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royalvelvette · 8 months ago

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and love will bring us freedom

Read on Ao3 (or reread part 1 on tumblr)

Rating: M

Characters: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Mammon, Fizzarolli, Niffty, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Husk, Cherri Bomb Mentioned: Glitz, Glam, Loona, Vortex, Lucifer Morningstar, Sir Pentious

Warnings: Canon Typical Language, Minor Violence (not on purpose), Mammon's Canon Treatment of Fizzarolli, Not Beta Read or Edited

Word Count: 2222

The robo-fizz advertisements passed in something of a blur. Charlie distracted herself by explaining more about the pageant itself – anything to not pay attention to the way Mammon was currently talking about how you could fuck the Fizzbots. Vaggie’s hand was a familiar weight on her knee, keeping her from growling at the tv or accidentally hitting Cherri with a too-emphatic gesture.

“-so they show off some clown skills first – stuff like juggling and balloon animals, y’know? And then there’ll be an intermission for us when the in person meet and greet is happening, then there’s some more... general performing. Singing, dancing, acting – really anything-”

Vaggie squeezed her thigh, and Charlie took a breath. “It’s cool,” she finishes lamely. “Fizz always does a big musical number, you’ll love it.”

Angel tilted his head up to look at her. “You sure you ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause you like singin’ and dancin’?”

“Watch it,” Vaggie snapped.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said. “I mean, Fizz has won the last ten years running, so it isn’t just me, but you’re probably... not wrong that I’m biased.”

Alastor half-tuned out the conversation happening beside him. He was watching the picture show intently – more specifically, he was watching the Mammon and Fizzarolli now on screen. The distasteful advertisements were almost at an end, for certain, as these two iterations seemed more recent.

“There’s a Fizzy for every occasion!” Mammon shouted, gesturing widely. “All thanks to my old brand, Fizzy!”

Fizzarolli was dragged against Mammon’s side. He covered his discomfort remarkably well, but the subtle wince – something Alastor was intimately familiar with, whenever somebody touched him – belied his true feelings. His antlers were beginning to hurt.

“That’s me, folks!” Fizzarolli said, better at keeping the discomfort from his voice than his body. “And the Fizzies’ll keep coming, unless you think you can beat me-

“At Mammon’s Annual Clown Pageant!” Mammon cut in at the same time as Fizzarolli.

Alastor lifted his lip. Perhaps now, it wasn’t quite so shocking for Charlie to be unable to hide her dislike of Mammon. Alastor had no idea who Fizzarolli was, until this day, and yet... something about Mammon’s treatment of the jester set every nerve on edge. The manhandling, especially.

Niffty began to wiggle on her perch beside his head when the prices finally faded from the screen, overtaken what was presumably a live broadcast directly from the Greed ring. Mammon, of course, was front and centre. How... distasteful.

Niffty knew she was going to be in trouble later, swinging her legs and rocking so close to Alastor – it was just so hard to sit still when there was such a delectable bad boy right in front of her! An actual bad boy, too, one even Miss Charlie didn’t like! One who wasn’t secretly lame, like the snake guy or Lucifer, either!

(Lucifer being so... like that had been the only unpleasant discovery ever since he moved in. He was the king of hell! He should have been the ultimate bad boy! Instead, he was even lamer than Pentious had been. Almost as pathetic as that stupid TV head guy who used to follow Alastor around like a puppy, urgh, saved only by the fact he was leagues more powerful.)

Though... Mammon did violate one of the rules Alastor had given her, when he first brought her to the hotel. Upsetting Charlie was a no-no, no matter how many funny colours she turned or how spiky Vaggie got. It was really the only new rule she had gotten, so it had to be extra important. Did that mean Mammon was off limits?

Niffty pouted, legs stilling. Of course, the only real bad boy in the entire place, and he was somewhere Niffty couldn’t even go and not someone Alastor would approve of. Ugh.

One thing Mammon had always been good at, for as long as Charlie had known him, was showmanship. He’d used it to great effect when she was young, enchanting her with simple magic tricks and silly songs and dances, announcing everything with so much aplomb that Charlie had been practically begging to eat all the vegetables on her plate at family dinners.

That very same showmanship was on full display as Mammon introduced the contestants for this years pageant. The first four, even with Mammon hyping them up (he always did this, always, like any of them actually had a shot against Fizz – none of them did and he knew it, because he was the one who trained Fizz) passed her by quickly – though she did hear Cherri snort when Pierrot was introduced.

It was the duo, introduced just before Fizzarolli, that made Charlie nervous. There was a sort of... easy confidence to them, and they definitely had the whole ‘please step on me’ vibe down – that would definitely get them past the first few rounds with pretty high scores, and that’s if they didn’t perform well. If they were any good at clowning – or even just performing in general – there was a pretty high chance they’d make it to the finale with Fizz.

(Part of Charlie hoped that they did – the further they got in the competition, the longer Charlie could oogle – possessors were just always so pretty – but part of Charlie hoped they didn’t, with the way Fizz was constantly looking at them out of the corner of his eye.)

Angel winced when Charlie’s cousin fumbled the juggling act. As a performer himself, there was nothing worse than fucking up on the very first take. Even though he was the only one to mess up the first trick, he still shot up to second place – just behind the pair of sisters up on the wire, while the imp in full clown getup was given the boot. Brand recognition did a lot, something else Angel was intimately familiar with.

(He couldn’t help but wonder if Fizzarolli dealt with the same sorts of creepy-ass fans, despite being in a different sort of gig. He did work at some sort of sex club for the sin of lust, so... probably.

Was it weird, to relate to someone he didn’t even know existed until today? It was probably weird.)

Fizzarolli recovered nicely in the second act, at least. And his balloon figure – Mammon, presumably – was impressive. Angel could twist himself into all sorts of fun shapes, but balloons? Fuck no. That shit would pop on him so fast. Sucks that it didn’t give Fizzarolli the lead, especially because the sisters just added to his instead of making their own fucking thing, though at least it was tied up.

Charlie frowned as the curtains opened for the final performances. It hadn’t been Fizz first, like she was expecting, like it had been for the last ten years – instead Glitz and Glam took the stage. It made Charlie... nervous. Mammon always did Fizz’s act first, always showed off his biggest asset when he did anything – something was wrong.

She let go off Vaggie’s hand to get her phone out of her pocket, shooting off a quick text to Uncle Oz. She would text Fizz himself, but if he was prepping for his show – she wouldn’t distract him. Not when something was already wrong. She tried to settle herself, taking Vaggie’s hand back and watching the sisters perform.

They were good. Like, good enough to be actual competition. The song was catchy, and they definitely knew how to work their attractiveness to their advantage. She gripped Vaggie’s hand tighter. Fizz wouldn’t lost – couldn’t lose, this was his thing – but actually fighting for the win... shit, he was probably having a panic attack. All Charlie could do, though, separated by several rings as they were, was hope that Oz was with him, somehow.

Then something exploded into blue smoke behind Mammon – who had been stammering as Fizz failed to appear – and Charlie settled. Ozzie was there. Fizz would be okay.

Charlie’s nails – not quite her claws, not yet – were painfully sharp where they dug into Vaggie’s thigh. She was leaning forward, eyes fixed on the television – the same position she had been in ever since Fizz had come onto the stage. Admittedly, Vaggie was more concerned with keeping Charlie from leaning forward enough to faceplant off the couch than paying attention to what, exactly, Fizz was singing about as he bounced and swung around, but even she noticed the finale.

“-Mammon you sad sack of shit, fuck youuu-ouuu-ouuu, you bitch! Yeah!”

Vaggie jumped as Angel started clapping with all three sets of arms. Cherri whooped loudly, and even Husk was smiling – wider than she had ever seen. It almost distracted her from the pain as Charlie’s claws sliced her skin when Charlie leapt to her feet.

It did not, however, distract from the way Charlie’s tail was whipping nervously behind her as she watched the screen.

“Babe,” Vaggie started.

“Mammon’s not going to take that well,” Charlie said.

“What’s he gonna do?” Cherri asked, cackling. “The crowd loved it!”

Charlie’s stomach twisted the longer Fizz talked. She knew what was coming even before Fizz finished his farewell speech – and she knew, more than anything, that Mammon would flip. At least he would have replacement talent ready to go, with Glitz and Glam – and the sisters were good! But Fizz had been his brand for ten, nearly eleven years. There was no universe Mammon would take him quitting well.

(Pride burned hot in her chest despite her unease. Fizz was finally quitting. Mammon’s prime moneymaker was leaving. Good, something in her purred. Let his cruelty burn his empire to ash.)

And then, the grand finale – not the one Mammon had been hoping for – came. Fizzarolli looked up, directly at Mammon (yes, that same voice hissed, yes) and said,

“I quit!”

“Yes!” she whisper-shouted, punching the air, even as she kept her eyes fixed on the screen, even as every nerve-ending in her body practically sang with be careful Fizz.

It only got louder as Mammon jabbed his staff at Fizz. Her horns were out and she was growling at the TV – someone was saying something behind her, but she was too furious-anxious-furious to pay attention to the words. Fizz’s words were tinny and faint through Mammon’s microphone, but there was no mistaking the second ‘I quit’ or what came after.

Then the mic exploded and green smoke filled the arena.

Vaggie was moving even before Charlie screamed. Her wings were flared, protecting Cherri, Husk, and Angel from the blast of heat that shot out from her girlfriend – Alastor had managed to bring up one of his shadows to cover him and Niffty.

“Jesus Christ!” Husk shouted. “Why is she hulking out?!”

Vaggie didn’t answer, couldn’t answer – the air itself was pressing down on her, forcing her down-down-down to her knees as Charlie grew, snarling and growling at the television.

“Babe-” she gasped. “Charlie-”

Charlie whipped around to face her, nearly taking her head off with her tail. Her eyes were bright and gleaming red, redder than Vaggie had ever seen, but clear. She looked at Vaggie silently for one beat-two-

Then Charlie started to shrink back down. Her horns remained, as did her tail, but she returned to a more normal size and the pressure she had been emanating receded, allowing Vaggie’s lungs to expand fully. She coughed once, weakly.

Charlie rushed to her side immediately. “Ohmysatan, I’m so fucking sorry-” she babbled, holding Vaggie’s face in her hands. “Are you okay?! I didn’t hurt you, did I? Is everyone okay?”

Vaggie’s answer was cut off by Asmodeus appearing on screen.

The shame was going to eat her alive, Charlie knew, but her self-recrimination was derailed when she heard her uncle shout,

“What? That I love him? Well, I do!”

The rest of the confrontation passed in a blur after those words. Her horns and tail receded slowly – Ozzie would protect Fizz. Ozzie could handle Mammon. Fizz was safe, he was loved, he was free. She let go of Vaggie’s face to wrap her arms around her shoulders instead, burying her face in her girlfriend’s neck as all of her nervous energy and anger drained away. It was over.

Fizz was free.

She stayed like that, holding Vaggie, trying not to cry, until her phone rang. She was pretty sure someone had been trying to get her attention before then – or at least, the others had been moving around them, dispersing (thank fuck, she hadn’t hurt them, she hadn’t wrecked everything) but it was only the ringtone she had set for Bee that snapped her out of it.

Charlie let go of Vaggie, answering on autopilot. “Hello?”

Bee squealed. “Charlie!!! Babe, did you see- did you see?” she shouted, flying around her chandelier.

“I saw!” Charlie said, strained.

“We need to celebrate!” Bee said. “You should come down-”

Charlie laughed. “I can’t, I can’t, remember? I got the hotel now-”

“Then I’ll come up! Ooh, ooh! I’ll bring Tex and Loona – you’ll love her, she’s great! - and you should ring Oz- I can meet your friends! Oooh, this is going to be great!”

Charlie laughed again, the earlier strain gone from her voice as she responded, “Give me like, an hour tops to get things ready, okay?”

“Okay!! See you then!!”

Bee hung up, immediately dialing Loona. “Hey, hey, you remember me talking about Charlie...”

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coffeebanana · 1 month ago

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Could we be blessed with some director’s commentary for mtl 🥺⭐️?

jkjfsfkdjb i feel like. a lot of things i'd want to give the most commentary on is actually stuff from later chapters that haven't been written/posted yet... BUT OKAY. gonna focus on the opening paragraphs

The walls of Adrien’s shower were lined with vintage pink tiles, but rose-tinted vision only went so far. Even if he stared long enough for the lines of caulking to disappear, for the world to become a blush-coloured blur, he couldn’t rid his sight of the long, jagged crack that ran down the middle. A slash of darkness that always remained. Those tiles were one of the reasons he’d chosen this apartment, or so he liked to tell himself. It wasn’t that he’d only made it halfway down the first page of rental listings, but instead that he’d felt a kinship with these walls—with that which had once been a pretty, polished thing, now so obviously broken. And on touring the place, he’d liked how the edge felt rough beneath the pads of his fingers. How it made him, just for a moment, feel real.

(my thoughts under the cut)

adrien could, one would think, afford a nicer apartment than the one i'm envisioning for him in this fic. i mean i haven't described it all that much yet but... even from this bit i think you can tell it's not like a modern place. and my in universe explanation for that is two-prong. 1) he probably actually doesn't have as much money as he WOULD have had because the whole gabriel being publically outed as a villain came with some financial consequences, and, 2) i think adrien would want to choose for his first apartment a place with more... character than the crisp, cold mansion

so. his apartment is somewhat inspired by one of my friend's old apartments--just because that's the sort of area in Montreal (the Plateau) where I imagined his apartment. it's a little ways from downtown, and the streets are lined with big trees. the insides of the apartments are sort of... very long a lot of the time

BUT his bathroom in particular is inspired by the bathroom in my last apartment, except my tiles were yellow (i would post a picture of those too but all my bathroom pics are selfies and i feel weird about posting those on tumblr 😂). i was really NOT a fan of that colour honestly, so i didn't want to write that into this fic. so i had googled pink vintage tiles very early in the writing process for this fic because i wanted a clear image. and i can't remember exactly how the crack part came to be--if i specifically searched pictures of cracks or if i saw the picture and needed to work that in--but i do know that... for years i've sort of had this thing about imperfections in older homes. how they can be oddly beautiful. oddly mesmerizing. how they tell a story

and the way i love starting chapters is to take some aspect of the setting and connect it to the character's emotions. it's my favourite favourite way to write description. so this lent really well to that...

Thanks for the ask!! 🩷🩷🩷

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut ask game

#ask response #jattendschaton #miraculous ladybug #mtl fic

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moondwellerthatdwells · 6 months ago

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Rough sketch of the full fish varian from this mermay post I love him so much I've always wanted to talk about my big fishes

Info dump under cut and scary mermaids warning(I made them with my own logic)

So theyre called Merlings and they were created because i find the concept of mermaids very interesting so i thought hey what if they make sense somewhat???

boom

(Text blurred out because funky notes in another language)

This is a teen and smaller species of merling about 6 feet but the anatomy is still similar!!! Just made varian merling(who is a blue tang) less terrifying to actually make it look like varian. They got BIG hands to catch prey and way more fins to stay alive in the ocean. Skin is like your typical sharks. Friendly mostly (except for the dolphins)

Another pic

These are guppies, like the smallest merling species ever recorded, the biggest being the sharks. As you can see they all can open their mouths 2 times wider and have 2 sets of gills.

They all speak in bluish, which is a language i made up and can be learned but even im still not fluent in speaking it but just to show you what its like written then the sentence in the first picture in bluish is "wone dèr m'DAV'TOL Liqhu!". Wone means "I", Dèr means "Love" and m'Dav'Tol means "my big", Liqhu is "fish/those who lives in the water"

Hello thank you tumblr user if you read through the whole thing, it is now 3am where im at and i need to sleep. Have a nice day and nice dream maybe!!!!!

#mom the dweller is howling again #info dump #mermaid #tts #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled the series #varian #tts varian

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vera-dauriac · 1 year ago

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8, 10, 19!

8. what is the first book you remember reading yourself?

I was actually talking to my hubby about this recently, and we both were taught to read young and always had books around, so that moment we went from having someone read to us to reading on our own is a complete blur. I remember spending a lot of time skimming my bright yellow two volume encyclopedia and the classic story picture books we had. I specifically remember flipping through The Emperor’s New Clothes, so if you need a specific title, let’s go with that one.

10. do you have a guilty fav?

I feel no guilt. I mean, I love some books others might call trashy romances or old-fashioned fantasy, but there’s no guilt to my love and I won’t demean any of them here, because they are, in point of fact, genuinely awesome.

19. most disliked popular books?

Ugh. I can’t with so much of what’s on the bestsellers list, and the handful of times I’ve read something big on BookTok out of professional curiosity, I've been appalled. (Shout out, though, to Song of Achilles, which I read and loved before BookTok figured it out. I guess even those folks get it right on occasion.) As far as those books that are big on tumblr, I just cannot understand what everyone around here sees in Dracula. Like, folks, it’s perfectly mediocre. Let it go.

Thanks so much for asking! Folks should feel free to ask me more from this list.

#ask me stuff #books #reading

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lowkeyremi · 8 months ago

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01. what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

Family/friends, SA (took awhile but it made me a stronger person), music!!

02. show us a picture of your handwriting?

ya... sometimes I can't even read it

03. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Lilo and Stitch, Ratatouille, and Haikyuu of course

04. what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

"Sorry guys I got a little too excited 😞" (there is never a time where me and my friends aren't jokingly talking about blowing a load)

05. what made you start your blog?

Wattpad sucks. AO3 is complicated. Tumblr = I don't have to write long multi chapter stories.

06. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

best part: I have a community of people who like what I do and leave me comments that make my smile reach my eyes

worst part: seeing other creators being hated on (for no reason) or having their blogs copied bc others are too lazy to put in the work for their own blog. (I would say getting hate but I don't get much of that thankfully)

07. what scares you the most and why?

being alone. I like to have alone time but I couldn't imagine being by myself all the time without anyone to talk to or have fun with.

08. any reacquiring dreams?

every other year I get this dream about this guy, I know his voice and his appearance but his face is just a white blur. He always embraces me in hugs and talks to me. I wonder if i'll ever meet him irl or not. who knows?

09. tell a story about your childhood

when I was 4 I decided to cut off my hair for no reason (I was a bad kid)

10. would you say you’re an emotional person?

not really? I try not to be that emotional around people I don't know well and I don't even like crying in front of family. Also I suck at comforting people.. I'm one of those "just don't be sad" people 😭 I might be apathetic towards sensitive people. my youngest sister is very sensitive and she cries about everything.

11. what do you consider to be romance?

i have no clue cuz i've never really experienced it but if I had to make a guess it would be when your whole presence lights up when being around someone you like/love.

12. what’s some good advice you want to share?

just be yourself. fuck what others think about you and don't change for anyone but yourself.

13. what are you doing right now?

i'm supposed to be getting dressed so i can hang out with my family but i'm just scrolling on tumblr as of now lololol

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been too scared to do?

wear what I wanna wear, I get scared of being judged by people

15. what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

my grandma's room. I miss her :((((

16. if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

i would stop being such a gossip, it gets me into trouble :/

17. name 3 things that make you happy

my dog, being a good big sister, writing (when I'm not pressured)

18. do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

naur.

19. favorite thing about the day?

I like when the sun's setting and everything starts to rest.

20. favorite things about the night?

the peaceful quietness.

21. are you a spiritual person?

yes, i'm a Christian, but I do struggle a lot because I want to do what I want to do vs what God has in store for me

22. say 3 things about someone you love

thank you for putting up with me even when I lie to you.

i'm glad you're always there for me and you love me.

you're doing great as a mother and I wish I could express that better.

23. say 3 things about someone you hate

every time I see your face my day is ruined

I wish you would shut up

I swear if you look at me like that again I might just... (these are the more tame thoughts)

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

i've been working on saying "no" when I don't want to do something.

25. favorite season and why?

winter = no bugs + snow

26. favorite color and why?

red, I've loved red since I was little. the color is so fiery like my spirit + passion

"it has historically been associated with sacrifice, danger, and courage. Modern surveys in Europe and the United States show red is also the color most commonly associated with heat, activity, passion, sexuality, anger, love, and joy."

27. any nicknames?

maya, meezy, moo or maya moo (the last three are off limits for anyone who is not my mom)

28. do you collect anything?

everything. I wont be surprised if I end up on one of those hoarder shows. I literally have a bunch of papers from high school.

29. what do you do when you’re sad?

think. I try to think about why I feel this way or what's making me feel this way.

30. what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

my family and my dog :)

31. are you messy or organized?

messssyyyyyyyy. I try to clean up but i'm like "i'll do it later" I do clean when I think it's gotten to a point where I need everything to be straightened up.

32. how many tabs do you have open right now?

nine.

33. any hobbies?

singing, cooking, playing Roblox, writing, reading, watching yt videos.

34. any pet peeves?

people chewing with their mouth open or chewing gum really loud :/ (my sister does this all the time)

35. do you trust easily?

i'm skeptical but if it i'm comfortable with you easily than yes, if not then it might take me awhile to trust you.

36. are you an open book or do you have walls up?

I act like I have walls up but i'm really an open book

37. share a secret

i told someone I had a bf so he would stop hitting on me when I don't... i'm awful at saying no.

38. favorite song at the moment?

either king of the fall or don't break my heart

39. youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

coryxkenshin. I got bored so I started rewatching his videos

40. any bad habits?

I procrastinate a lot and I talk about people behind their backs... (mostly people I don't like. ya i'm a fake friend at times I LOVE ALL OF YOU THO CUZ YOU GUYS DON'T DO ANYTHING MEAN TO ME)

not sure who to tag so anyone who wants to do it can!!!

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

#get to know me :)

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ririknoxville · 1 month ago

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★ presentation ★

Oh hi! Welcome to my blog :P

Let me introduce myself, my name is Lari, I'm from Argentina (that means I speak Spanish), I'm a minor and I'm a big fan of Jackass, Oasis, The Strokes and Sponge Bob.

I love to write, paint, draw and play a little guitar. I also love to read, make bracelets and sleep, but sleep TOO MUCH lol.

I'm also a multifandom fan, although I almost always talk about my same 4 obsessions.

I can often talk about some pretty heavy topics without meaning to. I can talk about $h, ēd, $u¡c¡de, emotional problems, crises and things like that. (obviously I will post a TW when I touch on those topics)

Also, if you have any questions, want to get any pictures of Jackass or want to make me a request for any oneshot from the fandoms I'm in, don't hesitate to send it to my questions box <3

★ fandoms ★

– Jackass

– HIM

– Blink-182

– Sponge Bob

– Oasis

– Blur

– The Strokes (and The Voidz)

– Metallica

– My Chemical Romance

– The Beatles

– Lady Gaga

And more that I don't even remember, is that I'm in many lol

★ Extras ★

(things I love aside)

– Lana Del Rey

– Taylor Swift

– CKY

– Fiona Apple

– Björk

– The Smiths

– The Velvet Underground

– Aphex Twin

– Nick Drake

– Katie Jane Garside

– Mazzy Star

– Black Metal and Death Metal

– Death Grips

– Machine Girl

– Radiohead

– Coca Cola Zero (lol)

– BEARS!! (And teddy bears :P)

Get to know me better here:

♡ Spotify ♡

♡ Letterboxd ♡

♡ my personal tumblr ♡

♡ Pinterest ♡

♡ thanks for reading ♡

♡ Click Me ♡

#mtv jackass #cky #presentation #argentina #oasis band #lady gaga

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internetgremlin-writes · 2 years ago

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Omg I almost missed this by thinking I was gonna actually sleep tonight, good thing I checked tumblr first 💪🏽but please could I request #132 and #137 for my mans, carlos sainz jr? I just want a really romantic carlos for sad lonely me :) sorry if this is long, I just really like interacting with authors I love- anyway, congratulations!! sending much love <3

132 - "I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much,"

137 - "Do you know how beautiful you are? It's truly distracting,"

Hi, hi hello!! Aww you're an angel, thank you so much for this!! And YES thank you for interacting - speaking from the other side I cannot express how much it means when people interact with your posts, and it's even better when you see the name multiple times, it's like little pals you look for <3

Anyway I hope you like this one, I worked extra hard to make it as fluffy as possible after the last one haha

also we are not going to mention the fact im using a wheel of names to decide the order of what's getting done now

that smile will be the death of me

Waking up in bed with Carlos Sainz was one of your favourite things in the universe.

You'd been together for a while now, and his friend long before that. Your relationship was one of those where the lines blurred together. You couldn't remember the exact day high fives turned into intertwined fingers, or celebratory hugs turned into making out in his driver's room.

It was actually the fans that had gotten you together. Working so closely with him for years meant that there were always pictures of you two together, and through being caught on behind the scenes videos and in the background of paddock coverage, you became a fan favourite amongst the non-drivers of F1. You were fairly used to being caught by paparazzi, especially as you were often escorting Carlos, who was the object of anyone with half a brain's attention. It was Carlos who picked up on it, and that day you did remember clearly.

He'd given one of his signature shrieks, the one you knew would be immediately followed by that ridiculous squawking laugh he only did when he was completely comfortable and totally amused. It took him a moment to compose himself before he showed you the video he was watching. It was a TikTok, obviously, because only TikTok had the ability to create chaos like that. The video was titled "My Favourite F1 Conspiracy Theories", which you thought was pretty funny in itself.

They were mostly silly, things about drivers losing seats and FIA biases towards certain teams, and a certain Monegasque driver with a home race curse. You were just starting to wonder what was quite so funny about the video Carlos was showing you when you recognised the set of images that outlined the penultimate theory.

"Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N are secretly dating," the creator was explaining, and in the background was a collection of paparazzi pictures of yourself with Carlos. Individually you'd thought nothing of them, but when they were collected together like that the image was clear. His hand on the small of your back, guiding you through a door. You hugging him, his hands on your hips and your arms wrapped around his neck. The pair of you out to dinner, you laughing at something he'd said, him leaning forward with that killer smile and his attention solely on you. You walking so close together that with the blurred image it wasn't clear if your fingers were intertwined or not. Carlos, holding you, his mouth pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"Must be a big secret if I didn't know I was dating you," you'd murmured, your mouth dry and suddenly very, very aware of the lack of space between you. He made a noise in the back of the throat, and just watched you for a second, those big brown eyes fixed on your face.

"Are we?"

"What?"

"Are we dating?" you stared at him because who asks that? Your expression must have given away the bewilderment. "I kiss you," he said simply as if that cleared up everything.

"I think there's a bit more to dating than just kissing, Carlos," his eyes focused on something behind you, zoning out for a moment and then coming back to you.

"Yes,"

"Yes?"

"I think we are dating," if this was his way of asking you out it was weird, but Carlos was a little weird (and incredibly adorable).

"Me too," you said because after a moment's reflection you realised that you'd been playing the role of Unofficial Girlfriend without even knowing it, for who knows how long.

"Okay then," he nodded and that was it. Carlos never brought it up again.

But you did notice he was a little more touchy with you in public. He was quicker to hold your hand. You stopped creeping out of his room in the middle of the night.

The feeling of his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you gently into his back brought you back to the present day. Your bare skin pressed against his hard chest was a heavenly feeling. He was always so warm, it was like having the best electric blanket in the world. He made a low grunt in his sleep, which only made you snuggle deeper into his arms. Mornings like this, when he had a day off and you were allowed to wake up without ringing alarm bells and instant activity, made everything else you did with him so worthwhile.

"Good morning, mi sol," ever since he'd accidentally called you a nickname in Spanish instead of English and you'd practically jumped him on sight he made a point to allow more of his home language to infiltrate. You squirmed in his arms, partly in pleasure at the nickname, and partly because he was peppering your neck with feather light kisses and the combination of his scruffy beard and long hair was tickling you.

"Good morning," you turned in his arms, not able to resist his kiss any longer. He met you with equal enthusiasm, his large hand coming up to cradle your face as you melted into him. When he pulled away it wasn't far, your foreheads touching and noses brushing against each other.

"I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much," God, he was such a romantic. It made your heart swell because you felt exactly the same. Everything in your life revolved around Carlos, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Even if the both of you were teased mercilessly in the paddock because Carlos was like a puppy with separation anxiety these days.

It was a slow kind of day. After a morning of fooling around in bed, the pair of you finally stumbled into the shower because his stomach was growling so loudly that breakfast had to become a priority. He insisted on cooking for you, even though you were more than capable of fixing the food too.

You were wearing one of the dress shirts he'd worn over the weekend, only half the buttons done up and it only just grazing your thighs. Your legs were bare as the only other item of clothing you wore was your panties. Carlos was no better, a pair of light grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. It was too hot for a shirt, he claimed, and you weren't complaining. You were leaning on the breakfast bar in his house, watching the tanned Adonis you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend making you breakfast.

He was focused on the eggs, his head tilted down to give you his incredibly sharp profile, his long hair shining in the sunlight and flopping into his eyes. He'd shaved in the bathroom, so he was back to a perfectly shaped stubble shadow.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" You asked him, his attention snapping to you with a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk of his lips. He loved compliments. "It's truly distracting," which made him break out into a grin, forcing him to look away for a moment as you spotted a light pink hue creeping up his neck. He put the pan of eggs down away from the head and came over to where you were, lifting you onto the counter with ease and settling himself between your legs.

"I think I'm supposed to be the one to call you beautiful," his voice was a low rumble in his chest, his accent made the words sound like cursive.

"You can show me," you offered, earning yourself a raised eyebrow and a very smug look.

"It would be my honour,"

#1.3k prompt night #please please tell me i did the fluff good #i am bad at fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #formula one #f1

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firesidetextiles · 2 years ago

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Hi, I just saw your wooden planchette purse (super cute!) and I was curious how you take your photos? Getting that smooth all white background and lighting and stuff

Hello! Thank you!!

Apologies for this being so long. I can def chat about photography. Let me know if I can answer any other questions or go into even more detail!

For the most part I take photos on a white background in two ways. The planchette purse ones were taken on a MyStudio background which is a white plastic corner thing that looks like this:

I got it on Amazon years ago after Skullery (ParliamentRook here on Tumblr) talked about using one. (the price has gone up there so maybe check other stores if interested)

However! I also just use large pieces of Bristol board paper, either flat on a table or with it taped or weighed down into a similar curved backdrop (running along a wall for the back and across a table on the bottom). Here's a pic of it flat:

And here's what that shot looks like on my phone:

Here's a picture of it kind of curved against the cat's bed instead of a wall:

Here's the final edited shot from my camera.

(I know these two samples don't show very much white background like the purse photos do, but I can't find too many photos that show the full setup as is, zoomed out. I've use the paper trick for a lot of my photos though, especially the embroidery hoop art pieces. You can use multiple pieces of large paper for large photo subjects by either erasing or editing out where one edge of the paper overlaps another.)

The big trick is to use natural - but diffused - light as much as possible! To the direct left of these photos is a huge living room window (the first sample photo is taken where the lamp is in the second). The folded white Bristol on the right side in both shots bounces the light from the window back across the photo subject.

As far as diffused light, it'll kind of depend on your region/location and windows. Bright but overcast/cloudy is best because the light is being softened through the clouds. Timing during different parts of the day/seasons can help too, like morning over midday. Sunny direct light can blow out details and cause sharp shadows. I'm personally having a difficult time getting good natural lighting for photography now in my current living situation because the light here is always so bright. The pictures of the purse and the sample pics above were all taken in Washington state. It was easier to get shots in winter/spring instead of summer. I feel like I developed a good photo style while living there and I can't quite capture light and color that way anymore unfortunately.

I'd recommend checking out all your windows and the way the light shifts throughout the day. At a friend's house, taking them right outside her garage door was the best and at previous place I lived it was out on the front patio.

This is one of my recent photo experiments using light indoors (there's a second bulb above just out of frame):

There's also ways to make simple lightboxes like this one (and this video gives a good visual for the curved paper backdrop I tried to describe):

youtube

As far as stats for other info, the camera I shoot with - besides my phone - is an old Nikon D50 with a 50mm f/1.8D fixed lens originally for shooting concert photography. My only other lens is broken, but the f/1.8 makes it great for low light as needed. (Lowering the f-stop also gives you that depth of field blur.) A tripod can be super helpful, especially if it's low light and you need to lower the shutter speed and use a timer. I shoot all my camera photos in RAW instead of JPG because it gives you way more options for photo editing before any adjustments in Photoshop. On my phone I use Afterlight for photo editing.

If you read this entire thing, thank you for sticking it out! And again, if anyone has any questions or if I can take sample pics or anything, feel free to drop me an Ask. <3

#anonymous #anon #ask #asks #long post #photography #photography questions #photography behind the scenes

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Could you repeat the question?

pairing: Taehyung x reader, oc x Yeonjun (TXT)

premise: a joint interview with your group, BTS, and TXT two months after you met your soulmate.

word count: 2k

[2/2] continuation of Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself

requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post!

------------------------------------------

“Please don’t tell them.”

“Me? Why would I say anything?”

“You...you have that look.”

Yeonjun whirls around to face Taehyung, who just entered the room. “Do I have a look?”

Taehyung winks at you in greeting, something that nearly makes you swoon and your group members snicker.

“A look?” He frowns for a moment before giving his dongsaeng a pitiful smile. “Oh yeah, you do. Definitely.” Taehyung smiles at Jiwoo, my band member who is busy sending death glares at her soulmate. “He’s gonna spill it.”

Yeonjun jumps up from his seat at the same time Taehyung settles down beside you, placing his arm on the back of the couch and brushing your hair off to the side. It’s enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, which of course he notices.

Oh, how you’d like to wipe that knowing little smirk off his face right now.

“I can’t believe this! I’m not going to say a thing-”

“Yeonjun, and I’m saying this with love, if you say a single thing about it, I will personally unplug your refrigerator when you least expect it.”

Your attention is pulled away when you feel Taehyung leaning in to whisper something in your ear. “So, do we know what they’re arguing about?”

You can’t help but giggle. “Nope. Jiwoo won’t say anything.”

“Neither will Yeonjun.”

The smitten couple have been teasingly arguing for the entirety of the morning, leaving the rest of us in complete and utter confusion.

Oh well, I suppose it’ll help make the broadcast a bit more exciting.

It’s been two months since Jiwoo and I first *ahem* teleported to our soulmates at the MAMA awards. Or rather, since I landed in Taehyung’s lap and Jiwoo was nearly knocked unconscious when Yeonjun was thrown into her at full force. Of course, Jiwoo claims that it was horribly embarrassing, to which I’m always quick to say that she should feel lucky that at least she didn’t end up in a grown man’s lap. For all to see, no less.

Ari, our other group member, just rolls her eyes and tells us that beggars can’t be choosers.

Yeah, whatever that means.

The past two months have been busy, with hardly enough time to spend with my soulmate. Between the busy schedules and BTS and TXT and our own schedule, we’ve had to settle for late-night FaceTimes and the occasional lunch at the Bighit building. I’ve become really good at sneaking in and out of that building in broad daylight - so far I have yet to be discovered.

Today, however, is an important one. It’s our first official schedule together as soulmates. Naturally, all three groups have come together for the interview/variety show.

“Alright, time to head on!” A manager shouts into the room, and suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as we all head toward the door. “I need all the soulmates to stick to their own groups, ok? We don’t want to be causing a riot today.”

Right. With a gloomy expression, Taehyung parts from me to head back to his members. Jiwoo and I glue ourselves to Ari’s side, much to her chagrin. “Ready?”

Both you and Jiwoo respond simultaneously. “Nope.”

Ari just sighs, feigning annoyance. Together, the three of you await your cue as one by one, your groups are introduced.

TXT goes first, the hosts making a big deal out of swooning over Soobin who now has a cult of his own due to his MC abilities. They make a show of handing the microphone over to him, begging him to take it over from there. He politely declines, while the rest of the boys bicker and chat in the background.

Then your group is called out, and you find yourself walking out before a huge crowd. You didn’t realize that many people could fit in this building, but here they are. And all of them are here for the same reason: to get a look at the soulmate couples that have newly formed.

And that have been trending on Twitter and Tumblr for two solid months, breaking all kinds of records.

As BTS is introduced with an almost reverent tone, you understand why you’ve been trending for so long.

It has a lot to do with one of the men walking out right now, smiling at the crowd and waving, graciously bowing his way across the stage.

Taehyung wears a gray casual suit which has him looking like he just stepped off a photoshoot. Hair perfectly styled and eyes glowing with adoration for the fans that roar and wave, he commands the entire room with a single raise of his eyebrows.

Your soulmate, ladies and gentlemen.

Today is the day where you prove to the rest of the world how much of a perfect match you are for this man. The notion is terrifying.

“Wow!” The host, a jovial man named Donghyun shouts out, exaggerating how amazed he is by the crowd’s reaction to all three groups sharing the same stage. Indeed, it’s a rare sight. “Ok! Should we get started?”

After a few minutes of more introductions, a few cursory questions (he asks Yeonjun what he’s been up to recently and you’re pretty sure Jiwoo manages to telepathically threaten him, because he chooses the most vague answer imaginable), and instructions on how to begin the next activities, you’re off to the races.

Painting races, that it.

Donning a frock and eyeing the empty canvas before you, you glare at your opponent across the way. Taehyung, to his credit, refrains from winking at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered, but now’s not the time.

“Taehyung-ssi!”

Taehyung blinks up at Donghyun. “Yes?”

“Are you going to let your soulmate win?”

The game is simple: paint the listed object with as much detail as possible in a sixty second period. The others will have to guess what it is.

Taehyung pouts his lips a bit, glancing over at you with a glint in his eye. “I’ll have to see, I think.”

Donghyun chuckles into the mic, turning to face you. “What about you? If Taehyung-ssi falls behind, will you help him win?”

You wiggle your eyebrows at your soulmate, heart soaring when he delivers a boxy grin. “Oh, of course not. I came to compete, not hold hands.”

The crowd bursts out laughing, and someone yells out, “I’ll hold his hand for you!”

You all dissolve into a fit of laughter at that, your cheeks blushing madly. “Yeah, thanks for the offer,” you say between giggles. Readying your paint brush, you wait for the signal.

You’ve been given the word ‘Iceland’, which you figure shouldn’t be too hard.

What you failed to account for was the fact that you’re perhaps the worst painter you know. What should look like a globe looks like a basketball and what should be a cube of ice instead looks like nothing more than a cardboard box.

In the end, you’re pretty sure you laugh more than you paint. Your team members, consisting of a mix from both teams, look utterly confused at the end product. Eventually it’s Jin - who happens to be on Taehyung’s team - that accidentally calls out the answer.

The rest of the games pass by in a blur of laughter and covert glances toward Taehyung. He always manages to find a way to make you laugh, even though he remains on the other side of the stage for the most part. You don’t miss all of the fans that look at him dreamily, and you can only hope that they’re happy with your overall performance today.

At the end, you all squeeze onto a couple of couches. Donghyun makes a fuss over allowing the soulmates to sit together, and you can’t hide your smile as a beet-red Yeonjun sidles down to the couch to sit beside Jiwoo, placing his hands in his lap and trying not to do anything that will go viral.

Taehyung sits on your right, crossing his arms in a way that pulls on his suit jacket enough to expose the outline of his biceps. You catch your eyes wandering, snapping your attention back to the front where Donghyun reads some questions off of a card.

“I believe that this was the first time soulmates have met while performing at MAMA, is that correct? What were your first thoughts when you suddenly found yourselves face to face with your soulmate?”

The four of you that now have all the attention riding on your shoulders look to each other for help. Finally, with a racing heart, you answer first.

“I think the obvious answer is that I was shocked,” you smile as knowing chuckles ripple through the room. “But I was also really grateful, because Taehyung was so kind and understanding. The staff were very professional and helped us quickly. Overall, I really can’t imagine it having happened in any other way.”

There’s a few ooh’s and aww’s that greet your ears, but you look down at your lap as you blush. Taehyung slightly nudges your knee with his own, and in that simple movement you feel the comfort that he’s trying to give you.

“I’d actually been talking to Jiminie earlier about soulmates,” Taehyung pipes up.

“Oh, yeah! That’s right!” Jimin says, giving his friend a slap on the shoulder. “What are the odds?”

Taehyung flashes a shy smile. “I told him that I felt like I was ready. It can be strangely lonely sometimes, and there are times when I just felt like I was missing something. Now, all I have to do is pick up my phone and my missing piece is on the other side, ready to talk with me.”

Now people are really swooning, you included. You dare to peek over at your soulmate, heart nearly melting when you see that his shy smile is paired with pink cheeks. You wish that you could snuggle up to him right now, but that would definitely not end well. Instead, you lightly nudge his knee with your own, returning the little slice of comfort he provided you earlier.

“And you two?” Dongyun asks after wiping fake tears away from his eyes.

Yeonjun chews on his bottom lip, Jiwoo too lost in thought to notice that he has that look again.

“I, er...” Yeonjun begins, squirming a little in his seat. “I was...really happy.”

Donghyun urges Yeonjun to continue. “Of course you were! What about finding Jiwoo made you so happy?”

Jiwoo looks up in horror, but it’s too late. Yeonjun has already opened his mouth and begun to speak.

“I was so happy because the first thing she said to me was that she thought I was so hot.”

Radio silence.

And then-

“Oh-ho!! Yeonjunnie you’re so dead!” Hueningkai laughs, and soon everyone follows suit. Even Donghyun has to throw his hand over his mouth to keep himself from snorting with laughter.

Jiwoo looks at Yeonjun, who completely avoids her gaze as he stares unblinking at the floor. Then, quietly enough for nobody to hear except for you who sits beside her, she whispers, “Say goodbye to all the perishable items in your fridge.”

In the chaos that ensues, Taehyung discreetly traces circles against your arm and mumbles, “Why didn’t you say that to me when we first met?”

You smack his shoulder. “I should be asking you the same thing!”

Just before everything calms down again, Taehyung leans over to grab the abandoned canvas on the ground. Taking the still-wet paint and dipping his finger into it, he draws something out on it. Nudging you to get your attention, he flashes the canvas for you to see, hiding it from the cameras.

It’s hard to keep a neutral expression as you see his handiwork. It’s just six words, but they’re enough to have your entire face flushed a moment later.

I think you’re hotter than Yeonjun ;)

Stifling a laugh, you roll your eyes. “I hope you know I’m keeping that,” you mumble. Taehyung grins.

“Great. We’ll get it framed.”

A few days later, you do. It hangs in the front room of your apartment, for all to see. And for Jiwoo to loathe, as it serves as a constant reminder of her embarrassing first words to her soulmate.

Oh well. In the words of Ari, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

masterlist

#taehyung x reader #v x reader #v oneshot #taehyung oneshot #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts soulmate au #taehyung soulmate au #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #txt fluff #txt soulmate au #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x soulmate #bts sfw

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permanentcrossfics · 4 years ago

Text

Blurred Lines: A Different Christmas // h.s.

How do we write Christmas fics in a really weird year? I’m still not sure, but I tried to string together a bit of relief for the end of December. I’m shutting myself up now, even though there’s lots I want to say. This is for anyone who wants it, anyone who needs it, anyone who enjoys it (or hates it!) silently and vocally alike. My Christmas gift is the happy and unexpected bonus of anyone reading what I have so much selfish fun thinking of and spinning out. Happy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and a happy and merry end of December if you don’t and are just doing you! x

9.1k

It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree – something real in a year that had felt anything but – was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending?

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

“You coming home with me this year?”

Again. He asked the same question you’ve been dodging for weeks since plans had started to look uncertain again, not because he was pestering you, but because somehow, some way, you were both hoping for an answer with a loophole.

“I can’t,” you said softly, regretfully, holding your phone close to your face with one arm as you curled up under the duvet of a bed in an apartment that had somehow become yours together instead of his alone throughout the course of a very new, very different, very unsettling year. “For a few reasons.”

And he knew that.

Harry’s deep breath crackled and he dragged his hand down his face, holding it there as he shook his head, the thought processes you’d learned to read so well hidden from view.

You’d liked going home with him last year -- loved it, even. You’d hardly had time to look forward to a repeat when the world had flipped in the first quarter or sooner, and the sand had just kept slipping through the hourglass until all time for hope of a new and normal Christmas was gone and sucked away into the void of the year.

So many plans. So many memories that lived only as memories of daydreams now. So much else, so much more important, devastating, and tragic you couldn’t even put it into words and, frankly, didn’t want to. Not now -- you spent too much time thinking about it to think about it now, too.

“Filming’s done soon,” he said from behind his hand. “I can book my flight to New York--”

“Harry--”

“And then go to Manchester after Christmas -- after the New Year, we always take a bit of a longer break. Mum won’t mind--”

“Your mother’s barely seen you since last Christmas,” you said. “Your sister, too, and there’s not enough time to--”

“Course there is!”

“Two weeks quarantine in each?” you asked. “That’s a month of staying put, let alone--”

A split second glance at his face was all you saw before the screen went black and you bit your tongue. He hadn’t hung up, because you’d heard the soft thud when his phone collided with his chest, and you could hear him breathing now, so you waited, suppressing your own urge to snap as he had his. Despite having spent the better part of the year together, it was frustrating to think about not being together for the season. All you wanted was him, though you knew better than to voice it out loud. He’d do it -- for you, he’d do it if you asked him to -- and you’d have to live with the guilt of taking him away from his family at the time of year where family should be together most, if it mattered to them. And you’d been weirdly lucky enough to have him most of the year between carefully navigated business trips. He was only one man with one body. It didn’t -- couldn’t -- matter that you wanted him, too.

That you wanted to be with the man you loved.

When he picked up the phone again, his face was drawn, tired, and not just from filming, you suspected.

“Go home,” you urged, swallowing the break in your voice. “You miss home, and home misses you. I’ll have fun decorating and send you all the pictures you won’t be able to do anything about.”

His throat bobbed hard, audibly, and his eyes looked dangerously shiny.

“Next year I’ll go home with you,” you said, burrowing half your face into your pillow. “London and Holmes Chapel both.”

“Next year,” he said eventually, voice raspy. “We’ll have Christmas at home next year.”

You nodded, forcing the lump rising up, up, and up back down. “You should go to sleep,” you said. “It’s late and you have to be up early.”

“Later for you,” he said and you sighed, noting the 3:08 timestamp at the top of your screen.

“Let’s go,” you said. “Call me when you can.”

“I will.” Sad, but resigned. You wanted to reach through the screen and touch the downturned corners of his mouth to push them back upright again. “Sleep well, and I love you.”

Taking a deep breath, you murmured, “I love you, too,” before hanging up the call and the room descended into darkness and you into a fitful sleep.

***

At first, you were determined to make the most of it. Your studio had always been small, cozy, and Christmasy to the best of your abilities, but his -- your -- apartment had so many more possibilities. Candles were the first to be set out, with strategic clusters of red, green, and gold-colored wax placed all about and nestled in fake holly wreaths. String lights that cast a pretty glow lined windows even in the bedroom for some last minute holiday cheer, and despite the urge to drive him up a wall, you did your best to only pick out other decorations that you’d both like and want to use in the future. Because as much as you might avoid talking about it in many certain terms the longer the relationship went on (it still felt so funny to think that a one night stand had turned into a relationship), there was a future. He was your future. It wasn’t your first Christmas together, but it might be your last one apart.

He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree -- something real in a year that had felt anything but -- was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending?

Wiping your nose, you stood, eyes heavy, swollen, and itchy. With your coat gone, you heaved the tree up until it was sitting securely in its stand, needles scattered in its wake but branches full and outstretched, enveloping you in the warm smell of Christmas in a way the cedar- and balsam-scented candles couldn’t. Stepping back with your hands on your hips, you looked up at it, the swell of your anxiety simmering, thanks partly to your crying fit and partly to succeeding at the task. You’d decorate it bit by bit to draw the season out, and then on Christmas Eve, you’d call him and you’d both sit by your own trees and talk until it was Christmas Day for him. It was just for now -- this wasn’t the way of all ways for all time.

Click.

You nearly passed out cold from the rush of fearful adrenaline shooting through you when the lock on the door clicked. In three seconds, you ran through whether or not you’d locked the door, determined that you had but then had forgotten, and figured out that somehow, someone had gotten in and they weren’t supposed to. You spun, frozen, brain zooming to determine if you dove behind a sofa or if you charged, but you didn’t get the chance before the door opened.

A duffle bag, a foot, a body, in that order, and then a pair of wide, green eyes rimmed with circles just above a cloth mask.

“You do not get to be mad at me,” he said, voice muffled. He grunted and pushed the door open wider to bring in the rest of his luggage as you stood there, as equally speechless as you were breathless. “I tested before I came here,” he said, speaking with a loud if exhausted sort of authority, like he was trying to get the words out before you could protest. “But I’ll take the guest room, and I’ll get my own food, and we’ll keep out of each other’s space until the two weeks are up.”

He brought his bags in the rest of the way, and it was only when he was halfway by you that he stopped in his tracks. “Y’haven’t moved,” he said, eyebrows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Are you all right?”

Lightheaded, you nodded.

“O… kay,” he said, stilted, still eyeing you. “M’just gonna go get settled and showered, then.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, the words finally forcing themselves from you.

“S’Christmas.”

“You’re supposed to--”

“Mum knows,” he interrupted. “M’taking Christmas here this year. Gem’ll have Christmas with her and I’ll go along after. She’s excited about having two. ‘Scuse me….”

Nodding, you waved him away to hurry, shoo, because you could feel the emotions rising in you again and your confusion wasn’t enough to quell them. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been kneeling on the floor with aching knees, crying, and now here he was.

You’d wrestle with the confliction of doing what was right and doing what you wanted… later. Later, when you could wrap your head around it and the choice he’d made.

Two weeks. That would put you just on Christmas Day, basically. Just two weeks.

***

Dodging him around the apartment was a lot more difficult than you would’ve guessed for how big it was. More than once you nearly slammed into him in the kitchen, and someone was always in the favored bathroom. For his part, he’d taken to wearing a mask when he roamed, and even though you told him he didn’t have to do that, all he did was hum behind it. You got it -- the positive result from the crewperson on set had spooked everyone, and he was being safe. You both were being safe, but for as mindful as you’d been throughout, all you wanted to do was hold him, hug him, kiss him. Video calls were ridiculous when you were in the same house and you could hear his laugh through the walls. But you got it, and if you kicked too much he’d book a hotel to quarantine away from you, so you’d rather have him here, as selfish and risky as it was.

It was three days into your little bubble that he finally dared to get within arm’s reach of you. You were mulling over where to put the chimney sweep ornament when he shuffled over to the foot of the ladder you were leaning on, and you raised an eyebrow, arm outstretched.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head, the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Just watching,” he said from behind his mask.

“You’re standing a little close, aren’t you?” you teased. Jokes were all you had -- all anyone had this year, if they were lucky.

Immediately, he scowled -- how funny you could tell what his face looked like so clearly even with the cloth stretched firmly across it -- and you giggled. “Watch what you’re doing,” he said, taking his hands from his sweatshirt pocket to grab the ladder legs, and with his support, you held on tightly and leaned over to place it on the prime branch.

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to pass me that box?”

He did so and you murmured your thanks, resting it on the top step as you pulled ornaments out to hang them.

“Not there,” he said before you could drop a hook over a branch with a snowflake. “Give it… thank you.” He took it carefully from you and placed it on a different one closer to him, lower than where you were placing it but slightly higher than you could reach without a ladder.

“Thank you.”

Together, slowly, ornaments were hooked and rehooked (and rehooked yet again when one of you noticed the other had moved them from a spot you each thought was perfect) until the tree was trimmed, each branch heavily laden, bearing the weight of ornaments and of providing joy after the year behind.

“How’d you get this home?” he asked, looking up at it with you once you were off the ladder.

“Carefully,” you said dryly. “Oh! The top.” You turned, but he cut across your path.

“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the box from the precarious stack next to the coffee table.

“I want to,” you whined and he snorted.

“You’ve done the whole bloody thing,” he said without venom. “Let me do just the one.” With it in hand, he climbed the ladder as you held it steady, and he set it on the topmost branch, prodding it until it was tall and straight up, all five points outstretched and shining.

“That’s perfect,” you said under your breath, resting your head on his leg, and he patted the top of your head gently. You stayed like that for a minute, two, three, and more, with your arm curling around his calf, embracing as much physical contact as he’d allowed since he came home. “How many more days?”

“Eleven.” He sounded thoughtful, resentful, and exhausted all in one go. You squeezed his leg and kissed his knee through his joggers.

“Then it’s Christmas,” you said.

He exhaled slowly, still patting your head. “Christmas morning.”

***

Eleven. Whole. Days.

Eleven days of more of the same. He’d eased up, thankfully, and dared to venture a little closer with a mask on, because, as you’d reminded him, he had tested negative. You sat on opposite ends of the couch, enjoying the Christmas tree and decorations together, laughing, talking, planning, and exchanging stories about everything that had happened while you were apart. His, of course, were wildly more interesting, but he somehow managed to hang onto every word of even your most droll and mundane ones, and always with the right questions and supportive murmurs of agreement as necessary.

Eleven days of saying goodnight and crawling into a bed that was too big for one when two was next door.

Eleven days of not being able to share meals properly or touch each other -- sex aside -- and eleven days of Hell.

“It’s your fault,” you said one night from your end of the couch, scowling with your arms crossed. The tree twinkled happily despite your sour mood, and music that was too merry and bright played from the television.

“Me?” he asked indignantly.

“Yes! You had to do that stupid film.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re wearing a mask in our home,” you said, burrowing into the cushions. “If I want to call it stupid, I will.”

He groaned, dropping his head forward. “Baby….”

You grunted.

“It’s only a couple more days. A couple more days, and then it’s Christmas. Think of it like a present you’re waiting for.”

Despite yourself, you snorted.

“I’m all you want for Christmas, aren’t--?”

“Shut up,” you said, kicking his thigh with your extended leg. He snickered, eyes crinkled and full of light all their own.

“Couple more days,” he said, patting your ankle. “Couple more days, and then you won’t even be able to get rid of me. We’ll be in bed all weekend.”

“I’m not calling your mother from bed.”

He waggled his brows with some exaggeration and you rolled your eyes.

That had been around day five, maybe six. Suffice it to say, by Christmas Eve, you were done.

“It’s one day!” you said over breakfast in the kitchen. “One day, Harry!”

“We made it this long,” he said, pouring hot coffee into a mug that had his face printed onto the head of dancing elf -- a gift from his mother shipped along with a matching one for you that she insisted you both open ahead of time to enjoy for as long as possible. “We can make it a couple more hours.”

“If I stripped naked, what would you do? Stand there and watch me?”

He froze and looked at you over his mask, the heated warning pinning you in place. Huffing, you pushed the stool away from the counter and hopped off it.

“Where are you--?”

“Out,” you said. “I’m going to get--” You floundered. “Coffee.”

A beat passed and his eyes dropped to the mug in his hand.

“We literally have--”

“I’m going out!” you said, wrapping your neck and half your face up in a scarf to keep warm. You were going out, because you were mad, and the tantrum was burgeoning. That poor man had seen more unreasonable tantrums from you this year than he had in the entire two and a half you’d reciprocally acknowledged each other’s presence, and you hated it. But he’d hate it, too, if you’d gone on a trip for work and come back and things were off.

Could be worse, you reminded yourself. It could be so very, very much worse.

“I love you,” you said, calmly, firmly. “I’ll be back. I’m only going around the block. Take that--” You waved at his mask, “--off. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way in..”

When you returned, he was in the guest room, but a fresh cup of coffee in your own dancing elf mug rested on a mug warming plate. The last of your frustrations that hadn’t melted with the walk deflated and you picked it up, enjoying the aroma before taking a deep sip.

He always made it better. And the coffee was nice, too.

His mother called in the afternoon and you hardly noticed he was at your side until the phone was in front of your face and you gave a startled hello.

“Has he been wearing that the whole time he’s been home with you?” she asked, her gleaming eyes and wide, genuine smile matching her son’s own warmth.

Home. With you.

“He has,” you said.

“S’posed to be proud of me,” Harry said and Anne laughed.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re still calling tomorrow?” she asked you.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll be here.”

“Next year will be different, won’t it?” she all but clucked. “Did you like your mugs? I got one for me, Gemma, and Michal, too.”

“Used them just this morning,” he said, squeezing your hip and wandering away. “Won’t be posting them anywhere for people to see, though….”

Eventually -- finally -- the day drew to a close, and you crawled into bed with the knowledge that it was just one more night. One more night, and then in the morning you could say hello like you wanted to. One more night and you wouldn’t want to bite his head off. One more night and you wouldn’t feel so mental, as he would put it.

And yet, lying there, the minutes dragged. Ten? No, just one. Fifteen? Five.

It felt like Christmas, though. As much as this was pure torture, this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like -- like it used to feel when you were a kid and you’d wait for weeks tingling anticipation, counting down, hoping that you’d find what you wanted under the tree, bursting with more energy than any amount of sugar could give you. Except instead of presents, or money, or sweets, you were waiting for the man who’d been under your nose for two weeks by this point. You got to kiss your boyfriend tomorrow. You got to see your boyfriend, hold your boyfriend, and celebrate Christmas with your boyfriend.

Twenty minutes? Two.

12:02.

Two minutes after midnight.

Christmas.

Fourteen days.

Oh!

You sprang from the bed before you could think about the matter and darted to the door over the cold wooden floor, but when you rounded the corner in the hallway, out of nowhere, something all but slammed into you. Sucking in a sharp breath with a screwed up face, you squeaked when you collided with a very warm, very sturdy frame. Belatedly, two arms shot out to grab you by yours to steady you. “Oh my God, I--”

Hair, forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth, too. No mask.

“Are you o--?”

He didn’t get to finish his question. You clapped your hands over his cheeks and kissed him soundly before he could kiss you first. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d laugh -- you both would -- but rather than that, he locked both his arms around you tightly and spun you, teetering precariously with you in tow until you got to the guest bed. Tackle was an apt word for how he delivered you to it, but you were the farthest thing from upset at finally having not even an inch of space between you. The bed smelled like him and it was warm, he was warm, and you were kissing again, and again, and again, cold noses smushing together as you found new angles.

“Christmas,” he mumbled between them.

“Mmhm,” you returned against his mouth, legs interlocking with his. “I missed you,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too.”

Shivering, you both pulled the duvet up over your shoulders, and you curled up against him. Cologne, skin, and laundry detergent, with a bit of his minty toothpaste. There was no scented candle for that. You pressed your fingers against his chest and scratched lightly through the smattering of hair there. “We could go to our bed,” you reminded him, but he shook his head.

“Y’here now,” he rasped, leaning in to press his lips comfortably to your hairline, one arm draped over your back. “Let’s stay here tonight and we can change things later.”

“Were you coming to get me?” you asked, voice shaking as the last of the shivers left your bones.

“Yeah,” he admitted. You laughed, teeth chattering, and he pulled you closer. “Don’t laugh!” he said, rubbing your back and warming you. “S’been two weeks for me, hasn’t it?”

“For you!”

“You try bein’ home with you for that long,” he mumbled.

Shaking again, but less than before, you kissed the underside of his chin. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***

When you woke up, his back was to you, and his one shoulder was rising and falling with the rhythm of his sputtery, wheezy snores. You smiled, closing your eyes, and snuggled into the pillow. Better -- much better. You dozed on for an unknown amount of time, and you were walking the line between sleep and consciousness when featherlight kisses across your brow startled you and you jerked awake.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, only sounding slightly truthful. You made a noise and stretched, shaking from head to toe before curling up into a tight little ball next to him and opening your eyes fully. His own were puffy with sleep, but he grinned radiantly as if he’d been awake for a while.

“What?” you asked in a croak.

“Nothing,” he said. “Mum’s gonna call soon.”

Groaning, you halfheartedly turned your head to look over your shoulder. “What time is it?” you asked, straining to see the window and get a gauge.

“S’ten,” he said. “So about three for them. Sure you don’t want to call from bed?”

You glowered at him and his lip twitched. “I’ll put the coffee on.”

When you finally managed to leave the warm nest of the bed, the living room had been transformed. The tree was on, twinkling under the streams of light pouring in through the windows, and he’d lit the fireplace, too, flames licking up and up behind the glass. Soft, melodic Christmas music floated from the far corners of the room, and the smell of coffee tickled your nose.

“So,” he said from his spot at the island as he unwrapped cheeses and opened jars of olives, and jams, and honeys, and other goodies. “What time do we pop the bubbly?”

Laughing softly, you shuffled over. “It’s ten.”

“Little after ten now,” he said, lips pressed tightly together and arms flexed until the lid popped. “And somewhere in the world it’s five o’clock.”

You pulled a grape off the bunch lying on the counter and popped it into your mouth, chewing not so delicately but enjoying the sweet burst of freshness. You’d no sooner swallowed than his phone started buzzing and you grabbed it, sliding your finger to answer the call from the incoming Mum and pointing it at him.

“Happy Christmas, honey.” Anne’s voice was warm even through the phone, and Harry’s head whipped up.

“Wh-- Happy Christmas-- didn’t know you were-- ‘scuse the mess,” he said as you giggled behind the phone.

“Having a good morning so far?”

“Goin’ ok, yeah,” he said. “Just getting started, heating up the coffee.”

“Where’s your better half gotten off to?”

Trying not to melt, you waved your hand in front of the camera.

“Hello, love,” she said. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Anne.”

“Are we going to get to see you today?”

“Fair’s fair,” Harry chimed in. “Turn that thing around, why don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the phone and waved, sliding around the counter to stand next to him.

“That’s better,” Anne said with a firm nod. She had a red top on with a festive, sparkly necklace, and looked a good deal more put together than either one of you.

“Where’s Gem?” Harry asked, taking the phone from you so you could unbox the crackers.

“Upstairs napping off the morning,” she said. “She’ll want to call again later.”

And that was how the morning went, with each of you passing his mother back and forth while you carried plates and trays full of snacks to the coffee table and couch in front of the tree to nibble while tearing into gifts on camera, including a box full of chocolates for you, Branston pickle for him, and Christmas crackers for both of you to have, “A little bit of home this year.”

“Thank you,” you said, clutching your sweets close. “And thank you for--” Unbidden, you choked up, and Harry glanced at you sharply, his inquisition vanishing with his understanding. For sharing him -- allowing you to steal him away during the holidays in a year where everyone needed family, either by blood or choice. He squeezed your shoulders and his mother, as adept as he was at redirecting a conversation, piped up.

“Promise you’ll come see us again next year,” Anne said. “It’s been too long.”

“It has been,” you agreed, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Maybe sooner.” Harry looked down at you. “If things ease up?”

You nodded. “Summer in London,” you mused. “That would be nice.”

“And then a bit of time back home. We could go before things pick up in August.”

Summer in London. A beacon of hope you couldn’t erect just yet, but a beacon nevertheless. A bit of time with him before he, hopefully, went back to work and you got to revisit adjusted and postponed plans.

The rest of your Christmas Day was quiet -- different from the year before when you’d been overwhelmed with names, faces, screeches of Uncle Harry, and not being sure how to break your way in. You kept trays of cheese, crackers, and other snacks within an arm’s reach, and by the early afternoon both of you had a comfortably steady buzz from the bubbly he was good at topping off both your glasses with -- never sloppily drunk, but enough to be warm in your fingers and toes and to seek out cuddles from him under the blanket you were snuggled in on the sofa with paper crowns on both your heads.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, ribs crunched from how far you’d slid down on the sofa to nestle into his side, all but eye-level with his chest. “And have it not be as awful as it sounds?”

You felt his laugh before you heard it. “Sure,” he drawled. “What is it?”

Squeezing his wrist, you turned your mouth into his forearm, eyes on the television as a snowman leapt and bounded over a wide, snowy plain before jumping into the air. “I like this Christmas,” you admitted into his skin.

Harry snorted. “S’not awful, s’the point -- Christmas is supposed to be likeable.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, sighing. “I know it’s just us and there’s no family or anyone around, but… I dunno… it’s not all bad, is it?”

“Like having me to yourself?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Shut up,” you mumbled.

He kissed the top of your head, crown crunching under it, and you grunted. “S’not so bad,” he said into your hair. “Like having you all to myself, too, y’know.”

“You’re just saying that because you have to because you’re stuck with me,” you said and he laughed with another smacking kiss.

“Not stuck with me yet,” he crooned. “Can leave any time you want.”

“Maybe I will….”

“Oi!”

Giggling, you untangled yourself from him and squirmed out from underneath the blanket. “More bubbly?”

***

Boxing Day was a Christmas redux, with more cheese, sparkling wine, music, and calls with family and friends. Long distance versions of old favorite games were adapted and adopted, and you snickered quietly from the corner of the couch, staying out of his way when he shouted about how he had hit the button, it was his trackpad that hadn’t worked.

The late afternoon and on, though, was yours together and alone with the time difference breaking up the party earlier than it normally would be. The bittersweet cloud vanished, though, when you at some point you separated even further into your own activities -- him with his stack of new books and you with a film you played quietly on your laptop. Able to be near each other without having to be wrapped up and begging with your bodies for sorely missed attention, it finally, really, felt like home again.

“It’s so pretty out,” you murmured, nose pressed to the windowpane to see as much of the light-lined streets as you could. It got dark earlier and earlier these days, and yet later than it had even a few days ago. “I love Christmas in New York. I wish--” You caught yourself ahead of finishing the sentence, thinking better.

You wished it was a normal year -- for many reasons -- so you two could go out and see the city. So you could show him your favorite places, so you could make memories together like you had with him last year. It wasn’t anything life altering or new, but it was different when you were with someone you loved. You wanted him to know you -- all of you, even the unknowable parts.

“Y’know,” he said next to your ear, hand on the back of your neck as he slunk up behind you, “it’s getting pretty late.”

You turned your head slightly, looking at him in the reflection of the glass. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Too early for sleep. Was he asking for sex?

Harry hummed and shook his head. “How ‘bout you get your coat on?” he murmured. “Let’s have that Boxing Day walk we didn’t get last year.”

“Now?”

“When else?” he said. “Haven’t been out yet, and it’s late. Streets’ll be empty. We can go wherever, do whatever, see whatever.”

“You’re serious?”

Nodding, he pulled you by the arm and you stumbled with him, still processing it even as you pulled beanies on with masks and (winter) gloves.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He shrugged, calling the elevator. “Dunno,” he said. “Figured you’d lead the way. Show me your favorite bits. Seem t’remember summat about Bryant Park last year.”

There were sobering realities at the street level, too. Gates were down on storefronts that hadn’t been pulled up since March, awnings above them tattered from months of neglect and ‘For Rent’ signs flapping against them in the wind. The usual post-holiday influx of tourists was thinned, with hardly a white sneaker in sight, and everything was just a little quieter than it should be and would be in a usual year.

But there were lights. Broadway’s may have dimmed for the time being, but endless, endless displays of lights, brighter without the ambient light pouring from storefronts diminishing their power, offered beacons of hope -- literal lighthouses in a storm of a year -- and led you uptown like a trail of breadcrumbs.

You pulled him this way and that way, weaving through side streets to look at any display that looked bright enough from a distance, fingers locked tightly with his in a way they never were outside of the house. As bittersweet as it was no one was out, it afforded you a level of privacy you never had, anywhere. Not even Holmes Chapel. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d ever held his hand for this long at one time, if you were honest, and while you didn’t need it, you enjoyed the option.

In between zigs and zags, he mumbled stories to you about this time, and another time, and a time after that, pointing at buildings, venues, restaurants, and hotels, and you listened half in awe and half in earnest. It was a whole other life he’d lived without you before, and you’d only been aware of the surface of it. Nobody knew what he was telling you except the people he’d lived it with, and you didn’t think you’d ever get over or be able to thank him for trusting you to be someone he chose to share it with.

“I love Sixth,” you said, sighing as you walked past giant red Christmas ornaments three times the size of you both, the reflection of the string lights wrapped around tree branches bouncing off their shiny surfaces. Radio City’s electric red script beamed at you both from a distance, and traffic lights winked and waved in the wind up and down the avenue. “They do a lot with it.”

“It’s pretty,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Tree’s this way, isn’t it?” he asked.

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah,” you said.

He jerked his head and you blinked.

“You want to?” you asked.

“Just a bit,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“There’s people!” you warned him, because even from here you could see the trickle of people with the same thought. “And I saw online they have a schedule--”

“We don’t have to get close,” he said, pulling you firmly. “S’big enough we don’t need to, just wanna take a peek.”

He was so certain, but you were less so, because all you needed was someone to see him to break the serene bubble you’d blown around yourselves. Despite that, you shuffled with him until the tree was visible, a bright, glowing ball of multi-colored lights stretching towards the sky. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath.

“S’nice,” he said and you nodded your agreement. It was nice -- despite the sad press it had gotten, the tree had turned out very nice at the end of it all, tall and impossibly beating all odds. What a metaphor for the year.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, squeezing him around the middle.

“Come here,” Harry said next to your ear.

“Hmm?” Reluctantly tearing your eyes from the tree, you gasped when he pulled your mask down first and then his own in two swift tugs, revealing a cheeky grin with a face cradled by the fabric. “What are you doing?” you asked, eyes darting around.

“Getting a kiss by the tree with my girlfriend,” he said. “Now, come here,” he repeated. This time, you obliged and allowed him to steal one, two, three kisses, each one of them smashed against your lips with a palpable sort of eagerness that made you think he would drink you if he could. This felt… normal. Normal, safe, and free.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that.

When you broke and burrowed against his neck, he covered the back of your head and wrapped his other arm around your back, cocooning you in the shell of the most protective embrace he could give. Just a man -- any man, a regular man -- holding the person he loved, and, after his decision to stay with you through Christmas and New Years, he arguably loved you most.

Through the thick knit of your beanie, you felt him kissing your head, and you nuzzled into his scarf. “Thank you,” you said, face safely out of sight. “For coming here.”

“Not mad a’me for it?” he mumbled and you shook your head. “‘Kay, good.”

Shivering, you huddled closer and he tightened his arms, shielding you from the brisk wind.

“People will see,” you said, but despite that you held him closer.

“Who cares?”

He did, despite his quiet rasp. He did, and you knew why he did, but right then, you could pretend that it didn’t matter at all.

***

It was simultaneously the longest and shortest week of your life.

The longest, because time didn’t exist, much like it hadn’t for most of the year. Days, afternoons, evenings, and nights blended together, blurred by a happy holiday haze onset by too much of everything good -- sleep, sustenance, and spirits. The weird, if nice, part of all the extra time was having the chance to do things you’d enjoyed over the course of the year all over again. Nine times out of ten, when the two of you were together, it was rushed even on the long layovers. You’d watch one series or a film the whole way through, and next time you’d have to be on to the next one you’d agreed to hold off on until the other was there, but after having spent most of the year under the same roof, the typical race to the next one was paused. Instead, you settled in for old Christmas films and other ones you hadn’t seen since you first started properly dating, lending a timeless sort of quality to the week.

The shortest, because he’d only just gotten there. How had it been three weeks since he’d walked in the front door with a mask on and a warning? Three weeks, two of them masked, and now it was over and done. The whole year was over and done, with 2020 coming to a slow close after feeling simultaneously like it never would and like it was moving much, much too fast. Who would’ve known this would be how it would turn out after kicking it off in the back of his car with a paper plate full of snacks and the countdown on his phone? You’d made it through another year, together.

“Do you know what I just realized?” you asked as you unpacked the bag from El Diablito at the kitchen counter. In the background, the low hum of commentators on the TV remarking about how different this year was provided a steady buzz amidst familiar scenery of lights in different cities. Berlin had gone first, then London, and now, gradually, the new year on the east coast was gliding ever closer.

“What?” he asked over the noise of him unfurling the bag of tortilla chips.

“This was our first year together,” you said. “Full--” you drew an arc through the air-- “year, I mean. Saying it and all that.”

He didn’t say anything, but when you looked at him the corner of his mouth was lifted up slightly. “S’pose it is, yeah. Feels like longer.” He fished a chip out with his index and middle fingers before crunching into it noisily.

“Almost three years of everything else,” you murmured, unwrapping a taco to inspect it. “This one’s yours.”

“‘Everything else’?” he teased, snickering when you slid the taco across the counter to him. “Watch it, it’ll fall apart….”

“Shut up and eat,” you said and he barked a laugh, grin permanent and eyes sparkling as he unwrapped it to peek.

“In a minute,” he said, setting down his food, satisfied it looked right. “Come here,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, smiling slightly though you eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He motioned with his hand. “C’mere a minute,” he repeated, voice light but eyes tight, and he swallowed hard. A cold wave washed down you from head to toe. You didn’t know why you were suddenly so nervous, but the nerves themselves spiked your anxiety and made your scalp prickly and your palms sweaty, and they got worse when he grabbed one of your hands -- your left hand -- to hold between his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about summat.”

Oh, God.

“Harry,” you said, but he shook his head.

“Lemme do this.”

Five seconds. Five seconds was all it took to imagine the words coming out of his mouth, quietly, with soft, trusting eyes waiting patiently, hopefully for an answer. Five seconds was all it took for you to imagine mucking it all up with a twisted tongue, not because you weren’t sure what to say, but how to say it. No, no, no -- you didn’t want to hurt him, not even temporarily, not even by accident.

Clearing his throat, he squeezed your hand. “I dunno how to do this,” he said, and for the first time ever, you were pretty sure he laughed without his eyes. You made a noise in your throat and curled your fingertips into his palm. “I love you,” he continued, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips trying and failing to form a smile. He was terrified, but determined, and you held his hand tighter while pressing your opposite one into his cheek.

I love you, too. You couldn’t say it, but you felt them swelling in your chest, growing your heart not two, not even three, but six times over.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “M’going to spend the rest of my life with you,” with a thoughtful quality in his rasp. “I think, if-- if that’s somethin’ you….”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t, you were trying, but it was like sucking in helium.

“So, m’kind of wondering if--”

“Harry--”

“I’m not,” he shook his head. “I’m not asking you anything right now, because we’re not ready.” He rubbed the back of your hand assuringly. “We’re not ready, you have… and I’m….” He exhaled sharply, dropping his head, and your hand moved from his cheek to his hair and you rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want to know,” he said, breathing heavily, with his voice muffled into his chest, talking very fast, barreling through and tripping over words, “if I’m totally off base here. Cause m’not gonna now when there’s so much shit happening, but like… I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth when-- if I do, so if I could just get an idea of what you think, because we had a talk once but now every time you cut me off at the knees and--”

He sputtered, stopping short, and you pressed your face into his short hair.

“I want it,” you said, sounding braver than you felt admitting wants out loud. “I do. I will.”

His shoulders fell with his slow, deep breaths, and you rubbed your fingertips into his scalp gently.

“I will,” you say. “Promise,” you added, voice cracking. “You’re not off base.”

Neither of you said anything for a while. You couldn’t -- you quite literally, physically couldn’t -- and he was gulping for air as quietly as he could.

“Okay,” he said into his chest finally, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “S’good to know.”

Silly, silly man. Did he really think… did he doubt…? “I love you,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said. “I know y’do.”

“No, you don’t.” You kissed his head. “I love you, I-- you’ll never know.”

Harry took a deep breath before straightening up, head high and curls falling over his forehead above the weariest, most agonized eyes you’d ever seen. His cheeks were bright red, and he might as well have just run a marathon for how spent and miserable he looked.

“I promise,” you repeated. “I promise, honey.”

He nodded slightly, mouth still set in a thin, grim line, and, instinctively, you stepped in to kiss him, because no. No, that wouldn’t do. Stiff and unmoving at first under your lips, gradually he warmed and softened, releasing your hand to grab your hips and you moaned softly, hands running across his shoulders over his hoodie. You promised -- when it was right, when you both could, if he asked and it was what you both wanted? There was only one answer you’d ever give.

The stool scraped against the floor when he stood, but he never broke the kiss, and you squeaked when you stumbled back against the counter. You opened your mouth wider when he coaxed you to, dizzy behind your closed eyes, and you let your hands wander freely, pulling him into you as the intensity behind the kiss escalated from comfort to need.

Two weeks. Two weeks -- three -- of pent up energy. Of hardly being able to touch each other, of being close but not close enough.

“Come here,” he demanded in a mumble, the firm hold he had on your jaw to hold you in place as he kissed you the way he wanted leaving you breathless. Rarely did he ever do that; usually, he guided you into what you both wanted to build it until the bubble of tension popped. There was something thrilling about being told though -- something that reminded you of when you were new, three months instead of almost three years in. Something that was like when time was limited and you had to be efficient to learn each other and what would feel good and do good for the other and yourselves, and telling was sometimes all you had.

Harry broke away with a wounded little noise and you blinked, dazed. “M’just….” He grabbed two tacos with one hand and threw them back into the paper bag. “M’moving these.” Tacos, nachos, and burritos all went back in, topped off with the chips, and he shoved them aside with some impatience. You laughed breathily and lifted yourself up onto the counter with his help, but it faded when he stepped between your legs and cupped your cheek and jaw and you caught a glimpse of the blown pupils and flushed cheeks that gave him a wild, primal look before your own eyes shut.

Each and every tender sponging of his lips across your jaw and down your neck made you ache, and it was all you could do to stay upright and not collapse back, limp from how weak you were. His needy, mesmerized groans made your belly tighten, and when he tugged the hem of your shirt you nodded.

Shirt, sweatshirt, bra, and undershirt were the first to go, and the straps had no sooner fallen down your shoulders than you let out a wordless, guttural shout from deep in your chest when Harry latched on and sucked your nipple with greedy enthusiasm, moving with you when you squirmed, his stubble scraping the soft skin of your breast.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, eyes watering and elbow nearly buckling underneath you in your effort to hold yourself up. “Yes, please,” you said when he pulled the strings on your sweats.

“That’s my girl,” he said, releasing with a pop and latching on again. “That’s my girl… gonna make it better for you.” He stood tall again when he pulled by the waistline, and you wriggled until they were at your knees and you could kick them off the rest of the way with your underwear as he dropped his own to his ankles.

With nothing left between you, you shivered, shrinking into him when he stepped closer and drew his hands around your body in a circuit. Legs first, stomach, back, breasts, shoulders, arms, and repeat, each squeeze and dig of his hands and fingers just a little restrained and not as zealous as his groans and heavy breathing made him out to be -- like he was trying to be good, or patient, or….

“It’s ok,” you murmured between kisses. “You don’t have to wait.” They’d done the waiting -- more than enough of it. You just wanted him now.

“Sure?” Harry rasped and you nodded, eyes rolling up when he slipped his fingers between you both and they slipped up and down your folds. “Sure,” he confirmed under his breath. “Open a little more for me, love-- there we are, thank you.”

You folded your arms around his neck and over his back and locked your ankles loosely just under his ass, heart racing in your chest.

“Breathe in--” Harry murmured and you squeezed your eyes shut when he fit his head against your entrance. It slid and you laughed, kissing his jaw when he kissed your brow through his grin. “Deep breath for me.”

Every time. He did that almost every time with you, first asking for a deep breath and then, invariably, pulling a long exhale from you when he thrust into your warm, wet cunt. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered in awe, holding still. You could feel the tremors pulling each fiber in his muscles, and when he throbbed inside you, you bit your lip. “Holy shit, you’ve got me good,” he groaned.

You laughed once. “Yeah.” Yeah, something like that. Wincing, you rolled your hips forward and gasped softly from the stretch before tightening your arms and pressing your face against his hot skin. You nuzzled in between your own slow, lingering kisses, taking deep, grounding breaths. He was soft, and smooth, but firm, and hard, and he smelled amazing. Clean -- all soap and cologne with some detergent that smelled even more from the warmth of his skin.

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “Oh, God, I--” You sucked in a harsh breath, abdomen tightening as you pulsed around him, feeling wetter, and you moved your face higher, nose pressed into the base of his sheared hair as you moaned quietly. “Oh my God, I love you.” Pitchy, bordering on hysteria, but you’d be hard pressed to remember a time you felt it as much as you meant it like you did right then. “I love you, I love-- I-- you feel--” Good. Better than good. No one had ever fit like he had -- too much, but just enough, physically, mentally, emotionally.

“I love….” Harry gulped. “Shit, ok, m’gonna….” He made to pull his shoulders back, but you shook your head.

“No, no, stay,” you begged, wrapping your arms and legs tighter. “Stay, please,” you murmured.

“I can’t-- ok,” he panted. “Lemme….” He gripped your ass and pulled you closer and your back arched as you opened your thighs just a little more. “There we go,” he grunted, hips snapping forward as he finally moved. “That’s… fuck, that’s better now.”

You could hear the effort you could feel between your legs -- each sharp pull of breath between his teeth, each muted grunt between his driving thrusts, and the pants he let out when he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. “M’ok,” he said every time between labored gulps for air. “M’good, I just need to--” and he grit his teeth before he began again, and again, you gasped and whimpered, shrinking closer to him.

You didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, now or ever. You didn’t want to be this close to anyone else again ever. This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to meet you, know you, fall in love with you, nor you with him, but now he had, and you were, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way. You couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t come home to you, for you, and where you weren’t there. Not waiting -- never waiting on a man, any man, but ready for him when he returned and ready to move forward together.

He was yours. He was yours, and you were his, and the mere thought pulled something behind your belly button, making you groan.

“What?” he asked, kissing the side of your head. “What, darling, what?”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered and then whimpered, tightening your hold around his neck and in his hair. “Harry--” you choked, shuddering with your deep breaths.

“I know.” He grunted, thrusting with slightly more power. “Fuck! Tight little--”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t stop, I’m close, I’m so-- I just need--” Faster and faster you rolled your hips against his, crying out against him when he wedged his thumb between you both to catch your clit, a stream of mumbled, “I’m gonna cum, you’re making me cum,” confessions hidden in his neck. Deep breaths. Long, slow, and deep, with your toes curling behind him until you were barely breathing in your efforts to concentrate, because you were right there. And then, you did cum, hard, convulsing and sucking in harshly as you trembled your way through whimpers of his name, immediately and thoroughly exhausted.

Both his arms locked around you, then, all but crushing you to his torso in his efforts to hold you up, and he thrust hard, fast, deep, getting the right rhythm and stroke he needed. Barely able to keep your eyes open, your mouth moved soundlessly around the demand -- request -- to cum. Cum, Harry, cum, baby, please. Wordlessly, he sputtered through a sharp exhale, and it was the only indication before you felt the hot, wet release accompanying his groans.

“Fuck,” he choked, one of his hands landing hard on the counter to prop both of you up. You laughed, eyes rolling up, and you held on tightly through his turn to shake.

“Happy New Year,” you said, still feeling a little punch-drunk from your orgasm.

He nodded. “H-Happy--” he gulped. “Happy New Year, darling.” His shoulders slumped. “Reckon this was the problem,” he said. “Should’ve fuckin’ rung the year in right last time, y’know?”

“Right,” you breathed even as you shook your head, not quite caught up with what he was saying.

“M’only sayin’,” he said. “We had sex the one time last Christmas. Should’ve had… a bit more,” he said indeterminately.

“We haven’t had sex since you’ve been home.”

Sighing heavily, he kissed your shoulder. “S’pose we’d better start,” he slurred. “S’not the new year yet.”

#harry x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #christmas #blurred lines #blurred lines: adc #blurred lines: a different christmas #a different christmas #permanentcross #original writing

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1000dactyls · 3 years ago

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usually, when someone thinks of linked universe, they don’t think about katy perry. however, her hit song “last friday night” is actually a perfect linked universe song, as each verse of the song corresponds to a link’s adventure and individual struggles. despite its peppy beat, in this essay i will prove how “last friday night” is actually a song made for linked universe, a legend of zelda au created by tumblr user jojo56830.

the opening segment of “last friday night” corresponds with the link of breath of the wild, nicknamed wild. the singer describes the act of waking up:

There's a stranger in my bed / There's a pounding in my head / Glitter all over the room / Pink flamingos in the pool

wild, who struggles with his failure of defeating ganon 100 years ago in breath of the wild, cannot reconcile his “past self” with who he is. he, too, also wakes up in a bed in a weak state, as he starts the game with only three hearts. the last two lyrics also describe the landscape of breath of the wild, which is strange but wondrous as well.

the next verse corresponds with warriors, the link from hyrule warriors. as the singer continues (warning for mentioned alcohol):

I smell like a minibar / DJ's passed out in the yard / Barbies on the barbecue / This a hickey or a bruise?

the second and third lyric can be interpreted as the many people who arrive from different timelines to warriors’ hyrule, one of the problems he confronts in the war of eras. moreover, the last line also references cia’s obsession with warriors, as while she is an enemy in the game, she is also in love with him. thus it makes sense if she gave him a wound that is either one made from violence or from her obsession with him.

continuing in the song, we get the lyrics:

Pictures of last night ended up online / I'm screwed, oh, well / It's a blacked out blur, but I'm pretty sure it ruled / Damn

this verse goes to sky, as his legacy as the chosen hero—or in this case, “pictures”—end up influencing the rest of the legend of zelda series. he himself feels immense guilt toward the situation, which would align with the “i’m screwed” lyric. the “blacked out blur” also references his tendency to sleep, due to his reoccurring nightmares of the imprisoned, so the chance to sleep properly “rules.”

skipping a section of the chorus, we end up getting to the titular portion of the song:

Last Friday night / Yeah, I think we broke the law / Always say we're gonna stop, whoa / This Friday night, do it all again / But this Friday night, do it all again

this applies to the entire legend of zelda franchise, as the hero must bend the rules sometimes in order to complete his quest: sneaking into gerudo town, kidnapping the princess, etc. moreover, the cycle repeats, despite everyone’s efforts; “this Friday night, do it all again” would imply the beginning of the cycle once more.

now in the second set of verses, the singer talks about the issues they have with recalling the night before:

Trying to connect the dots / Don't know what to tell my boss / Think the city towed my car / Chandelier is on the floor

this verse applies perfectly to twilight, as he struggles to figure out the mystery of the hero’s shade/midna’s identity/why he is in hyrule castle’s dungeon. “don’t know what to tell my boss” can also reference his struggle to confess that he is the wolf to the villagers of ordon, or how to tell time that he is the hero’s shade. the third lyric also references time and twilight’s familial connection through epona: if time is the city and “took” epona, then twilight follows back his origins to lon lon ranch.

continuing on, we also get to the verse which describes the hero of legend’s adventures:

Ripped my favorite party dress / Warrant's out for my arrest / Think I need a ginger ale / That was such an epic fail

legend, who has gone on a fashion adventure in the game “triforce heroes” as well as having different sets of protective tunics, is also the only link who is technically wearing a “dress.” he is also the only one who has a plausible warrant for his arrest, as he kidnaps the princess in a link to the past; he also has a bad relationship with the hyrule knights. “think i need a ginger ale” would describe legend’s averse nature to going on another big quest, given how tired he is of all the ordeals he’s gone through, and “that was such an epic fail” could reference his biggest guilt: Koholint, which he failed to save the inhabitants.

we get another repeat verse in the song at this point. this one describes hyrule, as:

Pictures of last night ended up online / I'm screwed, oh, well / It's a blacked out blur, but I'm pretty sure it ruled / Damn

the first two lyrics describe his dilemma in zelda 2, where if he sheds any blood, ganon’s minions will be able to resurrect him. this is only due to hyrule’s previous adventure, aka “pictures of last night”, and he is “screwed” because of this. further, “blacked out blur” could reference either his origins in zelda 1 (getting the sword from the cave) or waking up the zelda in the second game. not only that, but this verse is also a pun; “pretty sure it ruled” can reference his hero’s title, and that he is also implied to become the future king of hyrule in zelda 2 by fulfilling the prophecy of waking aurora up.

as previously stated, the chorus applies overall to the adventures of link the hero and the continuous reincarnation cycle that occurs throughout the games. now we arrive at the bridge, where the singers chant “T.G.I.F” six times. this is a reference to four, as there are four letters for the four parts of him. moreover, much of four’s adventures revolve putting a stop to someone’s evil schemes, such as vaati. thus the “thank goodness it’s Friday” chant, or “TGIF”, would represent the end of vaati’s shenanigans.

this is the end of individual verses which apply to specific links of linked universe; however, every instance of “Think we kissed, but I forgot” in the chorus is time talking about Malon. the “I forgot” references his past relationship to her in ocarina of time, while the “think we kissed” refers to their current relationship.

so while our minds may not initially jump to Katy Perry when we think of linked universe, we shouldn’t be too hasty to rule her songs out. as “last friday night” has proven to be incredibly applicable to linked universe and describing each link’s individual struggle, thus explaining why it is the perfect song for linked universe.

#mochis mumbles #linked universe #linkeduniverse #dump post #if the read more fails idk what I’ll do #cry probably #i’m gonna cry. like i’m gonna cry.#im in tears over this. I don’t know how to feel #what am I supposed to do with this #had a whole mental breakdown

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

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Two Minds Think Alike

Vanny had just welcomed this stranger, William, into her head: a beige bunny with a shady past. As she tries to understand who they are and what their motives are, she discovers a fun little secret about her new bunny friend.

This fanfic was suggested by @trashylever on Tumblr. This is my first lee!Glitchtrap fanfic! So trashylever, and everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

Vanny was still trying to get used to there being more people in her head than just...herself. He kinda just introduced himself, said ‘I need a home’ and embedded himself into Vanny’s brain without a proper introduction. She didn’t even know who he was. And yet here he is: living in her head. If she’s gonna learn to live with him, she’s gonna have to get to know him.

Vanny closed her eyes and pushed herself deeper into her head. There, she saw the bunny being that had joined her head. Vanny decided to start off like all exchanges do: with names.

“So...Do you...have a name besides Glitchtrap?” Vanny asked. “Or something less mysterious than…’Malhare’?” Vanny asked, using quotations.

The being turned to her with a tired, bored face. “...Afton.” He replied.

Afton? Wait...Why did that name sound strangely familiar?

“Is that...a first name? Or a last name?” Vanny asked.

The bunny groaned and got up. “William. William Afton. Happy?” they spat at her.

Vanny raised her eyebrows. This person’s got quite the attitude. They sound pissed...over a need for a name. “Yes, thank you.” Vanny shot back.

The being looked at her before looking away.

“Are...Are you gonna ask me for a name? Or am I supposed to just give you a name?” Vanny asked.

The guy...William...looked at her from the corner of their eye and looked back down again. “You’re a teenage girl. That’s all I need to know.” the person said.

Vanny sighed and sat down on the ground. “Great...I’m expected to live with THIS-” She pointed to the bunny in front of her, “-For the rest of my life.” Vanny muttered out loud.

The bunny sighed. “Life isn’t fair, sunshine.” They muttered.

Vanny widened her eyes and turned to the bunny with a frown. “Excuse me?!” she walked right up to the bunny and pushed them down with her foot. “Just who do you think you are?!”

The bunny looked up at her with a frown. Then, they scoffed. “Try looking up my name. That’ll give you a pretty good idea.” they spat with a dangerous look in their eyes. Vanny growled and left her mind.

Vanny opened her eyes and hopped onto her phone. She typed the name ‘William Afftin’ into the search bar.

[A-f-t-o-n. AfTON.] the bunny corrected.

Vanny sighed and fixed the name. ‘William Afton’. She clicked the search button and watched as tons of links showed up right away. Tons of links about ‘child killer’, ‘The Man Behind The Slaughter’ and ‘Fazbear Entertainment’ came up. Vanny’s expression turned from annoyed to surprised in a single second. Child killer? Child killer?

She clicked one of the links. This brought up pictures of happy kids, and blurred images of their corpses beside the happy images. They were mostly aged 5 to age 10! Names of previously missing children filled her brain as she read them: Charlie...Cassidy...Fritz...Gabriel...Jeremy… And Susie.

[They were interesting kids. Somewhat ignored by the adults there. No one even noticed they went missing until they got home. Stupid people…] The bunny told her.

Vanny widened her eyes. Holy...How did he-

Vanny scrolled down and looked at the other pictures that came up. There were photos taken of...suits?

[Animatronics. Big robots with endoskeletons and programming designed for anything you want. In this instance, they were disguised as animals and made for kids entertainment. We were the talk of the town at the time! Freddy Fazbear and the Band. Kids loved it.] The bunny explained.

Freddy Fazbear- WAIT A SECOND! “That VR Video Game was based on real life?!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. That game itself was Fazbear Entertainment’s way of saving their tarnished reputation of child-killing machines. Every entertainment spot the Fazbear company opened, ended up with at least one child or person killed from robot malfunctions.] The bunny explained.

Vanny frowned as she looked at the missing kids. “It wasn’t just robot malfunctions...It was murders too.” Vanny mentioned. “You were the cause of those murders! You killed up to 5 children!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. Indeed I did.] The bunny replied.

Vanny huffed as she put her phone down and went into her head again. “Why?” She asked. “Did you know them personally? Why would you specifically choose to kill them?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” The bunny asked as they stood up. “I just did.” they replied.

Vanny looked at the bunny. “You’re not a bunny. I wanna see what you really look like.” Vanny told them.

William sighed and closed their eyes. “There’s plenty of images on the World Wide Web to give you a good picture.” they told her.

“I don’t want to use the internet. I wanna see you. The real you.” She told them. “That is, if your former self was programmed into your code.” Vanny mentioned.

William rolled his eyes. “I have no former self anymore. This is it. I’m a glitch shown as a bunny.” William explained.

“You know technology has advanced enough to change your appearance, right?” Vanny mentioned.

William gave her a dirty look. “Well maybe,” William walked closer to Vanny. “Someone didn’t put that into account when programming me into the fucking game!” William spat at her. Then, he leaned his head back a bit. “I’m afraid this is as close as you’re gonna get.” William turned around and walked away.

Vanny let out heavy breaths as she processed the words hidden under his overwhelmingly rude attitude. Despite not actually being responsible for how William’s brain and personality was handled, Vanny still felt hurt by his words. This man, who was once a physical being, is now stuck inside a girl’s head. Even worse: a teenage girl’s head.

Vanny closed her eyes and frowned as she looked at him. “Why…”

William hummed and tilted his head as he looked at pictures hidden in her head.

“Why choose me...of all people?” Vanessa asked.

William smiled a little at that question. He turned around and looked at her with purple, glowing eyes. “Because your curiosities can lead you down a really dark path if you let it.” William told her. “...And maybe I can help you with that.” William offered.

Vanny widened her eyes and stared at the bunny in both horror and awe.

William chuckled at her reaction. “The internet has offered you endless chances to satisfy your curiosities and yet…” William looked at their own hand. “You stop yourself.”

Vanny bit her lip and lifted her head up. “W-Well...that kind of job takes a lot of work to clean and cover up.” Vanny admitted. “And I don’t want the police finding out about my internet searches. They could see me as a suspect.” She added.

William chuckled at the last part. “There are always incognito modes.” William reminded her. “And as a guy who’s been there and done that, I will help you through all the steps. But only if you agree…” William offered.

Vanny’s awe-struck face shrunk down as she backed away. No...No she shouldn’t! She’s worked this hard trying to make a life for herself! She can’t ruin that now!

William hummed and waved their index finger. “Mmm...there’s that doubt. There’s the part of you that’s trying to return back to normal life.” William pointed out. “But that normalcy will not satisfy that instinct inside you. I’ve tried. Eventually, it found a crack and broke right through it. You’ll be better off starting early than spending your life trying to hide it. After all: Therapy always teaches you to let it out rather than shove it inside you.” William explained.

Vanny considered correcting him, but realised that he was still staying true to the facts. So, she let him talk more.

William walked closer to Vanny and gave her a charming, yet sadistic kind of smile. “You and I have something special in common: you and I both wanted to know things only the dark part of the web could provide you.” William said. “I’ve already answered all my curiosities. But you...You’re waiting to get your full answers. The world tells you to stay true to the law...yet your instincts tell you otherwise...” William explained. He started taking steps back.

“Besides: you gotta remember that everyone only has one life. It’s why I’ve been prolonging my life for as long as I have!” William explained. He spun himself around, sprinted up to Vanny and grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me! I’m in my triple digits now! I should be long dead! But I’m not! I’ve cheated death!” William declared with genuine excitement. “And now I have a chance to restart my killing spree...with a new body, and a loyal partner...something I lacked the first time.” William said eagerly.

Vanny smiled at the thought.

“So:” William held out his hand. “Will you be my new partner in crime?” William asked.

Vanny’s smile grew. It was a hard offer to resist. She’s been wanting to do this for so long. And now, she actually has the chance! Finally, after some thought, Vanny nodded and shook his hand. “I’d love to.” Vanny replied.

The two of them spent some time determining their action plans. With just a few google searches, William and Vanny were able to find a new Fazbear Mall that was opening up. And as luck would have it, they were hiring! So, Vanny pulled up her resume. With William’s previous business experience, he helped her sort out her slightly jumbled resume and cover letter. Before they knew it, the resume and the cover letter was sent to the business email. Now, all they had to do was wait.

While they waited, Vanny snuck back into her brain and looked at the bunny with curious eyes. “So...William Afton.” Vanny walked up and poked his shoulder. “What’s your little secret?” She asked.

William looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean ‘secret’?” William clarified.

“My deep secret is that I like really dark things. And I know you do too. But do you have another little secret you’d like to share?” Vanny asked.

William raised their eyebrows and smiled a little. “Like I’d ever share any secrets with you…”

Vanny frowned a bit. “Well, it’s only fair.” She told them. “Plus: we’re living with each other. I gotta know at least a few things about you.” She continued. “And specifically you...not just your history.”

William raised an eyebrow. The bunny had to admit she was stubborn. “Well...Okay.” William took a moment to think. “I was a father of three kids...all who I’ve outlived because… circumstances…” William admitted with a chuckle.

Vanny looked down with wide eyes. “Yyyyup...may or may not have found that within your history search.” Vanny admitted awkwardly.

William let out a laugh. “Wow! Okay.”

Vanny walked up to him. “Did you ever get tattoos when you were younger?” Vanny asked, grabbing his arm and looking at it.

William widened his eyes. “Uuuuuuhhh-” William pulled his arm out of her grip. “No. Even if I did, you’re not gonna see it on me now.” William mentioned.

Vanny looked down at the middle of his bunny tummy and gasped. “Look!” Vanny poked a visible light green little circle. “You have a bunny belly button!” she cooed.

William yelped and doubled over, wrapping both his arms around his belly. “HEY! No touching.” William warned.

Vanny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Why? You ticklish?” Vanny asked. “Is de bunny wabbit ticklish?” Vanny teased as she tried to poke his belly.

“No!” William yelled back, slapping her hands away. “And stop that! I am a grown man!” William yelled at her.

“Hmmm…” Vanny leaned over and stared at the bunny’s side while poking it a couple times. “Maybe a grown bunny…” She gave the belly a squeeze. William shrieked and slapped her arm away. “But a grown man?! There’s NO way!” Vanny teased, sticking her tongue out.

William growled. “Bite me!” he shouted with visible teeth.

Vanny stared at him with starry eyes. Even though William was trying to scare her into stopping, his bunny image didn’t help him at all. If anything, it just made things worse! Vanny giggled and snorted at his attempts to frighten her. Lastly: Vanny brought her index finger up to William’s nose and…

*Beep!*

William squeaked and held his nose in surprise and...almost fear. He made his eyes go cross-eyed as he tried to look at his nose, which only added to the cuteness. The moment Vanny let out an excited squeal however, William shot her a glare out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t even THINK about pulling those stupid, childish-” William yelped as his backside was poked.

“OMG! Your back is ticklish too?!” Vanny reacted. William tried to turn around, but was caught by one of Vanny’s arms around his shoulders. With her free hand, Vanny started crawling her fingers slowly up his back. William’s eyes widened almost immediately as his lips formed a wobbly and crooked smile.

“Oooooh! I see it’s not just your spine…” Vanny started scratching the back ribs. “The sides of your back are ticklish too!” Vanny reacted.

William let out a muffled yelp and shook his head. “SSSTAHAP-!” He yelled at her.

“OH! I’m close! I’m cracking your wall down!” Vanny teased excitedly.

Then, Vanny moved one hand up to the rabbit ears. “I wonder…” She started tickling the inner ear just as a small test. The moment William moved his rabbit ear away and wheezed, Vanny IMMEDIATELY covered his ears with tickles! It was so hard to resist not going for it, when the perfect opportunity had come up!

Now Vanny was tickling his ears menacingly and listening to every laugh, squeak, titter and giggle that left his mouth. It had actually surprised William just how well the programming managed to replicate his laughter as well! Things have REALLY changed since he was younger.

“VAHAHANNYHYHY! THAHAHAT’S EHEHENOHOHOUGH!” William tried to tell her.

“Hell no it’s not! We have tons of time! I still have a response to wait for from the Fazbear company that YOU used to work for. So now I’m just quickly waiting! And while I wait…” Vanny started tickling the base of William’s bunny ears. “-I can see just how ticklish you really are!” Vanny declared.

“NOHOHOHO! UHUHUN- AAHAHAHA-! UHUHUNFAHAHAIR!” William yelled at her.

“Oh I KNOW it’s unfair. But wanna know something else that’s unfair?” Vanny asked rhetorically. “Refusing to tell me a secret of yours after you found out about mine!” Vanny replied to her own question. “Now THAT’S unfair! And just downright rude!” Vanny added.

William shook his head, flapping his ears around as she attacked the vulnerable base of his ears. “NAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHE! COHOME OHOHOHON VAHAHAHAHANNY!”

Vanny smirked. “Whaddaya mean ‘come on’? Are you challenging me?” Vanny asked.

William shrieked and turned himself around to get away. Sadly, this just didn’t work. Vanny quickly wrapped her sneaky arm around William’s back and waist, and used her arm to dip him backwards like they had just flashbacked to the 20’s.

William yelped and giggled quite bashfully at this sudden turn of events, but was immediately thrown back into his frustrated frenzy the moment Vanny tickled all over his belly. “NoHO! VANNY! IHIHIHI’LL KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” William threatened as he fell into another hysterical laughing fit.

“Ooooooh! I see…” Vanny said to herself while she poked and prodded at the green circle that highlighted the bunny’s belly button. “You don’t really have a belly button! Just a little green circle that sticks it out from your tummy.” Vanny explained to herself.

“YEHEHES! YOHOHOU HAHAVE YOHOHOUR AHANSWEHER! NOHOW LEHEHET MEHE GOHOHOHO!” William ordered.

Vanny rolled her eyes with a smile and continued to tickle his belly. “Ever heard of manners? Even dogs develop better manners than you!” Vanny teased.

William growled through his laughter and started to push her away. Vanny sighed and stopped tickling his belly. William went limp in her arms as bits of sweat started to fall down the bunny’s face. Was...was that just an overexaggerated emotion?! Or was William actually able to ‘sweat’? “Ohokahay. Can...can you put me down?...pleeeease?” William asked. His attempts to be polite sounded very childish. But, it somewhat worked.

Vanny smiled and laid William back down. “I-Thank you. Though, you didn’t need to lay me- HAHAHA! HEHEHEHEY- YOUSONOFA- EEEEEHEHEHEHEK!” William accidentally interrupted himself. It turns out that Vanny couldn’t resist sneaking a tickle or two onto his ears again.

“No more statements, Giggly Willy. Just a thank you will work well.” Vanny told him as she stopped fully this time.

William grabbed onto his ears and curled up into a little ball on the floor of Vanny’s mind. It was...Quite hilarious to see a tough, put together man doing such a childish move.

“I...Am content with wo-working with you, but…*huff*...C-Could we keep the tickle attacks to a minimum?” William asked.

Vanny hummed as she thought. She finally sighed. “Fine. Once a month.” she told him. “I’ll tickle you once a month.”

William looked up at her and uncurled himself. “Wanna move that to twice a month?” William asked.

Vanny blinked in surprise. “Bi-weekly?! I thought you wanted to keep the tickling to a minimum.” Vanny reacted.

“For-forget that. I don’t mind them.” William admitted casually.

Vanny did everything in her power to not throw her hands in the air and shower him with tickles. But she knew one thing for sure:

Vanny is never letting William live this down!

#vanny is the reluctant follower #william afton is a jerk #vanny is sassy #light angst #mind manipulation #tell me your secrets #ticklefic #ler!vanny #lee!william #william afton is advanced programming now #bickering #pre-fnaf security breach

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kerra-and-company · 3 years ago

Text

For Kerra’s 1st Birthday

So. You know how sometimes we imagine animatics in our heads that we never make? I did that, but I was picturing it in such detail that I wrote it down. I still don’t have the skills to animate or draw it, but I figured it might be a good birthday present for Kerra. :)

I’m a couple weeks or so late (very sorry, Ker!), but I’m counting it as her first birthday present. I’ve been playing this game for over a year now, which isn’t long compared to a lot of you, but I’ve definitely fallen in love with it, and I appreciate the community here on Tumblr, no matter how big it might or might not be. Thanks for a great first year, everyone. Love you guys, seriously <3

(I don’t know if this is going to be something other people are super interested in reading or not, but if you are, go for it--it’s under the cut! :) The song is Dirt Around The Tree by Candi Carpenter, and you can listen to it here or on Spotify if you want. Thanks again, folks. I appreciate you a lot.)

[Introductory music plays over brief intro text. Just before the beginning of the song, the text fades to dense clouds.]

I was born in the fall

[The clouds clear, revealing Caledon. The camera/POV swoops through quickly in the direction of the Grove, with various recognizable places there visible as it does so.]

The season when everything is dying

[Camera continues its swoop. If we look closely, we can see that it’s winter, or at least sometime cool, in Caledon. There’s no snow, but there’s frost, and many trees are missing leaves. Farms and gardens are bare.]

We must know what we're in for

[Camera enters the Grove, skirting past the trunk of the Pale Tree and slowing down by pods of not-yet-awakened sylvari. It settles on one.]

That's why we come into this world crying

[The pod splits open, and Kerra falls out. Nearby sylvari try to help her up, but she scrambles in an uncoordinated fashion to her feet, calling out Caithe’s name.]

My mother always told me life's not fair

[The Pale Tree in the Omphalos Chamber, arms open wide, eyes closed. On the word “life”, the camera cuts to Kerra in “Beneath a Cold Moon”, fighting Tiachren. On “not”, the camera cuts to Kerra standing over bodies, next to Caithe and various Wardens. One of the bodies is Tiachren’s. On “fair”, the camera cuts back to the Omphalos Chamber, but this time to Kerra alone. Caithe and Aife are just barely in the image (their shoulders at most), but the focus is on Kerra’s face—troubled and grieving but not quite crying.]

That's probably why I ran away

[The camera spins back around so that we see Kerra looking at the Pale Tree. This time, she’s flanked by the three sylvari order reps, and Cai—the rep from the Order of Whispers—is holding her hand out. Kerra looks down at it. On “why”, the camera cuts to just their hands, clasped in a handshake. On “ran,” the camera cuts to Kerra and Tybalt on the mission to rescue Demmi. They’ve just opened the door to the room where Demmi was locked up, and Kerra’s holding her hand out to Demmi.]

I don't think that I felt safe at home

[Camera zooms in on Kerra’s hand, going to brush her hair-leaves back. When it zooms back out, we see Kerra sitting next to Rel. They’re on the beaches of the Weeping Isle, and her mouth is open, like she’s saying the song lyrics. She’s more in silhouette here than a clear picture, and the focus is on Rel’s face. His forehead is furrowed as if in concern.]

And I don't think that's ever gonna change…

[Kerra’s face comes into clearer focus, still mouthing the words, but this time she looks straight into the camera for a second. As the camera pans around her head, the landscape behind her changes to an airship. She starts to turn away from the camera on the word “ever”, and by “change”, she’s facing away, and we can see her standing at the front of an airship alongside Destiny’s Edge, flying to confront Zhaitan. Kerra’s wearing a long coat now, brown with just-visible green embroidery, and it flaps in the breeze.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[The image blurs as the camera zooms towards the ground and under it. We see roots, twisting and shifting, twining together.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

[The camera pans up, more slowly this time so the image is clear. We exit the ground, passing through the levels of the Grove, ending on the plaza in the center where the Pale Tree’s leaves spiral up towards the Omphalos Chamber.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[Three images. The first is the Pale Tree, eyes down and half-closed. She looks pained. On “runs”, the image shifts to Caithe, with shiny eyes and a shadowy Faolain behind her, side by side with Trahearne, who’s holding Caladbolg with a gaze that’s both tired and far away. On “family”, the image shifts to Kerra, still in the same outfit from the airship, but with a dark background. Her eyes are wide and unsure.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[The camera zooms out to show two Kerras, now, separated by just enough distance that they’d have to move closer to touch (so maybe a couple meters or so). The first is Kerra as a sapling, in her sylvari armor, and the second is Kerra in her airship outfit. They each look at the camera. On the word “running”, they turn to each other. On “me”, the second Kerra turns away and takes a step away from the first.]

[On the instrumentals, Kerra steps from the black void into the snow, her bow on her back and Felix beside her. She looks worn and tired, her coat torn. She walks from there into a house with Nisha (with a stack of letters), and she smiles. When she leaves the house, her wardrobe changes from brown to blue, and she walks into Southsun, facing Canach and then meeting with him in his cell after. Other images flow after, briefly—her and Dragon’s Watch facing Scarlet, then the party with the nobles, then facing Aerin. Finally, it settles on them all together before the summit, waiting below the Omphalos Chamber for the dignitaries to arrive.]

I read that trauma is genetic

[The camera pans up to the Omphalos Chamber, which is under attack by the Shadow of the Dragon. We focus on the Shadow first as it roars (on the word “trauma”) and bares its teeth, and then we pan to Kerra’s face on “genetic”. She’s terrified—but she’s terrified of what the Shadow means, not that she can’t defeat it.]

Who was the first to hand it down?

[Brief flashes of scenes again. Kerra briefly trying to help her Mother as menders run towards them on “Who”, Kerra-as-Caithe (and Nisha alongside her) watching Wynne’s confession on “first”, Trahearne giving the order to fire on “hand”, and airships falling over Maguuma on “down”.]

Was it my grandpa or his father?

[Kerra, wearing her HoT clothes, standing beside Canach and Caithe to face Mordremoth, the camera fully focusing on him as of the word “grandpa” and leaving them as silhouettes with weapons at his feet.]

You can't ask someone who ain't around

[Kerra running to Trahearne while he’s trapped in Mordremoth’s vines and hanging above the ground, grabbing his hand in hers. On “someone”, the image melts into Kerra holding Caladbolg out in Mordremoth’s mindscape, alone. She’s pointing it at a large seed, and Trahearne’s silhouette is behind her. She’s protecting him. On “ain’t”, Kerra begins to glow purple, and the image fades to brightness and then Mordremoth’s power exploding through the jungle, like the cutscene in canon, implying his death.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[Again, like before in the first iteration of the chorus, the camera blurs as we zoom down to roots, shifting and intertwining, but this time we can see clearly that they’re growing, too.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

[Again, we pan through the levels of the Grove to reach the centerpoint with the spiral branches and leaves of the Pale Tree.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[And again, we have the three sets of images, but they’re slightly different. The Pale Tree is dimmer, clearly wounded and in pain even if the wounds themselves are not visible. The shadow of Faolain looks like the Mordrem version of her, and Caladbolg is shattered. Kerra’s in her HoT outfit now, with nicks in a few of her leaves. She’s not much different physically, but something in her expression makes her look older.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[And last but not least for repeats, we enter the blank void again, but there are three Kerras this time—sapling-Kerra, Zhaitan-Kerra, and HoT-Kerra. They all start off looking at the camera. On “running”, sapling-Kerra and Zhaitan-Kerra look at HoT-Kerra, and she looks back at them. On “me”, she turns and takes a step away from them.]

[Instrumentals follow, and the steps turn into a full-on run as she crashes into Canach and Nisha’s arms, laughing. Her outfit switches to her LWS3 one as she swings from their arms to Tarir, watching Aurene hatch and pulling her close. Caithe is in that image too, awe and faint affection on her face. As the deeper strings are overrun with lighter notes, a few scenes flicker by—Lazarus awakening, the battle with Caudecus, Balthazar’s reveal. The strings reach a high note as Kerra is shown on the airship to Elona, her clothes changing again to those she wears in PoF. Vlast’s death is shown, a bright light and Balthazar and crystals, followed by Kerra in Kesho and then a flash of her traversing the desert on her raptor. The notes begin to downswing into the bridge as the battle on the mountaintop comes into focus, Kerra fighting Balthazar hand-to-hand with Caladbolg, and on the final few notes, we see him slash down at her where she’s lying, barely breathing, on the ground. There’s darkness, and on the last note, she opens her eyes in the Domain of the Lost. They’re red.]

I wanna be more than a lost little girl

[Spirit-Kerra takes a step forward. She picks her bow up off the ground on “be”, meeting Nenah’s eyes as her guide gestures towards a hill. Glowing blue silhouettes of memories are visible in the distance, but only just barely. On “lost”, we see the full image of Kerra looking towards the hill, determined.]

I'm gonna grow up someday

[The camera shows Kerra climbing the mountain, past various memory images. Some we’ve seen in the video, some we haven’t. In the last image, right on/after the word “someday”, we can see Caladbolg at Kerra’s side.]

Maybe I'll plant another family tree

[Kerra pauses at a memory of her with her partners. It’s not one we’ve seen before, but they’re all smiling at something or someone the memory doesn’t show. Canach’s arm is around Kerra’s waist, Nisha’s is around her shoulder, and she’s holding them both. On “another”, she reaches out as if to touch it but stops just before she does.]

Somewhere far, far away

[Kerra continues and reaches the top of the mountain. The memory there is Aurene, still very much a baby, desperately trying to protect Kerra, and then being wrapped in chains. She looks at the image for a few seconds, blue light giving her face an eerie cast, before grasping Caladbolg’s hilt and nearly leaping down the mountain on “away”.]

[As the music upswings to the final chorus/verse, Kerra bows to the Judge, slashes through the Eater of Souls, and rushes past a very irritated Joko into the portal back to Tyria.]

Far from the root of all my guilt and anger

[The light from the portal fades into a cloudless sky and a vast desert. On “guilt”, the camera pans over to the mountain where Kerra fought Balthazar. Wisps of smoke still come from it, but they’re faint. We can see figures on the mountain, but not well enough to determine features (though if you’ve played PoF you could guess who most of them are).]

Blood in the dirt and on the leaves

[The words describe what we’re seeing. Kerra’s blood is on the sandy dirt of the mountaintop, and it’s splattered in specks on her hair-leaves and face.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[On “Tell”, Kerra opens her eyes wide. They’re faint purple, as they should be. On “me” she sits up straight, gasping. As the rest of the phrase plays out, we see what she is seeing as her gaze tracks across her friends. Kasmeer, Rytlock…Canach and Nisha. Kasmeer has a tentative but disbelieving smile on her face. Rytlock looks very much like “what the fuck”.]

Am I who I'm supposed to be?

[There’s a beat while Kerra stares at Canach and Nisha and they stare back at her, but on “supposed”, her partners reach their hands out to her. She looks back at them, wide-eyed, like she’s about to cry.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[On the musical downswing, the image fades into current Kerra in the blank void. Just her, no one else. She’s sitting on the ground, in clothing that’s damaged and burned, with too-bright eyes.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[There’s six Kerras in total now, in a line as they’ve been in the previous choruses, but all but the first and the last fade into the background on “me”, leaving just sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra to stare at each other across the distance of the blank void. Both sitting, both very different. The distance is much larger than a meter.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[The three picture sets flash, but this time they’re interspersed with Canach and Nisha moving towards Kerra, and they’re different now. On “Heart-”, the image of the Pale Tree is of her with the Menders, giving them a faint smile. On “break”, we see Canach and Nisha taking a step forward. On “runs”, we see Caithe holding a tiny Aurene in her arms, and they both look overjoyed. Trahearne no longer has Caladbolg and his face is scarred to look half-Mordrem, but he’s standing next to Rel, who’s laughing as he kisses the back of Trahearne’s hand. On “the”, we fully fade back to the mountaintop, and Canach and Nisha take another step forward before throwing Kerra into their arms. At the end of this line, we see Kerra crying and holding them tight, with Kas wiping her own tears away and Rytlock starting to laugh with unexpected relief.]

Why am I still running from me?

[Slowly, the image fades back into sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra in the void, staring at each other. PoF-Kerra is still crying, but on “me”, she smiles, too.]

[As the final instrumentals play out, both of them stand up. They run toward each other, and they meet in the middle with a tight hug, burying their faces in each other’s shoulder.]

[THE END]

#kerralind #gw2 #happy birthday kerra!!#this song gave me so many her vibes that i came up with a whole animatic that i couldn't draw asdlkfsdf #a very creator vibe i think #and i could say thanks a whole lot more to all of you but seriously: thanks one more time #it's been super nice to get to know you guys and i'm definitely planning on staying :)#my fics #well #kinda; haha #:)#oh also I def should have tagged this with spoilers!! spoilers abound here folks #up to and including pof

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