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ladyluscinia · 11 months

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Organizing my thoughts on OFMD 2x01 - 2x03

Strong start to a season. I really enjoy the black comedy aspect of the show, and the "all these people are kinda terrible" aspect, so win for me! The opening scene gave me a lot of thoughts. Actually, lots of stuff gave me thoughts that I'm gonna dump here (as I rewatch the episodes since I spent the first go around whooping and cheering more than paying attention to details lol) so I can start picking through them more coherently.

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Ok, first. OHMYGOD EDWARD AND IZZ- *I am yanked off the stage* Ahem. BlackHands thoughts will go into a different post, so as not to overwhelm the many other things going on worth discussing. (Link to post)

So. Real first point:

Kraken Era

Big thing I was absolutely wrong about was how dark Edward's Kraken arc would go. I was counting on a very handwavy resolution that would still let him do some fucked up shit, but I expected it to be mostly externally directed violence that toed up to a potential line but didn't quite cross it. Reminiscent of Flint's vengeance rampage after Miranda is killed. Self-destructive harm but only tangential harm of others in your social sphere.

That is... we did not get that. But what we did get I am very here for.

I'll be honest - I wasn't sure they were bold enough in a romcom to blast right over the line into horrifying and then be so audacious it looped back to funny, but they did. And I think the tone is working for them so far. Big saving grace is they went way further with Edward's cruelty but they counterbalanced it by going way further with the suicidal themes, which made the whole situation more extreme and sympathetic. He should still probably apologize tho.

The Breakup Boat

Frenchie my beloved! Also Fang & Jim & Archie & Izzy! Literally the breakup boat is a resounding success all around and I adore every second of their fucked up trauma bonding. Win after win after win.

Frenchie is repression king and it's hilarious. I love how he gets named first mate for presumably being the only one who sounds plausibly honest when getting interrogated, tries to turn the job down, and then doesn't follow a single order while vibing. Also the bonding with Izzy?!? He's steps in during the intervention. He hides him after Edward shoots him, and then later he's checking in on him and leaning against his leg in the cell. Please Frenchie get all up in that Edward and Izzy mess!

And I'm trying not to turn this into a breakup boat recap but also Fang sobbing through basically every scene. The wooden boy story. Jim's terrible voices. Izzy hiding in the walls. "He's our dick" to "He was your friend" holy fuckkkkkk. And the whole mutiny scene was amazing. Jim saying fuck this toxic bullshit and Izzy saving them all!!! (Sidenote: love how all the nameless extras got washed overboard in the storm. More bodycount!)

The tearing into a seagull like zombies scene - perfect. Archie recognizing Stede (did they tell her about Stede in hushed whispers or was it literally just Izzy's singular statement?). All backing each other up on the "retirement" story. Izzy taking the blame to motivate Stede in trying to defend the crew again.

Trauma bonding WIN!

Also sympathetic Izzy has been real forever despite misreads of S1 and the mistaken predictions they spawned, but once again... Izzy!!!

BlackBonnet "On A Break"

They are idealizing each other so fucking hard. Also Stede what on earth are you talking about in the first episode??? "He's just blowing off some steam." "I'm afraid that your life is better without me?" MY GUY are you reading that list of what Edward has been up to??? Denial so strong.

So we have Stede still full of self-loathing and simultaneously convinced Ed couldn't want him but also avoiding the realization that he hurt him really bad because Ed wanted him. And we have Edward actively suicidal over feeling unlovable and determined to murder-suicide his situationship and the kids, except he can't kill himself so he's trying to make everyone else do it.

(And, you know, Edward is very pointedly refusing to see how the people around him would care for and support him if he would let them - even when they straight up offer it to his face - because he is more concerned with the misery of his own twisted narrative about being fundamentally unlovable than whether or not that is a true statement. Stede doesn't want him and everyone else is just a prop for his depression's final act. Very "I don't have any friends" of him - shoutout to that flashback in his purgatory sequence too.)

Edward's self-loathing throwing him into the water, but Edward starting to save himself well before merman!Stede shows up. Because he does, deep down, want to live with or without Stede. Very strong. Like that. Also the idealization on Edward's end of envisioning Stede as a legit magical being of golden scales??? Fuck, you two need to get some perspective.

Stede's Crew

Trauma Lucius I was not counting on, but Lucius going from BlackBonnet supporter to FUCK YOU STEDE was fun. Also Stede offering to be supportive and then immediately trying to nope right out.

Sea Witch Buttons!!!!!! We're going to get naked Buttons charging into a scene screaming about how he's a seagull or something, aren't we?

Confirmation that Oluwande can't read in the funniest way. Well I guess on reflection the scrolls are probably in Chinese so reading wouldn't help, so maybe this point is null.

I did like the note of Stede knowing "The Soul Reaper's" real name. Piracy hyperfixation bonus.

JimOlu vs JimArchie... If we get another poly ship then I'm calling SteddyHands real. I'm just saying.

Oluwande taking initiative to step up and flex his boytoy powers to advocate diplomatically for the crew - very Captain material of him. Also conveniently doubled as a distraction so he was essential to the plan. Go Olu!

Antagonists New and Old!

Spanish Jackie was a treat. I enjoy that she still hates Stede. The Swede literally became a new man by marrying her. AND WE SAW THE HUSBANDS!

Prince Ricky is so far just kind of a shady classist scumbag - presumably that's going somewhere.

Zheng Yi Sao on the other hand... interested what's happening with this whole armada plan she's apparently enacting. The whole Olu boytoy arc was fun. I'm not as into the whole "girlboss" approach to every single female character in this show so far, so, uh, concerned about that. Hoping for more exploration of how she's doing Stede's version of piracy but what exactly is off about it? Because so far there's no real reason to resist her, other than maybe the whole "I didn't conquer China by listening to pirates ramble about their feelings" bit.

Hornigold. Yeah, I know he was a subconscious manifestation of Edward's self-loathing but I still have hope. "Last time I saw you, you said you were gonna flay my skin and feed it back to me." Does that not sound like a great foreshadowing for S3???

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2 #breakup boat #frenchie ofmd #zheng yi sao ofmd #ofmd 2x01 #ofmd 2x02 #ofmd 2x03 #ladyluscinia

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fuck-kirk · 11 months

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Izzy Rant

Honestly I feel like out of everything I’m mostly mad that Izzy got such a lame ass death. Like. He didn’t even sacrifice himself for someone he loved. The crew he loved. He got shot by accident by the lamest mother fucker on the planet. He didn’t get to go out fighting, sword in hand. He died from a surprise gunshot wound dealt by a coward who was running away from him. So FUCKING lame. Which like, I get it, not everyone gets to go out in a blaze of glory but damn if the narrative couldn’t have a least given him that.

Him dying had no narrative significance other than to absolve Ed. They literally fridged him. I’ll even argue that Izz’s arc was by NO MEANS resolved at all and he still had so much to add to the narrative.

So, not only did his death mean NOTHING, it also just happened in the most rushed, lame ass way possible. And the crew hardly even looked sad. I understand that most of this is due to it being rushed, but if you decide to kill off a fan favorite character I think you should either figure out a way to do it in the best way possible, or just like. Not do it at all.

Also, I get that using his leg, sword, cravat and ring to make his grave marker is Aesthetic™️ but to me it’s just like. Super fucked up that they didn’t bury him with those things ?? Huh?? That stuff will just like. Get lost or stolen eventually …. Like why would he not be buried with those things.

Also also, if there is a season 3…imagine having the titanic luck of having Mr. CON O’NEILL on the cast and killing him off. Con plays off everyone so well and I’d argue is one of, if not the best actor out of everyone on set (no shade to the rest of the crew. I love them all. But Con is just built different). It’s such a WASTE is the thing that gets me. Con as Izzy adds SO much to the show and a s3 without him just feels like it would be so lackluster.

Alright. I think that’s all. Had to get it out of my system.

#mott txt #ofmd #now that I’ve said this hopefully I can stop THINKING about it #I’m just going to retreat into fanfiction and enter my denial stage now #*waves hands* it was all a dream #Izzy actually sailed away with the crew into the sunset and left Stede and Ed on their beach the end #also the izzy thing is not the only thing I’m unhappy with in regards to the finale or the whole season #I feel like a lot of my fav characters got the short end of the stick #like I wanna see so much more of everyone else. like Jim and oluwande and roach and frenchie #and lucious and Pete’s wedding was also so rushed :(

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grvntld · 3 months

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23 june 2024—slow sunday 🤍✨️

we had a late night last night since we celebrated grandma's 80th birthday, so i actually slept in earlier in the morning. well, to be fair, i actually woke up early—around 5am—so as to take the furbebis out and hv them do their thingy since moosey had a bit of a hangover. hehe.

after bringing them out and making coffee for moosey, i decided to go back to bed and go 😌💤. i woke up 30 minutes past 9am. lol. actually, moosey woke me up since breakfast is ready. he made a delicious noodle dish, which i wasnt able to take a photo of, but omg, it was soooo good!!

then i gave our youngest furbebi, naruga, a bath since she was kinda stinky, tbh. wahahahahaha. she's still a puppy kasi so hindi talaga namin siya masyado pinapaliguan pa. she looked so fresh, though, so i guess izz safe to assume that she felt fresh too! she kept kissing me after as if she was saying thank you to me for giving her a bath. huhu. our furbebis are so malambing, and i love eht.

i then prepped for my sponty catch up sesh with a few of the gOrLies. sayang i wasnt able to ask one of them to take photos of me, ang cutie pa naman ng outfit ko. hehu. ulitin ko na lang the outfit. nyahahahhaha. eniwey, we talked about a lot of stuff, cried about a lot of stuff, and laughed about a lot of stuff. i truly missed them. we truly missed each other. i brought them to the cafe that ive been making tambay at recently. im so happeh they liked naman the food that they ordered and that their go-to drink na rin sa cafe na yun is my go-to drink, the ice blended biscoff one. izz just soooo good tologo!!! we also loved up their rigatoni alla vodka, ugh, so delish!!!

now im at home na with moosey and the furbebis. the panganays were waiting for me to open the gate papunta sa room namin so that they could ask for some lambing. hehe. once i was able to decompress for a bit, of course, inallow na namin sila pumasok. mavara, the chikadora that she is, went straight to our window after getting her needed lambing from me. lol. we're all just resting now while moosey is playing on his ps5, his game of choice being ghost reckon 🎉🙆‍♀️💝🐶💝🙆‍♂️🎮

#cookie #cottoncandy #sana makapagchillnuman na rin us soon o kaya we can go tugstugstugs #sana mejj ma-free up sched namin tapos mejj magtugma-tugma namern ganOrn so we can 💃👯‍♀️✨️🥂✨️🍻✨️👯‍♀️💃

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technotalksnimien · 4 months

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Don’t be fooled by its name, it’s a great movie: The 3 Idiots reflection

Hi everyone! I’m back again for another blog. I sincerely apologize for not updating my blog lately. I got really busy at school. I got a free time now though. Well anyways, so much for that. I hope you’ll enjoy reading my blog as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Have a great day!

Have you ever wondered why is it called “3 Idiots”? If you haven’t watched the movie yet, you would probably wonder why. Why 3 Idiots though? Spoiler alert! Rancho, Raju and Farhan are the “3 idiots” despite belonging to a prestigious university. The reason why they are called three idiots is because of doing silly stuffs and they are way different from other students. The almost 3-hour long movie is considered to be among the greatest Indian films ever made. The film had huge social impact on education systems, not just in India, but across the globe. So if you haven’t watched it yet, you’re missing out! So much for that, let’s get over with the introductions and let me explain why 3 idiots is a “must watch”. Here are some of my reflections after watching the movie.

1.“Life is a race, if you don’t run fast, you’ll get trampled” – Virus.

A famous quote from the movie, 3 idiots. Life itself is NOT a race. It is us, who make it feel like a competition. People around us tells us that we have to always come first. First in class, first in anything that we do. Which usually stems from childhood, where we often hear them say, “you have to be like this”. Which gives the child a mindset that he or she has to excel in order to feel acceptance or belongingness which eventually leads to constantly seeking for validation and approval, making it the only way to reinforce the child’s sense of value and worthiness.

The education system has gradually become only about “who performed the best” and not about “who were able to perform”. Making it look like we are in a constant state of comparison with our peers. Life isn’t a race, nor a competition. Each of us have our own pace. If you get trampled, it’s okay. Stand up, and continue doing things that gives you meaning. Success isn’t measured on how fast you finished or how fast you got on top. There’s always a right time for everything. You don’t wait for it, but you make it happen.

2. Make your passion your profession

This is also one of the most crucial thing I learned from the movie, maybe because I can somehow relate. Programming isn’t really my passion. Although I took BSIT program, my love for science will never vanish. In my case, I had to be practical. Yes, it is not my passion but I believe someday, this field that I have chosen will bring me success. Farhan wants to become a wildlife photographer but he studied engineering to fulfill his father’s wish. He was never happy about it, but his parents were. Rancho advised Farhan to go after his dreams. I saw how passionate Farhan was. But at the same time, he set aside his dreams just to make his parents happy, which makes him a really good son. His father thinks that there’s not that much money in photography, but he said it will make him happy. This is so true even in real life. Some people have all the riches in the world but they never find contentment. Some are not that rich, but they are happy and contented. Life isn’t just about making money, it’s also about being happy. Those two come together. Even if you don’t earn that much when you start doing your passion, eventually, success will come to you because you love what you’re doing, and you are good at doing it.

3. Aal izz well (All is well)

Most mentioned phrase in the movie, the song is also captivating. What do “All is well” mean? We are so focused in achieving our goals for the future, that sometimes, we forget to enjoy things we have at the present. The phrases, “All is well” teaches us that everything is going to be alright. When life goes out of control, just say, all is well. It may not directly solve the problem, but it may increase one’s courage to face it. Positivity has a great impact when dealing with problems we think we can’t solve.

4. The power of friendship

Your friend circle influences your actions. At first, I kind of hated rancho for being such a jerk and a rebel. I felt like he’s influencing Raju and Farhan to be like him. But as the movie goes on, I finally understood what Rancho is trying to say all along. He sees Raju and Farhan as his friends that he doesn’t want them to be eaten up by the poor education system and encourages them to stand up for themselves. I recalled that when Virus told Raju to write a letter to expel him to the school, he can’t do it because he thinks of this parents, his paralyzed father. He said he can’t do it but then Virus told him to put Rancho’s name instead. I felt really bad that I expected him to betray Rancho. I kind of doubted Raju that time but I was shocked to see that he chose to commit suicide instead. He really is a true friend and I’m glad he was safe and recovered eventually. Their friendship is one of a kind, I even think it’s more of like a family. The people we choose to hang out with ultimately influences our actions and our future. Choose your friends wisely.

5. Learning doesn’t end even after you graduate

Education doesn’t stop. People are constantly learning. Education does not only exist inside academic institutions, but also outside of that. Education is not about memorizing, it’s about learning. For me, Silencer or Chatur was really a great student. He was successful at the end right? But he was not that happy. He’s still consumed by the anger he has for Rancho years ago; he thinks that Rancho is not as successful as him. Sad reality, there are successful people that looks down on others. They think that they are on top, they think they are relevant. They have degree and all, but they don’t have the manners. Looking back, Chatur was mostly relying on memorizing stuffs rather than studying about it. I liked how Rancho and his friends taught him a lesson when he gave a speech wherein they changed some of the words to humiliate Chatur. I actually agreed on what they did even though I sometimes think it’s already too much but it was also Chatur’s fault for not giving any effort to research on his speech. You can still learn even you are already working. You learn different things from different people every day. Understand, apply and make a change.

6. Education is a right, not a privilege

Last but not the least, and also one of my favorite lesson. Education is not a privilege; it is a human right. I firmly believe that every person has their right to quality education without discrimination. Let’s recall when we found out the plot twist in 3 idiots. The Rancho we know is not the real Rancho. His real name was Phunsukh Wangdoo. He was a servant boy who loved learning. He agreed to take real Rancho’s name, give him the degree in exchange for attaining the education and the learning he wants. It amazes me how wangdoo (Rancho) doesn’t care about the degree, to him, it is just a title. He cares more about what he learned. He impersonated the real Rancho just to send himself to school. Then it revealed that wangdoo (Rancho) is a school teacher at Ladakh. Wherein children are motivated by love of knowledge, like how schools should be. In addition to being very funny and interesting movie, “3 Idiots” also prompts crucial issues on shortcomings of the educational system and the quest for pleasure and fulfillment,

That’s all! I hope you learned something and enjoyed my blog. It took me hours to finish it because I really want a detailed reflection. Thank you! Xoxo.

#technopreneurship #techno #it #3 idiots

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evilasiangenius · 1 year

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The Seventh Prince of Hell

Genesis 3:(-7)-5.5

-7 And they assembled all the Lords, the Princes of Hell into a congregation together sometime after the seventh day, but not on a day of rest because even the Dark Council has a day off.

-6 When it came to pass that all grew weary of the powerful pointing presentations, Lord Beelzebub spake with a loud voice, saying unto them, One of uzz brotherzz muzzt go to Earth as Hell’s Represzentative and thwart the doings of Heaven; there izz no choice now that the Almighty has created humanzz. Who amongzt uzz shall take up the project? It comezz with a great deal of extra paperwork, much travel, and no overtime pay. And we shall not reimbursze anything and there shall be no per diem.

-5 From among the Princes of Hell, one stood and said unto the First Prince of Hell, I would like to know exactly why we’re being called to do this. As members of the Dark Council, shouldn’t we just send an ordinary demon instead? Or even a Duke at the very most? After all, there is plenty work in Hell for us without needing to send someone so high-ranked to do something so menial.

-4 It izz to our benefit to take this very seriouszly, Lord Aziraphale, saith Lord Beelzebub unto him. We who loszt the war; we shall not lose Earth az well. Now I will volunteer three Lords of Hell. Step forward when I say your name.

-3 And of the seven Princes of Hell, three stepped forward, and only three; not two nor five, which are the other prime numbers near three and definitely not one, which is not a prime at all but the unit. The first was the Second Prince, who is called Asmodeus and is a demon of lust. The second was the Seventh Prince, who is called Aziraphale and is a demon of collecting stuff. And the third was the Fourth Prince, who is not worth talking about because they only appear in this one scene and for no other reason than to have three characters. I think that Prince is the demon of executive dysfunction or erectile dysfunction or something like that. Maybe both.

-2 And the three Princes, all Lords of Hell and members of the Dark Council, vied for the honors of being Representative on Earth with great reluctance until one of them won. Or lost, depending on how you look at it.

-1 And having won the dubious honors of being Representative on Earth, the Prince of Hell was told by Beelzebub to get up there and make some trouble, whatever that meant.

0 Later that very day on Earth the waters that flowed through Eden burbled, and flames erupted underwater though that would be impossible as flames could not erupt from underwater, except possibly in the case of a volcano or a deep sea trench, but that was not the case in Eden which had neither. However, from this supernatural burbling came a dark creature that slithered onto land, inching itself up out of the waters, over the field, and up an apple tree.

1 Now the octopus was more subtle than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made, primarily because it was a beast of the sea and not the field. And not properly a beast, but more like a fish, especially since it came out of the waters. Except it wasn’t a fish. And he said unto the woman, So I hear that you were told by God that you could eat anything in the Garden of Eden. Did God say unto you, that you shall not eat of every tree of the garden?

2 And the woman said unto the octopus, we may eat of the fruit of the trees of the Garden.

3 But of the fruit of the tree that you’re clinging to, octopus, peering out at me from a shaded hollow in the trunk, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.

4 Was that really God who said that or just one of God’s servants? Because if you heard it from an Archangel named, I don’t know, Gabriel or Michael or Sandalphon or Uriel, you probably shouldn’t listen to them, because they’re all a pack of lying bastards, every last one of them. However, you can trust me. I’m an octopus.

5 And the octopus said unto the woman, You shall not surely die. Besides, God said everything, right? The set of everything is defined as all things in the set. Here we have that the set is all the fruiting trees of Eden. If God didn’t want you to eat from this tree, God would have said, Ye may eat of the fruit of some of the trees of the Garden, but clearly God said every tree. That’s just how formal logic works, you know.

5.5 In fact, not only are these fruits good in a pie, they will also give you knowledge. You will know from good and evil after just one bite. I can’t imagine that God would find that troublesome, could She? After all, you’ll be more like Her, closer to Her, once you can tell the difference between good and evil. Besides, among other things, tasting of the fruit will give you the knowledge of baking a pie...

#good omens #demon aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #reverse omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #the seventh prince of hell #temptation accomplished!#angel crowley appears in the next chapter

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yeahimwiththeband · 2 years

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--> with the band chapter 16

Happy New Year, Izzy

warning: social anxiety, big time. jump scare. horror? for someone with anxiety, horror.

A/N: izzy is THRIVING. and then she hears what her ex George has been up to. love on tour AU, angst!harry.

word count: 5.7k

Izzy picked up her phone and sent yet another message to Lydia. She had been back home from the tour for just four days and had heard nothing from either her or Harry. Or anyone.

As soon as she sent it, her phone rang. Izzy put it to her ear right away.

“Harry?” Izzy asked hopefully.

Static on the other end.

“Izzy, it’s Lydia.” Lydia’s voice sounded shaky. Izzy was ecstatic and concerned at the same time.

“Oh my god, thank god,” Izzy said, “I’m so happy to hear your voice!” Izzy mouthed to Olivia: it’s Lydia! Olivia gave a tight smile, put the keys back in Izzy’s hand, and left the room.

“Izzy,” Lydia said, steadying her voice. “I have something to tell you...George and I are together.”

“George… Do you mean Mitch?” Izzy asked desperately.

“No.”

“George from the tour George?”

“Yes.”

“You and George,” Izzy repeated. She wanted to make sure she was hearing correctly.

“Yes.”

“We got together after you and him broke up.”

“3 days ago. 3 days ago we broke up. And now you and George—“

“I’m sorry, I know it’s fast. I know it’s too fast. I’ve liked him for a while and you seemed so happy, but then you slept with Harry and it was obvious it wasn’t real between you two.”

“That’s fair,” Izzy said. She didn’t feel angry that they were together—she felt betrayed, betrayed at the lie. That her closest family member had liked the guy she dated for months, and not said a word. “How could you hide that from me, Lydia? That you liked him?”

“You needed him more than me.”

“That’s not for you to…” Izzy felt her anger bubble up into her voice, but she didn’t want to yell and have Lydia hang up. “I’m responsible for myself. I’m responsible for myself, and you’re responsible for yourself. You didn’t have to manage me that way. You should have said something.”

Silence on the other end.

“Were you… were you waiting for us to break up?”

“No, no. I meant it when I said I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I know,” Izzy said. She remembered their conversation on the beach. Lydia saying she was sorry.

“I tried to tell you, on the beach. I couldn’t do it. You were finally happy and thriving. You wouldn’t have stayed on the tour if you and George had broken up—you would have gone back home. It was the only way to keep you there and you wanted to be there so badly, instead of at home.”

Izzy took all this in. She felt her anger transfer somewhere else.

“Did George like you too, the whole time we were together?”

“No, no. I don’t think so. This is probably just a rebound,” Lydia said, laughing weakly. Her voice wasn’t believable.

“Why date someone I dated pretty seriously for months so quickly afterwards if it’s not even that serious for you? George just developed feelings over the last 3 days?”

“Maybe he used to have them, and then they went away when he met you. I sincerely believe that. When he met you, I think he found the answer to everything, and then it didn’t turn out like you thought - you said it wasn’t working. You said you weren’t happy.”

“Could you… is he there? Could you put him on the phone?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Izzy.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t be dating anybody right now. He’s running from something. He’s into some pretty hard stuff, Lydia—needle stuff. I saw him shooting something at that party. It’s not good. It’s not being a real artist. He’s just an addict. He needs help.”

“You don’t get—” Lydia started. “It’s different for him, for the band. They’re not regular people, Izzy, and it’s not normal life. It’s not supposed to be. And besides, he’s getting better.”

“I want you to get better too,” Izzy said. “Maybe the tour isn’t the best place for you either. I’m making a new life for myself here and it’s not what it was before. You could come home and we could—

“I’m not coming home, Izzy.”

Izzy paused. She felt like she had bungled it: she had a golden opportunity in the conversation to bring Lydia home, and she had failed. “You always can,” Izzy said.

“I know,” Lydia replied.

Izzy felt like she was back in the wreckage again and that this time she had found the whole black box. George and Lydia. George and Lydia?! George and Lydia. She remembered George pulling her out on stage at Inglewood in front of 10,000 people and telling them all that he was in love with her.

“When you said maybe he used to have them, that he maybe used to have feelings for you, what do you mean?”

Lydia ducked the question. “He was in love with you, Izzy, or the you that you let him see. His feelings for you were real.”

“Jess was right. My anxiety makes me blind. I didn’t see it, but that makes sense. Of course he liked you. But then why date me?”

“Because he really liked you. Honestly. He really, really did. The thing with Harry… it really killed his feelings, quickly. He said he could tell something was off in the last week, that you were maybe not feeling it…”

“Please don’t talk about me with him,” Izzy begged. “I can’t stand the thought of that.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“You and George. I can’t wrap my mind around it. You couldn’t have waited, like, a week or something? It just makes the whole thing - everything I went through with him - seem fake, from his side.”

“You were the one that was faking it with him. His feelings were real. Your feelings were always somewhere else.”

“I am sorry about that, that I lied to him. It didn’t feel like I was lying… I really wanted it to all be good, and I didn’t want it to stop. It wasn’t a fake relationship, though, Lydia. A lot of the moments we had were very real. This is so fast.”

“You know how things are here, how chaotic it is.” Izzy remembered where Lydia was: out in California. Maybe calling her from the apartment she was supposed to share with George.

“He needed a decision from me on whether or not I was going on with the tour to follow Jess or staying back with him. I had to decide fast, so Jess could find somebody else… Since you didn’t want to go on with Harry like I thought maybe you would.”

“It wasn’t cool of George to put you in that position, to try to start something up so quickly with you and have you quit your job like that.”

“I still have a job, Izzy - I’m still going to be helping him with his socials. Still working for Ryan.”

“Don’t even get me started on Ryan,” Izzy said.

“I don’t like him either.”

Izzy felt herself welling up all of a sudden. Her cousin wouldn’t budge, on anything. “I’m really worried about you,” Izzy said through tears. “I’m just really worried about you. You told me once at the beginning of the tour that all I had to be was honest, so that’s what I’m trying to do, even if I failed earlier with George. Here’s the truth: I should have left earlier. The tour… it’s so good, I know. That life is so beautiful and fun, but the drugs. Did you see what happened to Tara? And George is in so much trouble, and the drugs are causing the problem and are also the way that he runs from it. You just can’t do that stuff, Lydia. You don’t have to—you can still have so much fun out there without needing a bump.”

“You’re the one that ran,” Lydia said.

Izzy sighed.

“You’ve forgotten how good it is out here,” Lydia continued. “Come back. Come back to the beach. Harry will be here for more shows in January. Izzy, I know that you’re in love with him.” Izzy almost dropped the phone. “Don’t you see? Everything that is meant to happen is happening. Me and George, and you and Harry.”

Izzy put her hand up to her face. “It doesn’t feel like everything is working out,” Izzy said. “It feels like a fucking plane crash. I still don’t understand what happened. You’re not telling me everything.”

“I just want you to be happy, Izzy.”

“I just want you to be happy!”

“Come back out here,” Lydia repeated.

“Come home,” Izzy said.

“I love you. I’ll call again soon.”

“I love you too,” Izzy said. “Please be careful.”

Lydia hung up.

Izzy stared down at her phone, hoping and praying that she had dreamed the conversation somehow. That she would wake up. But no, it was real. George and Lydia.

Izzy sat down in the middle of her floor.

Tears started to fall down her cheeks. She felt volcanically angry at George and so, so worried about her cousin. The conversation ended so quickly, the opportunity to talk Lydia into doing something else just slipped away. Lydia hadn’t even sounded like herself: she normally asked questions and listened, instead of spewing advice. Izzy reprimanded herself for not listening better and asking more questions herself; maybe that would have helped Lydia see how insane and fast this was. The anger and anxiety climbed up Izzy’s body like fire, burning her scalp. Izzy put her face in her hands and sobbed. She wanted something to cut the feeling, to take the edge off—a bump, anything. But there was nothing to do but to cry. Who was she going to call to complain? Harry? Harry who hadn’t responded to any of her messages? She was crying about him, too. Her heart was broken. A bitter thought, one she thought she destroyed, resurfaced: Sometimes I think love is for other people.

The next morning, Izzy skipped her first class at the community college. Noon rolled around and she went downstairs, happy to help her mom catch a break by taking over the register at the store. Sitting behind the counter, looking out at the familiar street past the mannequins, Izzy felt her old life pulling her in like quicksand. She felt numb. It all seemed too hard, all of a sudden, like it had before she went on the tour: trying to get a real job, trying to move out. She felt wounded and just wanted to hide back where it was safe. The store was easier and she felt her daydreams calling her; she could just put in her headphones now and drift away. Her thoughts darted back to that first night at the concert, dancing with Meg and Lydia. George slinging his arm around her shoulders in the green room. Waking up on the plane. Lying with Harry in the grass at the co-op under the wisteria. Climbing up on that streetlight. She could sit here and remember it forever. She checked her phone again. Still no message from Harry. Not one.

There was another possibility, too: she could run. The keys to a house or a hut or a piece of land in Italy were sitting upstairs in her room, a total surprise—an unexpected gift from the past. And Mrs. Shepherd wanted her to go. That means I should go, right? Izzy wanted to run. The smoke from the crash wasn’t clearing, it was getting thicker. She couldn't see at all. She hadn’t seen clearly for months, just like Jess said. How had she missed George and Lydia and whatever feelings and vibes there were? She wanted out. She thought about Lydia’s offer, fleeing back to California. What would she even do there? Sleep on Lydia and George’s couch, hang out at the studio, maybe OD and end up at the hospital like Tara?

Izzy felt like she was melting into her chair behind the cash register where she had spent so much time. She was supposed to go to the plant nursery in the afternoon to sign her health insurance paperwork. This third option, between staying and running, now seemed impossible—the little plan she had made with Olivia seemed too hard: the new job, the new training and later, a new apartment.

Izzy twisted around to the three-pane mirror and surveyed her slumped over, fragmented reflection. She thought about Mrs. Shepherd and her own grandmother, Ila. Moving to America, building a life piece by piece. She thought about her mom, fighting to keep everything together. Surviving, despite losing her mom and sister.

The jingle of the shop door opening brought Izzy out of her fog. Olivia stood at the threshold, dressed for her new job at the music store. She eyed Izzy up and down and her eyes went soft.

“I felt there was something going on with George and Lydia,” she said. “Not while you were together, but there are vibes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your responsibility,” shrugged Izzy.

“Let’s go. You have your paperwork, and I have my first shift.”

“I’m feeling kind of tired,” Izzy said. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Let’s go,” Olivia said, more assertively than Izzy had ever heard her speak. Whatever twinge of anger Izzy felt at Olivia for holding information back faded away. Izzy stood up, switched the store sign to closed, and let Olivia march her to the nursery, where she felt like she could take deep breaths again. Izzy filled in her details, signed all the forms, and even had an impromptu training shift from the eccentric owner, Reedy, about the importance of spritzing the ferns hourly. The next day, she made it to her 8 AM class. The day after that, she did it again. Time seemed to speed up. One step followed another. After George posted the first photo of him and Lydia together, Izzy deleted Instagram from her phone. She worked and went to class. By the end of November, She had saved up almost $6,000 living at home and working. On Saturdays, she worked at the store, and to keep busy, on Sundays she added an extra shift at the nursery. The busyness dulled down the constant ringing in her head: is Lydia okay is Lydia okay is Lydia okay. The ringing had started soon after Izzy joined the tour, and grew deafening after that phone call. She and Lydia sent polite texts back and forth, so superficial that they broke Izzy’s heart. Olivia got an apartment, and when her roommate fell through in December, Izzy moved in. The apartment was above a dentist’s office near the community college: not glamorous at all. It definitely wasn’t the Riot Hyatt—but it was better, because it was all theirs. The rent was $1,200 per month, enough for them to split while still saving; they curtained off the living room to turn it into Izzy’s bedroom. They painted the walls blue and purple and had laughing fits while trying to pull off the painter’s tape off cleanly. Izzy put a record player in her room and had Meg and Lauren over to celebrate her new place, toasting with the cheapest red wine they could find in recycled jars over a table made of milk crates. Izzy loved working at the nursery and was learning more and more about all the species she had admired but couldn’t name before. She was doing well in her courses, but not letting her anxiety drive her into a perfectionist frenzy. For 2023, with Olivia’s encouragement, Izzy planned to sign up for landscape architecture courses. She daydreamed about the best parts of the tour, and tried not to ruminate on everything that went wrong. She remembered how Harry had embraced her even after he found out about her lack of experience—and Meg’s kind words, years ago: love is for you too, Izzy.

It was a good thing that Izzy got a steep discount on plants at the nursery, because she had so many in her room she had trouble getting to her book collection sometimes: two giant Caladium Moonlights arched around them, leaves resting on the shelves. Olivia hung up her guitars in the living room and Izzy played sometimes in the evening. Olivia sometimes Facetimed with Lisa, Jess, and Tara. Izzy always found an excuse to go out.

Olivia moved around the house in a light, easy way that Izzy admired; the musician was so relieved to be out from under Ryan’s thumb, out of the constant pressure of the live performances. Olivia played the guitar and worked on some new melodies some evenings. Izzy found herself smiling more often, her shoulders loosening up. She really admired Olivia, who was a lot more steely than she let on: she was strong. Olivia seemed like a fragile, floaty, spiritual person on the tour, but she was actually rock solid—otherwise, Izzy realized, she would have been totally crushed by the band. Copying Olivia’s example, Izzy painted a green and pink mural of abstract shapes on the wall opposite her bed, and had dragged in bookshelves they found on a curb in the snow and cleaned up. Just as she had done with her clothes in New York, she chose furniture that really felt like her; her new bedroom was colorful and warm, so different than the brown room she had escaped. The keys to the house in Italy collected dust on top of a small pile of books.

Izzy was doing what she had expected to do before the accident derailed her, but it was all so different than it might have been because of what she learned on the tour. One afternoon just before Christmas, Izzy sat in her new bed and looked out her windows, partially fogged up from all the humidity the plants created. She felt proud of herself. She hadn’t chosen to run or stay. Instead, she went with the third option: grow.

Still, sometimes Izzy felt a restlessness tugging on her sleeves, tickling her wrists and ankles. She knew what the feeling was. Lying in her bed alone at night, her mind always ran back to that voice, those eyes, those hands: Elisabetta. I know I’m not the only one. You’re so nice, and I hate that about you.

Suddenly, it was Christmas. She and Olivia would start new courses in the second week of January, so they had a bit of a break for the week between the 25th and New Years: Izzy only had a few shifts, and planned to spend a ton of time with Meg, who had finally earned some vacation time three months into her new gig.

On Christmas Day, the sky was grey but bright and Izzy went over to her parents’ first thing in the morning. She took the bus over to her parents’ apartment as a grown up for the first time—presents under her arm, side dish she made in her own oven carefully balanced in one hand. Her mom and dad had put up the tree, like every year, with lots of homemade decorations from the store’s most glittery fabric samples. Boxing Day Sale posters piled up in Izzy’s old room, which had become an office of sorts. And her mom seemed fine, happy—almost excited. Izzy felt grateful. Christmas at home was more beautiful than she remembered, because it no longer happened in a place she was trying to escape.

For the first time, Izzy didn’t notice presents under the Christmas with her name on them. After breakfast, her parents opened their gifts (a dark, soft bolt of silk Izzy had found at the thrift store, and a history of baseball book for her dad). Once the wrapping paper was cleared away, her mom slid a small piece of paper across the table to Izzy.

“Just for a week,” her mom said. “Do you think you and Meg would like to go? We have two tickets.”

Izzy unfolded the sheet of paper. On it, a flight itinerary to Sicily.“I can’t accept this, mom—it’s way too much.”

Her mom took Izzy’s hand and shook her head. She explained that she had been to Italy several times while her mother was still alive, and returning now was too painful for her.

“The store is doing well,” her dad said. “Don’t worry about us. This is what Ila would have wanted for you.”

Mrs. Shepherd’s words boomed in Izzy’s mind: Go! Dance! It wasn’t running if she was just going for a week, right?

…

Izzy knew she made the right choice when she saw the blue of the Mediterranean from the window of the plane. It was so pretty that it looked impossible, unreal. She had never been to Europe. Never been outside the country.

Two bus rides and one 2 mile walk later, Izzy, Meg, and Olivia came to a stop in a cloud of gold dust on a gravel road that wound along the sea. It was about 80 degrees, and the sun was bright and warm. Google Maps said they were at the house, but they only saw a heavy, sunken iron gate in the middle of a long, crumbling stone wall.

The land was scrubby and hard, tall brown grass and dark green groves of olives and figs and blood oranges. The air smelt like lemons and salt. Cactuses and palm trees stretched up behind the wall, dangling orange studded fruits over at them—Ficodindia di San Cono, prickly pear, as Izzy had learned from a local influencer she had been following. This area of Sicily was usually pretty quiet, but it had been getting more and more popular; a bougie seaside resort had opened near the next town and some celebrities had even parked their yachts off the coast in the summer.

“It’s giving Under the Tuscan Sun,” Meg said. Izzy reached out and grabbed one of the fruits, and the three of them split it, while staring at the gate. They had walked two miles to get to the address. Izzy had the keys in her hands. She was so glad that Olivia and Meg decided to join her: Meg took the free flights as a “sorry I cost you your job” gift from Izzy, and Olivia had saved up enough to come on her own. Staying at the hostel helped, and everything in Sicily had been dirt cheap so far.

Olivia dropped her thrifted backpack. Meg did the same.

The gate was obviously rusted shut.

“We should probably go back into town and get someone,” Izzy said. As she was saying it, Olivia hopped over one of the crumbling stone walls.

“Get who?” Meg asked. “A blacksmith?”

Izzy heard an “oh my god” from the other side of the wall.

“Remember the last time we broke in somewhere?” Meg asked with a smile.

“The first concert, Lydia shoving us through the backstage no access doors,” Izzy said.

They looked at the gate.

Izzy unclipped her backpack, dropped it with a THUD, and hopped over. Meg followed her.

The house was small; stone, with a slate roof, and three windows upstairs over a centered door. But Izzy honestly barely noticed it: she was looking at the garden. Meg put her hands on her shoulders and they gazed at it in awe.

The house sank into a rolling field of yellow flowers that grew over tangled, knotty roots of old olive trees before disappearing over an edge with the blue sea behind it: the house was on a cliff overlooking the water. Each window had a flower box stuffed with purple anemones and bougainvillea vines of pink flowers climbed up the left side and covered the chimney. Heavy aloe plants guarded the house on each corner and poppies grew out of the stone steps leading up to the door. A gardener lived here: not just a gardener, but some sort of plant genius. The house hadn’t been rented for at least ten years. It had been her great grandparents’, and her grandmother Ila had left it behind before she turned 20 for a new life.

Meg took the keys from Izzy’s hands and walked up to the house, Olivia following her, while Izzy walked around it to look at the ocean. A falling-down fence rooted in place by tall grasses held back the flowers from the cliff, which was a short drop down to a white sand beach. Steps worn by the seawater led up to a small opening in the fence; the gardener had planted cactuses on the outside of every step, like fence posts. The house was on a small cove a few miles from the nearest town, which Izzy could just barely see around the east corner. Izzy peered around the west corner of the cove; there was a sand path leading to a connected beach, revealing miles and miles of coast line dotted with pretty houses, some old and some new. Looking at the coastline, Izzy realized why her and Lydia’s mothers always took them to the beach. It’s because it was a place that their mothers’ loved. Izzy imagined Mrs. Shepherd and Ila as girls there at the house, hopping up and down the steps to go swimming.

Izzy carefully took off her shoes and socks and walked down the steps to the water, pausing on the last one. She couldn’t believe that nothing on Instagram had captured the ocean properly: the greens and blues were so much brighter in person. Her feet sank down and water pooled around them, pulling her in. Izzy hiked up her pants and walked into the water, soothing and cool. She laughed. She had so much. The restlessness and the ringing finally left her alone.

Izzy looked back up at the house, which had six windows on the back and a stone patio under olive trees, obviously designed for the view. Olivia waved from a window on the second floor.

“Everything that’s mean to happen is happening,” Olivia called down. Izzy had always wondered where Lydia learned that phrase.

“Izzy, it’s really pretty in here,” Meg said from a nearby window. “Black and white tile floor. Every window has a flower box.”

They ran some basic errands in the village using translator apps and Izzy’s broken Italian, getting the power hooked back up to the house ($1,400!), getting the water turned back on ($260!), getting a contractor to fix the gate and some of the broken stairs inside ($2,300!), and scheduling an inspection so it could be lived in again ($430!). That night, Izzy fell asleep on the bottom bunk in their hostel room as soon as her head hit the pillow. It was New Year’s Eve the next day and she felt like a new person.

Olivia and Meg had floated several ideas to end 2022: the hostel bar was having a party, in the little gap between houses where they had built a small library and put some tables and chairs. They could celebrate at the house, with candles. Or, there was a tarot card reader doing 2023 readings out of the shop next door (the language barrier was an issue). They weren’t permitted to go back up to the house while the inspection was being conducted, so over breakfast they traded ideas. There was a beautiful old mansion that someone had snapped just a few weeks ago; it had been in ruins, but it was being fixed up. It was famous for its huge music room / library, which looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast but better in the video—Italian, baroque marble insanity with peeling gold leaf and elaborate, curling wood carvings on the shelves and ceilings. They had four more days before they were going home, and they planned to see Noto (birth place of ice cream, Meg’s choice), Giardini de Balio (the most beautiful gardens in Sicily, Izzy’s choice), and Rockerilla (music venue famous across Europe, Olivia’s choice). Izzy hadn’t come up with a plan for the house yet. The upkeep costs were minimal and she didn’t know if she wanted to rent it out or what, but she knew fixing it up would help whatever she decided to do.

Olivia made an impassioned case for going to Rockerilla, apparently one of Jess’s favorite spots and well know among real artists—it was like an overseas, Italian hangout for international rock stars. They decided they would go on their last night, to celebrate before going home (best for last).

That day, they decided to go to the mansion with the library; it was a boring enough excursion before a big New Years night out. Izzy caked herself in sunscreen and they took a bus down the dusty road over a few hills to the west of the town, past the house by over an hour, on the other side of the island. Izzy was able to ask the driver to per favore, ferma and they hopped off in front of the mansion, alone on its own hill—it was expansive, and under construction. Metal construction fences encircled the property. It was quiet; no one was on site. Huge signs in Italian with clear do not enter icons glared down at them from the fences.

Before Izzy could ask what they should do, Olivia was through the fence and striding toward the door.

“This is private property!” Izzy said.

“No one is here,” Olivia called over her shoulder. “We are calm. We are relaxed.”

Meg followed Olivia.

“Meg!” Izzy cried, gesturing to the signs.

"I don’t speak Italian,” said Meg.

Izzy took a breath and stomped after them. She had already broke and entered earlier that day, into her own home. Why not go two for two?

The villa was massive; a single story in stone with colums supporting pointed archways. It was a pretty mishmash of styles, added too over the centuries. The windows were huge, and you could see the ocean peeking through from the other side. Olivia picked up the heavy metal knocker and let it slam against the door; they could hear the loud clang echo through the house.

There was no response to the loud knock. No one was home. Izzy turned around to leave, and Olivia turned the heavy door knob until it clicked. The door opened. They were in. Meg walked in first. Izzy shot Olivia a skeptical look.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Olivia asked. “Could you have imagined this last summer?” Izzy shook her head, no. If she hadn’t gone on the tour, she absolutely wouldn’t be here now. She’d be in the store, behind the cash register, slowly dying inside. Izzy followed Meg inside. They were in a wide hallway in front of a small inner sanctum surrounded by columns and overgrown with ferns and shrubs. There was a ladder at one end of the hallway, and scaffolding up to the ceiling. Olivia had her phone out.

“It says it’s in the west wing, so… down there.”

“What if there’s someone here?” Izzy asked. But her concern was half hearted: the house was so beautiful, she didn’t really mind that they were breaking and entering. She was reminded a bit of the first time Lydia had shoved her and Meg through that backstage door.

They walked past a massive room, with huge wooden beams and a beautiful marble tiled floor, that was being painted. It was empty, except for a huge piano that looked new, pointed out toward the ocean. Everything else was covered in dust except the keys. None of the lights in the house were on. It was even brighter and hotter that day, but the house was cool and shadowed. Izzy took off her sunglasses and put them in her fanny pack.

“I think it’s through here,” called Olivia. She and Meg disappeared around a corner. Izzy had fallen behind them, transfixed by the piano.

She walked across the courtyard, into the library—she had found it. She could hear Olivia and Meg down the hall. Light streamed in from towering windows looking out over the ocean and the walls were lined with books, some too shiny to be that old. The ceiling had a blue and gold painting of a constellation, with ivy winding up toward it from a crack behind a huge, open stone fireplace. Izzy ran her hand along one of the tables, walking and taking in the ceiling painting. Her fingers hit on something and she stopped: she almost wiped a tea cup, saucer, and open book off the table. The tea cup was full with hot water, still steaming. Someone was home.

She heard a sharp intake of breath from outside. “Izzy?” She spun around. She could only see a silhouette against the ocean. Izzy briefly contemplated turning and running. She could run all the way back to town using anxiety alone as her fuel; that’s how much her anxiety had spiked, just hearing that voice. Her heart hammered in her ears. She walked toward the voice slowly, already knowing who it was, and seeing no other way out of the situation, though she kept trying to think of them.

When Izzy finally made it outside to the patio, the sun nearly blinded her. She blinked hard and her sunscreen ran into her eyes, so she had to drag up her shirt to dab them. It was so bright compared to the interior. The figure came into focus slowly.

“Harry,” she said, blinking the sting out of her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he replied. He wore a t-shirt over trousers with flip flops, and sunglasses that he had taken off to double check that it was really her, thousands of miles from home, standing on his patio.

“We were—we were in Italy for my family. Well, my family’s not here. Olivia made me come here. I didn’t know that anyone was home. I’m so sorry.” Izzy’s eyes burned. Strugs.

“Your family is here?” Harry asked. His voice was open and kind, shockingly open and kind, Izzy thought, given that she had broken into his house. Is this his house? He extended a tissue toward her and she took it, hand shaking, dabbing her eyes so she could finally see straight. He came into brutal focus then: two curls coming down over his forehead, gold flecks in the green twinkling at her in the sun, and a smile on his lips almost too slight for Izzy to notice.

“My grandmother is from here,” Izzy stammered. “I inherited her house. I was here to look at the house, and Olivia said she wanted to come here to look at the library—it was listed as a tourist destination in this video. I wanted to see the gardens; I’m sort of obsessed with plants.”

“I know.”

“I had no idea… we thought it was abandoned.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I bought it a few months ago.”

“I thought you were back in California,” Izzy said, blushing deeply.

“I needed to clear my head.” Harry couldn’t look away from her.

They stood in awkward silence. Izzy couldn’t think of any social conventions to fall back on for when you break into the home of someone you once slept with, who said he was crazy in love with you and then ditched you after you said some terrible things to him. Nothing came to mind. She wanted to laugh—the whole situation was just so ridiculous.

“Where’re you staying?” Harry asked, trying to help.

“We’re at the Ostello Estremamente Economico, about two hours away. We took the bus.” Hearing her speak Italian made Harry smile. He couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing for tonight, Izzy?”

chapter 17 -->

#harry styles au #love on tour au #harry styles #love on tour #harry styles fic #love on tour fic #hslot #angst!harry #romance #fluff #italy for some reason #under the tuscan sun vibes #personal growth #anxiety feels #anxiety disorder #2023 goals #romance readers #grumpyrry

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void-imp · 2 years

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I have three questions!

1. Are Jab and Jeremy's hair natural those colors or do they dye them? (And if they do, do they dye each others hair?)

2. What are a few of your favorite facts about your ocs?

3. Why are you so awesome and nice and so good at things and stuff?!! Why are you such a nice friend????????? ily <3

hi izz!! tysm for these!

1. Jab's hair color is his natural hair color, actually! His body hair is the same but he dyes his eyebrows black. It’s another thing he’s incredibly self-conscious about and he shaves off the majority of it.

Jeremy's hair is naturally black, he's dyed it different colors throughout his teenage years and up until now. It’s... probably a bit fried at this point. 💀 He dyes it and shaves his sides himself!

2. Aleksey is known to be booksmart. After acing his SATs, everyone expected him to go to college but to their surprise he refused to. No one could change his mind, no matter what they said or how hard they tried.

Jeremy was the drummer in a band with three of his friends in high school. It started out great, they gave it their all, sharing a dream of one day making it big, and Jeremy showed a natural affinity for drumming.

After an instance where their teacher called him “the engine of the band” he felt increasingly pressured to do well. If he was off, the whole band would be. Terrified of messing up, he flaked out on his friends and didn’t show up to the concert they had been practicing for for months. The band dissolved after that.

Everyone knows Jab has his phone glued to his hand at all times. He’s always snapping pictures, of himself, his friends, the sky, that bird over there, posting them on social media. What people don’t know is there's a deeper reason for this.

He’s afraid of forgetting and he’s afraid of loss, so he takes pictures to remember. Even if everyone left him, he’d still have them, documents of his precious memories.

3. abmdnbgm NO U!! Aww dude, tysm, you’re the best 💗😭 I hope you’re doing amazing today!!

#ask #<3 #oc:jab #oc:aleksey #oc:jeremy #about my ocs #i rlly need to tag things more consistently...

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issie-https · 1 year

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Smut:8 and smut:14 with izzy please?🙏🙏

Summer days

Izzy Stradlin X Reader

A/n: First request! I’ve also got another one on the way which I’m excited for! As always, my requests are open so feel free to request anything🩷 With the song, it’s just what I was listening to while writing this but I feel like it works well with it🤷‍♀️

Word count: 900

Warnings: Smut, sloppy summer sex

Masterlist

༺✩༻

"Hi, guys!" I smiled as I welcomed Axl, Duff, Steven and Slash into mine and Izzy's new house. "This is nice, Y/n," Steven said. "Aww, thanks Stevie," I smiled, ushering them into the living room. "Where's Izzy?" Axl asked at the absence of his best friend. "He's changing into his swimming trunks, he'll be down so-," I got cut off by Izzy yelling, "IM HERE!" As he came down the stairs. I just rolled my eyes at my boyfriend acting like a child with his boyfriends. "I'm going to change into my bikini. I'll be right back," I whispered into Izzy's ear. He simply nodded and turned back to his conversation. "Oh, and help yourself to drinks, Izzy will show you where they are," I smiled.

I was changing into my bikini when all of a sudden, music started blasting through the house. Why have children when you can have Guns N Roses.

"I'm back! Izzy, what is in that cup?" I said, looking at the weird concoction in Izzy's cup. "I don't know, Axl made it," he replied, making eye contact with me. "Please don't murder everyone," I laughed, mixing myself a drink.

After a few minutes, Izzy and Axl decided to start the barbecue. Now, I'm nervous for this because a few things could happen. One, it could go just fine. Two, they could set something on fire. Three, they could just start arguing with each other. But for now, I will give them the benefit of a doubt.

"AXL!" I heard Izzy yell from the grill. "One sec," I smiled and rushed over to them. "What are you screaming at Axl for?" I whispered-yelled at Izzy. "The idiot isn't listening," he whined. "What do you want him to do?" I asked calmly, trying to diffuse the tension Izzy was making. "I asked him to go get the stuff from the fridge," he whined again. "Why don't you do it?" I suggested. "Because," he shrugged. "Jeffery Dean Isbell, go get it yourself," I said. "Axl, do you need anything?" I smiled. "Just a beer, please," he smiled back, handing me his empty bottle.

Once the food was finally cooked and laid out on the table, we all sat down and ate, talking about any and every topic on our minds. But for some reason, Izzy stayed fairly quiet.

"That was amazing, you two," I smiled at Izz and Axl who were now on their 8th or 9th beer. "Izz, can you help me bring the plates into the kitchen please?" I asked to which he just nodded, picking up a stack of plates.

"What's wrong?" I asked when we reached the kitchen. "It's nothing," he grumbled, turning his back to me. "Izzy," I scolded as he knew I hated when he ignored me. "Y/n, just leave it. I'll tell you when the others have left," he spat, making me shove the plates in the sink and storm out to the garden. "Y/n," he grumbled.

I spent the rest of the time in the pool with Steven and Duff, just chilling and talking about random shit until they all decided to go home, leaving me alone in the pool and Izzy alone on the sun lounger. "Y/n?" He said. "Not in the mood to talk," I blurted, tuning away from him. "Y/n please," he begged. "What? What is so important now?" I replied, turning to look at him. "Come here," he whined. "Why?" I asked. "Just come here," he grumbled. I got out of the pool, walked over to him and he pulled me onto his lap. "Oh," I said as I felt his boner underneath me. "Get it now?" He whispered in my ear, rubbing his hands up and down my thighs, getting closer to my heat each time.

I didn't reply, I just got off his lap and pulled him through the house and into our bedroom. "I'm sorry, baby," I cooed as I kissed him. "I forgive you, princess," he said as he kissed me back. We joined in a sloppy but romantic kiss as we got closer to the bed. The heat in general was high but with Izzy kissing me this way, we were both lightly sweating already. "I love you.. so... much," he said in between kisses. "Love you.. so much... mm too," I moaned as he pulled away to remove my bikini top and help me step out of my bikini bottoms.

He slid off his swimming trunks and his hard cock slapped against his stomach, leaking with pre cum. I lay back on the bed as he positioned himself between my legs. He thrust himself into me, making me moan loudly. "You're so pretty," he praised, kissing my lips again. His thrusts were sloppy but deep, hitting my g-spot every time he thrust. "Fuck, Izz," I moaned, scratching his back with my nails. "You feel so good," he rasped, reaching between our bodies to rub my clit, making me gasp at the added stimulation. "Izz, I'm c-close," I moaned. "I know, princess," he groaned, continuing the circles on my clit. "Cum for me," he moaned. I came on his cock, feeling him pulse inside me as he came, filling me up with his cum. "You're so good for me," he praised, making me blush. "I love you," I smiled. "I love you too,".

#guns n roses #izzy gnr #izzy stradlin imagine #slash gnr #axl gnr #duff gnr #gnr #steven gnr #axl rose imagine #duff mckagan imagine

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eliaswoodt · 9 months

Text

Special It Called Her

(Special It Called Her)

No warnings! (I’m pretty sure not)

Kaitlyn didn’t know when she realized she was special.

At least not the exact moment she actively thought I’m special.

She does remember the first odd thing to happen to her. (Or, at least the first odd thing she knows about happening to her. But she doesn’t often like to entertain the idea of things happening to or around her without knowing it. Being unaware…the idea…it makes her skin prickle, and crawl and her heart thrum, squirm with the feeling of being watched).

Kaitlyn was young, plain brown hair and plain brown eyes, 15 or so (so young and yet already seen as an adult in training, instead of a kid just aching to be noticed), and she didn’t have many friends.

Kaitlyn was waiting with her friends just outside of the tall blue school doors (two girls who pitied her enough to let her leech on their conversations, getting her social-sustenance through barely-willing veins), waiting to get picked up and taken home.

It was spring, birds cawing once more, the leafs new and shiny on sturdy brown branches and the sun hiding less and less as the days went on, painting the concrete the three girls stood on in faint light. Still too cold to not be bundled up in coats and jackets.

Kaitlyn was standing a good couple inches from her two friends, a noticeable distance (just like their minds and hers—so distant and unlike each other in every important way), and she was trying to find an opening in the racing conversation before her (she had always been bad at races, running never her forte. Always falling short and getting benched by peers, friends, and family alike).

And just before she could get a word out (the conversation was quickly turning from animals to boy bands and Kait didn’t know a thing about boy bands—or music, really—so she desperately wanted to share a fun fact about snakes), a raspy voice whispered Carrier, Carrier, right in her ear.

Kaitlyn jumped, heart going frantic. “Huh?” She glanced around, eyeing the students out and about, talking, laughing, crowding together (probably wanting to have a smoke), waiting for rides or getting into cars of various kinds and shades of white, black, red, or blue.

She pulled her searching gaze from the trees that circled and enclosed around the high school, back to her friends, and the two girls were apparently staring at her. “Uh…”

“What?” Jess said, blonde brow raised, frowning.

Isabella’s—or as the teen preferred—Izzy’s honey colored eyes bore into Kaitlyn’s, blandly staring at her. Or maybe judging her? Kait couldn't ever tell. Reading expressions…well, it never was something she prided herself on. (The boys always looked at her strangely whenever she tried to speak about rare animals with them, and the girls' faces contorted weirdly when she said she didn’t understand the whole playing-with-dolls-stuff, in elementary. Not much has changed, since then really).

Kaitlyn quickly avoided their nerve-racking eyes. “Uhm…I just…uh…n-never mind,” Kaitlyn eventually mumbled, and tried to shake off the horrible feeling of being watched.

“Really?” Jess crossed her arms. Jessica Brook, blonde and blue eyed, was always a nosy person, and Kaitlyn thinks it’s because her parents always use information against each other (but Kait would never tell her that. People didn’t like it when she told them things like that, especially when it was about themselves).

While Jess loudly proclaimed who she was, Izzy, dark curls and darker eyes, was a private, to-herself-person. Quiet like Kait, but by choice, unlike Kait. Izzy still liked gossip, though.

“It seemed like something, didn’t it, Jess?”

“Yeah, it did, Izz.”

Carrier, carrier, the voice from earlier rasped, sounding as if it was coming from all directions. Her paranoia, she could feel, was creeping along her spine, and Kaitlyn was almost glad for the cold since it gave her an excuse to shiver.

Kaitlyn’s head buzzed when the thing spoke. But she still didn’t know where it was coming from.

“Do, uh…” Kaitlyn didn’t want to be called crazy, but she decided she needed to know. “Did you guys hear that? The voice?”

A small laugh escaped Izzy. Izzy was meaner than Jess, Kaitlyn felt.

“A voice?” Jess questioned.

Kaitlyn nodded.

Another sharp, little laugh slipped past Izzy’s mouth while she rolled her eyes.

Jess snapped out of the shock Kait’s words seemingly put her in. “What, you’re crazy now? Hearing voices inside your head?” Jess said, nose scrunched and lip pinched up.

Kaitlyn wanted to flap her hands, feeling uncertain and distinctly uncomfortable with all the eyes and odd looks, but instead wrapped her arms around her middle. She went to respond, but Jessica beat her to it.

“Ew, get away from me!” Jess laughed cruelly, loudly, while Izzy kept her snickering mostly to herself. “I don’t want your craziness,” she pulled Izzy away from Kaitlyn, closer to the parking lot, and didn’t look back.

Leaving Kaitlyn to herself.

Kaitlyn let them go, without saying anything at all.

But God, did she want to. She wanted to plead, beg even, for them to stay. Everything inside her body was screaming and begging to not be left alone.

Carrier, come here, the voice buzzed and itched Kaitlyn’s brain. She could feel a headache building.

Kait whipped her head around, making the headache pound harder. And her eyes landed on a…a white blob, hiding behind some bushes, in the treeline. But it wasn’t a normal blob, in the bushes, it almost…

Kaitlyn took three steps closer, against her better judgment.

…it almost looked like a head.

A bald head, bright white like the unnatural white of manufactured paint.

Her head pounded a little harder.

Her heart positively screamed at her to run.

Carrier, Carrier, it said.

The head inched upward, revealing more and more blinding-white skin.

Come here, it whispered and it sounded like it was directly speaking into her ears, and like the voice was echoing all around her. But that would be impossible, seeing as it was only a few feet away from her.

The head continued its upward movement, and revealed black, hollow sockets. The skin around said sockets blackened, like the way wood charred.

Promises, I can give you promises, despite the horror squeezing Kaitlyn’s heart, the voice compelled her to take a step toward it.

Blunt teeth, Kaitlyn realized. Kait didn’t know what to expect, but the creature revealed it had blunt, pearly-white teeth while everything else in its mouth was black and slimy looking.

It oddly didn’t have a nose.

Come here, it tried to corral. But Kaitlyn snapped out of the horrified trance when her Mom called for her, and she ran.

And ran to her Mom, where she sat in the car for who knows how long, waiting for Kaitlyn to open one of the blue car doors and sit.

And Kaitlyn watched.

Watched the trees for the white creature, as her ears rang and heart pounded.

But…almost far more horrifying…she didn’t see it again.

Not when she was in the front seat of the car, studiously scanning the blooming spring trees.

Not outside the window that overlooked the backyard in the kitchen, when she was helping her Mom do the dishes.

And not even outside her bedroom window, when she was sleepless and terrified in her bed as the night trudged along.

Kaitlyn wouldn’t see it for a long, long time.

#my posts #my fiction #my whispered faith posts #fanfiction #angst #whispered faith #whisperedfaith #whisperedfaith kaitlyn #kaitlyn whisperedfaith #kaitlyn wf #wf kaitlyn #whisperedfaith fanfic #arg #the rake

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