping song I heard all year. Anyway. When yeule sings, "Violently biting off the flesh of your own/ Of your own/ Body" I'm pretty sure they mean something like all of this. And when those guitars howl and shriek I'm pretty sure that's what it feels like, too.

MG:

"dazies" (and all of tortured, beautiful softscars) is best homage to the Smashing Pumpkins we got this year, maybe ever! As someone who grew up relating hard to the original, what made the Pumpkins (and Billy, specifically -- I won’t apologize for him except to say that everything he does, everything, makes sense when you read the story of his life) so special was that they were openly hurting. It wasn’t under a slick veneer, it wasn’t intellectual, it wasn’t cool at all. It was just sobbing and screaming at the same time, and often there was a lot of prettiness in this painful offering. It's what made them acutely embarrassing, as well. I bought and sold Siamese Dream more times than I can remember; as soon as I accepted that I liked that record and that, yeah, I felt those ways and did those things and always cried to “Mayonnaise” I immediately felt a whiplash effect of self-rejection. Those were bad feelings, bad things, stop crying about wanting to be you. And it goes on! That psychic rubble falls to dust in the background of my mind but I no longer pretend to be someone who doesn’t love Siamese Dream. And I think yeule, and the broader acceptance and promotion of yeule as, like, not a joke, not something where we say “despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage HA HA HA,” you know, laughing at someone’s pain, suggests that no one has to pretend to not love Siamese Dream anymore. I think that’s great, that’s really beautiful. I hope that wave of acceptance extends and swells and begins to encompass the meaningful and not just the petty differences of taste and opinion.

yeule sings of “cries and cries and cries,” of hurting their body as a proxy for joy, of their “sick heart, sick mind” and it feels like some cycle is complete. The ouroboros is also an example of self-consumption and completed cycles, but this particular ouroboros feels more like running out of thread in a weaving, another piece is carefully attached and the project continues. The snake of unbearable sadness coils atop itself instead of taking its tail in its mouth. The old stories end and the new ones are joined to their endings through recognition of ourselves in the other. Today the kids can take comfort in yeule, a more perfect avatar for not being ok.