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to-be-a-dreamer · 2 years ago

Note

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Yes. Yes, I do have an inbox full of asks from the game the other day. However, why would I be a normal person and answer them when I could finish this response from literally ten months ago? (Other than this paragraph and the bit near the end, everything here was written back in June. I cannot even begin to tell you why it never got finished but enjoy I guess)

Okay, perfect so let me tell you guys about a little story called Pearchwood Hollow! It was a mystery/horror original story I wrote in 2019 that I repurposed into a Newsies AU. Obligatory "I have a very loose mental roadmap of how this plot goes at best, and nothing but general vibes and random scenes in mind at worst". This AU is an absolute mess and I have no idea how at least 50% of it goes, which is the exact reason it has never seen the light of day. You can read the concept chapter I wrote if you want; it's not that great but it'll help you get an idea of what this is going to be. (Don't bully me for the characters' names I was 16 and thought I was being quirky) It's formatted kinda weirdly because of the application it was originally written on but luckily I saved a copy to my computer after I deleted the original file.

Anyways, the basic idea:

It's a small town au and our main character is Davey Jacobs, an 18-year-old high school graduate/rising college freshman who lives with his parents and brother, is best friends with Charlie Morris-Larkin and Katherine Pulitzer, and was dating Jack Kelly-Larkin for most of high school. Jack and Charlie are brothers and Charlie is older by like four months because I said so. Davey and Jack broke up a few weeks after graduation because they made plans to go to colleges on opposite sides of the country. They're still friends and it's totally not awkward at all. Nope. Besties for life, those two.

Anywho, if you read the chapter I linked, you already know the mystery that's being set up, but just as a little TLDR: the town Davey and the gang live in is completely and totally normal. Really, it is. (this is not me being sarcastic again, it really is just a regular, boring town in middle-of-nowhere New York)

THE TOWN RIGHT NEXT TO THEM, HOWEVER-

It's called Pearchwood Hollow and it seems perfect, almost too perfect. Davey's been there a few times and everyone he met was super friendly and helpful. The lady at the gas station gave him a free candy bar, the mechanic who helped them out when they got stuck on the side of the road taught Davey how to change a flat tire, and the nice old couple who own the local sandwich shop snuck an extra cookie in his bag. It's a perfect town, full of perfect people who live in perfect houses and go to perfect schools and play in perfect parks and have perfect everything lives.

So why does every single person within a 100-mile radius know the exact same rule: Never, under any circumstances, stay in Pearchwood Hollow overnight

Davey liked to think his parents trusted him. He didn't have a curfew because they know he isn't interested in staying out late and getting into trouble. He was allowed to go anywhere in town as long as he gave them a general idea of when he would be home. He had his own job and his parents allowed him to do whatever he wanted with his salary, knowing that he always puts half into his savings account and made sure his phone bill was paid before spending anything on himself.

Yes, Esther and Mayer Jacobs trusted their oldest son, he had never given them any reason not to, after all. But Davey had never in his life gone longer than a week without being strictly reminded "never go to the Hollow".

No one knew where the rule came from, not even the oldest people in town. As far as Davey could tell, the fear of Pearchwood Hollow went back at least six generations and for seemingly no reason. Every once in a while, a couple of local kids would go to the Hollow with the intention of staying the night, but they always chickened out before sunset. No one had ever spent the night except for the people who lived there, all of whom usually laughed off the rumors or seemed genuinely clueless about them.

Davey was curious of course, everyone was, but he figured if so many people were afraid of the Hollow there must be a good reason. He would not be known as the fool who went poking around in places he shouldn't have and ended up becoming the answer to the mystery.

Which brings us to the beginning of the Actual Plot:

The opening scene is Davey packing for college while Les helps him and whines the whole time about being left behind. He's fine, just dramatic. Davey insists that he'll love being the only kid in the house and getting all of their parents' attention. Just in case though, Davey promises to leave his favorite denim jacket for Les to wear while he's gone and Les gives Davey his favorite friendship bracelet that he made at camp.

Anyways, Les has to leave the room for something, and, while Davey's shifting boxes around and trying to figure out how to pack his whole life into one tiny little dorm room, he finds an envelope behind his desk. It's covered in a thin layer of dust, a bit crumpled, still sealed shut, and reads "To Davey" on the front in neat, loopy handwriting.

Of course, he opens it and finds a letter from someone telling him that they've always wanted to know what was wrong with the Hollow. That they couldn't take it anymore and were going to find out what the rumors were about, once and for all. They told Davey they were planning on staying for one hour past sundown and to expect them home before dinner if all went well.

That much was already weird enough, but there were details in the letter than didn't make sense. First of all, there was the fact that Davey doesn't know anyone named "Sarah", and she kept speaking about him, Les, and their parents as if she were close to their family. Extremely close. Then she asked him not to tell Katherine where she'd gone until she got back, again, as if she were close with Davey's best friend. She called him D, an old nickname his family used when he was a little kid. Other small things like that.

Davey is completely and utterly confused, so, naturally, he goes to his two best friends to make them confused with him (one of which is his ex's brother and the other of which is his ex's ex. This is normal.)

Davey, Kath, and Charlie are, individually, incredibly smart individuals, so you would think that between the three of them, they could figure out a reasonable plan of action. However, their first working plan is to just. Go to the Hollow and see what happens. They don't stay overnight, they go during the middle of the day just to see if anything about it has changed since the last time any of them went.

There's a chapter or two of the gang driving around, looking at the old, decrepit town, a far cry from what they all remember. All of the buildings are falling apart and overgrown with plants. The road is full of potholes and cracks and looks as if it hasn't been tended to in decades, maybe even centuries. Davey's pretty sure he doesn't see a single animal in the entire town. It's only been six months since one of them was here, so they have no idea how it looked so bad.

They ask around a bit to try and learn what happened, or even if anyone knows a girl named Sarah, but every person they try to talk to just yells at them to get out before they get "claimed", whatever that means. Even the nice little sandwich shop that Davey remembers has basically crumbled into a giant pile of rubble and the man at the counter glares so harshly as they enter that they turn right around and go back to the car.

It's weird and creepy, nothing like they remember about the Hollow, so they leave a lot sooner than they originally planned. This chapter(s) ends with the three of them encountering Jack on the road out of the Hollow.

He's absolutely furious for a few reasons. First for going to the Hollow without telling anyone (Katherine could have sworn she sent Darcy a text right as they crossed into the town limits). Second for not answering their phones when literally everyone has been trying to find them (Davey couldn't remember his phone going off at all while they were in the Hollow, but when he checks he does in fact have several missed calls and texts from his parents and his friends). Third for turning off their location-sharing so that Medda and Jack couldn't even figure out where Charlie was (Charlie had barely touched his phone all day, but when he pulls it out to prove it, sure enough, his location-sharing is off.) I also think that it's been at least an hour longer than the trio thought, but I'm not sure if they would realize that now.

And so they have no choice but to tell Jack what's going on, to show him the letter and explain their "plan". He understands, he probably would have done the same thing, but he's hurt that they couldn't bother to tell him. He knows that things have been a bit awkward since the breakup but they're still his best friends and Charlie should have had the sense to at least tell his family what he was up to instead of scaring them half to death by practically falling off the face of the earth for four hours.

I have no idea how long this confrontation lasts, but by the end of it everyone has more or less made up, and now Jack is in on the goal to figure out the mystery. I told you there is no plan for this, I barely know what's going on at this point.

Here's the kicker: when Jack asks if they at least learned anything useful on their little field trip, Davey, Kath, and Charlie all say "no". They tell him that everything was just as perfect and idyllic as always, everyone was nice and welcoming and nothing weird was going on. They're not lying. The reader knows all of Davey's thoughts and memories in this moment and, as he recalls them, they are drastically different from what the reader knows to be true.

This is when we discover what the characters won't for a long time: the Hollow affects your memories. As long as you leave before sunset, the memories you made during your time in the Hollow are replaced by new ones. Fake ones. Memories of colorful houses with blossoming front gardens, of cheerful diners and mom-and-pop shops, of friendly townsfolk with genuine smiles and happy lives. Our narrator has forgotten four whole hours of his life and doesn't even realize it. What else don't we know about this story?

Wasn't sure where to add this, but I think something would happen in the Hollow that left a physical mark. Like, the car got scratched, someone skins their knee or gets a small cut on their arm, or someone drops a book in a puddle of water which leaves the ink bleeding and the pages warped. Something physical that can't easily be fixed, but could easily be forgotten for a little while. Jack asks what happened and the trio realizes that none of them knows. It's a big enough mark that they definitely should have noticed as soon as it happened, but none of them did. Or, at least, none of them remember if they did.

Also, at some point, we would meet Finch, Albert, and Spot, three best friends in the grade below our main characters who sometimes just kinda show up and are Also There. If Davey and the gang thought really hard about it, they wouldn't be able to remember where or how they met the three younger kids. And if Finch, Albert, and Spot thought really hard about it, they wouldn't be able to remember where or how they met each other.

Here's where the plot gets a little muddy and I start to lose my grip on the steering wheel. Or maybe my navigation system just shorted out idk it's less of an outline and more of a wishlist after this point:

So our new Buzzfeed Unsolved gang consists of Jack Kelly, his older brother of four months, his ex-girlfriend, and his ex-boyfriend. Someone book them a weekly timeslot on the History Channel.

They eventually decided that the best thing they can do is just research the Hollow and see if they can figure out why there are so many warnings about a seemingly-normal place. They don't find much, people have been searching for answers about the Hollow for over a century and never found anything. Finally, Katherine manages to find one newspaper article from the late 1800s, early 1900s. (It might be a little on-the-nose to say it's from 1899, but that's around the time period, I didn't even do that on purpose). According to the article, there was some kind of tragedy that killed every person in Pearchwood Hollow. I haven't 100% decided what happened, but my top 3 options are: blizzard, massive flood/tropical storm, or mysterious illness. I think I'm leaning towards blizzard just for simplicity's sake, but the illness one would be easy to explain why it didn't affect any of the surrounding towns. It's really not important, all you need to know is that everyone in town died, and the article states that no one has any plans to rebuild or repopulate.

Then the exact same newspaper released another article a week later, talking about a new school opening in Pearchwood Hollow to help with the large population increase over the past few years.

This is when the gang starts to revisit the weird stuff that happened when they went into the Hollow. Their phones seemingly not working, time moving differently, and the physical mark that I mentioned earlier. With this, in addition to the news articles and the letter from Sarah, there's only one logical conclusion to come to: the Hollow affects your memories.

Okay so maybe it's not exactly a logical conclusion and they definitely argue about it for a while, but it's the best explanation anyone has. But if the theory is true, that means there's no way of learning what's going on. Not unless they stay in the Hollow overnight.

Again, I have absolutely how the plot progresses to this, it just Does, alright? So yeah, the gang decides to just stick it out and stay in the Hollow overnight. How do they decide on this? Absolutely no idea but it happens and we're going with it, it's important to the plot.

Now this is really where I have no idea what happens beyond really vague ideas so just bear with me:

The gang goes to the Hollow and it's the same as the last time (the time the reader remembers), the run-down buildings, the horrible roads, the weird townsfolk, everything. Except this time, as soon as the sun sets, it's like a switch flips in everyone's heads and they suddenly remember that this is how Pearchwood Hollow has always been. Every single time, they had had the same awful experience, their memories were just replaced after they left. It's fascinating and terrifying all the same, but they move on to the next part of the plan, which is to find Sarah.

Which they do. Somehow. Don't ask questions, I don't have answers. They find Sarah and, again, a switch flips and suddenly they all remember her. She's Davey's twin sister, Jack's best friend, and Katherine's girlfriend of two years. It's very emotional, very sad, many tears. I'm so good at descriptions.

This is when the pieces all start to fall into place for both the reader and the characters. Sarah left the note for Davey about a week or two before the story started, went into the Hollow, stayed after dark, got trapped, and everyone in the outside world forgot she existed. Every physical and digital trace of her disappeared, except for the letter. As Sarah keeps explaining, they learn dozens, if not hundreds of people get stuck in the Hollow every single year. And then the world just... forgets them. People they knew, people they were friends with, maybe even people they loved. All gone.

Sarah doesn't know why, no one in the Hollow does. They still age and die as normal, so this has been going on for over six generations just like in the outside world. The town is pretty run down after a century of not being able to call for outside help or materials, but they don't really need to sleep or eat or drink like they should, so the lack of safe housing or good food or clean water isn't really a problem. The Hollow is basically a weird little pocket dimension and the people inside are somewhere between dead and alive. They just live out the rest of their lives wandering aimlessly in their odd little prison, making tentative friendships that don't mean all that much, and scaring off any visitors so they don't get trapped as well.

Davey, Katherine, Charlie, and Jack aren't technically stuck yet. They could still leave, but they'd forget everything again. They aren't really trapped until they get "claimed", which, according to Sarah, should be happening any minute so they really needed to get going. They argue this, of course, saying they won't leave without her and she insists that she can't leave, that she's tried and everyone else in Pearchwood has tried, but there's no way out after you get claimed.

They're arguing about this for a few minutes and then they hear a voice calling out from the other room. Asking Sarah who she was talking to. Then the final switch flips and they remember Race. And Davey can't feel any emotion besides horror as the boy freezes in the doorway. This is Jack and Charlie's little brother and, if Davey's memory isn't failing him again, he's been gone for over a year. And all that time, while he was stuck in this horrible limbo, they were just living their lives as if nothing had happened

Okay, so this is where I stopped writing back in June because couldn't think of an ending. We're picking this up about ten months later so apologies if there's any continuity errors after this

For the sake of getting this finished so it doesn't sit in my drafts for another ten months, we're gonna speedrun our way through what is technically the climax of the entire story, just deal with it. In case you haven't noticed I love creating situations for my little guys but I'm so bad at getting them out of said situations

Basically, Pearchwood Hollow is the way that it is because back in 1899, when the whole town was destroyed, there actually was one survivor. It doesn't really matter who it was. Maybe the mayor, maybe a poor farmer, maybe a small child. Who they are isn't important. What's important is that they were scared, lonely, and so very desperate.

Desperation is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. It makes you vulnerable.

They made a deal with something. Maybe they thought it was an angel. Maybe they knew it was a demon. Maybe they didn't care either way.

The demon couldn't bring everyone back, but it could bring others in. It promised that if the person could get people to stay in the town just until sunset, the demon would make sure they were never lonely again. It could give them a community, a family again.

Desperation is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. It makes you vulnerable. It makes you irrational. It prevents you from remembering all the warnings passed down from generation to generation about reading the fine print before accepting a deal from a demon. They never give you what you think you're asking for in the first draft.

At the time of our story, the original person who made the deal is long dead. But the demon will never break its oath, not as long as there are still people in the Hollow.

Demons gain their power from soul sacrifices. Technically, there's a specific ritual a human must complete of their own volition before the demon can stake their claim, but every rule has a loophole. Willingly entering a demon's earthly domain past nightfall despite warnings to keep away? Close enough to a ritual sacrifice for a demon to claim your soul and keep you trapped for the rest of your life.

Anyways, long story short but Davey and Co meet the demon and somehow don't ask questions Davey convinces it to take only his soul in exchange for letting the rest of his friends go, including Sarah and Race. I'm thinking the reasoning is because souls that are willingly sacrificed by someone who fully and completely understands the meaning of said sacrifice are ten times more powerful than souls that are forcibly stolen using a shaky-at-best loophole.

Desperation is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. It makes you vulnerable. It makes you irrational. It makes you impulsive. It tricks you into thinking you've outsmarted your opponent when both of you know the game was over before it even started.

Jack and the others try to talk him out of it. Davey insists that this is the only way and at least most of them should be able to go home. They won't remember him anyways so they won't have to mourn. Before any of the others can try to offer themselves up instead, the demon snaps its fingers and suddenly the reader is sent back to the opening scene.

Davey is in his room packing for college. Sarah comes in to try and steal some of his sweaters to take with her to her own university just two hours away from Davey's. They bicker like all siblings do, like they always have.

They meet Charlie, Katherine, and Jack for lunch at Jacobi's later that day. Sarah greets her girlfriend with a sweet kiss and Davey slips under Jack's arm like it was the only place in the world he belonged. None of them mention the Hollow. The thought of the place doesn't even cross Davey's mind.

Jack leaves early to pick Race up from work, grumbling lightheartedly about how his annoying kid brother should hitch a ride with his friends instead of bugging him all the time. Davey rolls his eyes, knowing his boyfriend is eager to soak up every second left at home with Race before Jack and Davey move across the country to go to college together.

Davey does not find a dusty envelope behind his desk.

Esther and Meyer shed several tears the day they drop Davey and Sarah off at college, mentioning how quiet the house will be with only the two of them living in it

If he thought long and hard about it, Davey wouldn't be able to remember why he left his favorite denim jacket at home.

If anyone asked, Davey wouldn't be able to recall who gave him the handmade friendship bracelet he always had on his wrist.

And if anyone asked, David Jacobs would say he has only one sibling, his twin sister Sarah.

Always read the fine print before making a deal with a demon. They never give you what you think you're asking for.

#my goodness this au is such a mess #but it's super fun! and i would love to do something with it one day!#however i need it to Exist in some capacity first so here we go #the original story version of this has actually been developed a lot since i first started writing this au #like it is completely unrecognizable from that concept chapter i love it so much #might post about it some day who knows #until then enjoy your regularly scheduled half-baked newsies angst #cam i meant to answer your song ask today but i got sidetracked mb #hope this makes up for it :D #newsies #livesies #newsies live #newsies au #newsies fanfiction #david jacobs #thank you thank you for the ask #milk and ilk #saf writes #saf's fic concepts

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nightskyfoxyy · 4 months ago

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Turns out snapping turtles are super hard to draw. Oh well

(Extremely lose "lore" thoughts in tags i guess lol)

#lo rambles #ok i'll try to make sense of this #100% would have benefited from doing some studies on turtles but alas. i have a day job #and i wanted to get it done #anyway snapping turtles kinda freak me out with that SUPER sharp beak and all. i think thatd work pretty nicely #for strag the design is rather straightforward #i distinctly remember thinking the hair was straight up just stylized locs so thats what i went for #i thiiiink there was something with the underneaths' culture around mushrooms/molds too?#i thought itd be fun if thats what gives it the colour. different strands of fungi/molds and all #also some more scars cause i am pretty sure i remember his job being described as the most dangerous one out there #so it only makes sense #might have to make another post to really show that off if theres interest but yes #overall battlescars #blinded in the right eye cause why not thats always interesting and fun to see someone adapt to #especially someone who fights a lot #yea i think thats kinda all #mightve been the first ever blorbo i loved that shit when i was 6. a lot #i dunno how to tag this dont look at me #magi nation #strag

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goldensunset · 1 year ago

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surprise art attack!!! here’s @deityofhearts ‘s cashmere, everyone’s favorite whimsical tiefling

#pose taken directly from the kikuomiku4 album cover bc i’ve been listening to UFO on repeat for idk how many days now #finally gave me the inspiration i needed to do something like this it’s like both sad and super whimsical #actually tbh it gives me more wishful vibes now that i think about it but 1. idk what wishful looks like and 2. cashmere design my beloved #kikuo just in general has a lot of whimsysad and/or fundark which is why i love him #tbh ufo has quickly shot up to one of my fave songs it’s the iconic accordion and the tempo being unstable in places #uh anyway ignore me being a kikuo nerd again #wahhh this was fun to work on it has consumed me these past three days #jumping up and down hehehehehe #glad i finally cut to the ‘it’s done *collapses*’ stage of the arting process bc i’ve been having trouble finishing pieces lately #man i WISH i could come up with poses this good on my own. idc i’m still proud of this #my art #ok yeah i just got the time total. 12 hours #i knew it would be a long time but i didn’t think that long #tbh a lot of that was spent inefficiently bc i kept having to resize the image up when i realized the pixels were too crunchy #and when you make an image bigger the lines get blurry so then you have to redo them. yeah i had to do that TWICE. like a dummy.#12 hours used to be like par for the course for me but i’ve finally gotten faster. or maybe i’ve just stopped doing as many full figures #lol

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tsuchinokoroyale · 1 year ago

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It’s so good to see you.

Lies of P (2023)

#I finished lying and penising for the last time…#I got the game for my PS5 after 100%ing it on game pass bc I was so impressed and obsessed I needed to get a physical copy #so I obviously had to 100% it again and I hilariously forgot to read a letter to unlock an achievement #so I had to play the game a FOURTH TIME since you only get the letter at the end and restarting the game wipes all letters from your bag #but that let me do something I LOVE doing with these shorter games #which is putting the effort to give these characters the best endings their quests allow #so I can leave the characters in the world with as much peace as I can #I also did this in majora’s mask with my final run of the game being about doing every single side quest I could and beating ever boss #so that termina would be as peaceful as it would be once the mask was destroyed and skull kid freed #that being said wearing the alidoro mask led to an unintentionally hilarious semi final cutscene #a tear is supposed to roll down your face at one point but instead it was just a completely still super close shot of the dog mask #and I burst out laughing like nooooooo #luckily I’ve scene the ending like 3 times already but can you imagine if that was the only time I’d seen it 😂#I one rounded nameless puppet this time I truly felt like a god I’m so grateful for neowiz for making this game its been so fun #even after beating it like 7 times I know I’ll be playing it again one day and I’m gonna be a preorder ho for the Lies of series #the DLC and sequel can’t come soon I’m so in love with this game I need to eat it #Lies of P #video games #lies of p sophia #lies of p carlo

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backpackingspace · 3 months ago

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Hey this just in? Ptsd sucks balls

#Oversharing on the internet times #Ptsd #-10/10 don't recommend #Ugh #Need my brain scrubbed and shaken out #I would like a new one please and thank you #I promise I won't let this new one be tortured I'll be extra careful #Love how my subconscious has decided that I'm just the worst person on earth all my dreams lately are like #Hey what if you were monstrous? What I'd you personally committed horrific acts against other human beings?#Let's explore that reality in hd #These aren't even the fun nightmares where I can convince myself I'm not seconds from throwing up they were so bad and can decode them #And do dream work with them #Those nightmares always end up having really cool symbolism and are helpful in deeply deeply meaningful ways #I am willing to suffer those nightmares I have made my peace with them it's like a game almost #These ones just shake me up for fucking days and become a never ending spiraling cycle ugh ugh ugh #It's like my intrusive thoughts were made I to a TV show fuck #Me: slightly rude to my gf #My brain: what if you were the same level as evil as rapist #Me: great I'm going to throw up and claw my skin off and have a panic attack thank you brain that was super fucking helpful #The way that my brain is convinced that I'm evil actually is sure is....#Well. It. It seems like my brain learned to abuse myself that it's doing the work of my torturer for her ten years down the line #Mm. Hate that thought a lot actually going #....I was actually going to keep these tags fairly short I wanted this post to be a vague haha ptsd sure is something post and not #Spill my guts in the tags again but what else is new have done this for years so whatever

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

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love my own like theatrical relationship to shakespeare which is a) being so slow to realize like "oh, i've loved theatre? everyone doesn't just feel this way & go 'of course acting onstage would fucking kick ass' & adore rehearsals and hanging around backstage and in greenrooms and changing and performing & etc?' never really occurred to me" and b) my response to most encounters w/shakespeare being "wha" when it comes to anything granular yet the relevance still in the spirit of things lol

namely one prominent example being i was an on campus college student where said campus has a shakespearean theater literally three blocks away, and we had like a freshmen orientation weekly class there doing shit with actors and checking out the theater, not to mention like punchcards to see four shows free (to write up about afterwards but yeah sure whatever) and this wherein also you always got student discount tickets And there were pwyw performances....kicked ass. i went there for shows so many times. i have never fucking known what tf is going on in any of the like dozen shows i saw there when a) audio processing can be tricky enough for real life modern vernacular parsing and b) sure am not used to ye old very stylized language nor any other qualities of shakespearean material so lots of times when i finally started to kind of acclimate to the language it would be like "oh wait that was the conclusion? ok. hoorayyyyy" like also c) You Have A Great Time Seeing Shakespeare Productions Anyways like again i loved going anytime. it's Theatrical and if people are just putting their damn backs into delivering and performing the material it's An Experience even if you're really not following lmfao. and i suppose one can read the text / familiarize oneself beforehand

also like my first and really one of my only like regular theatre performing experiences was my literature class in fourth grade doing a few scenes from julius caesar. i was so hype for getting cassius like one of the most prominent roles? a guy? an antagonist if you're caesar or dante??? oh Fuck yes. b/c of technical difficulties we got to perform it twice in a row when we did a field trip to some other school to perform our respective [scenes from various shakespeare plays] altogether. even back then i was way into it and cared about stuff like "we have like no Effects to make it that dramatic when we kill caesar. or like, non silent. bit awkward" and "also i like, don't know how to act and am just winging it. and of course, i'm also like 9" like in theory i do like to know How to do something vs trying to make it up myself. somewhat lol. a balance, who can argue w/that

beyond that there's also lots of things i just didn't quite realize "counted" lmfao like, when you're a theatre gay with a parent req'ing you go to church every week but you have a good time being in the choir....i was sure on those tenor harmonies & singing loud. and going relatively often to various live theatrical events, having an engaging enough time there, but also would've assumed anyone would be into it And that that's not really the same as actually being in them, of course. but that most of my firsthand experience was just sticking w/ballet for like a decade, and kind of live theatrical performance adjacency there. don't say shit, for years was effectively just like, an ensemble for the occasional performances, but even then it's like hoorayyy i Love rehearsing and being onstage and backstage and dealing w/costumes and coordination behind the scenes and shit. and eventually being like, a distinct individual character in shows, so despite again nobody saying shit you're still somewhat interpreting and doing whatever character work while also enjoying the bennies of [it's dance, so also it's choreographed]....even more clear like oh i love backstage and rehearsing and behind the scenes and onstage and putting together stage character makeup, and i don't mind tackling technical difficulties, and etc etc. didn't even necessarily have the reference like, idk, wouldn't / doesn't everyone feel similarly. classic ye old memory of like being idfk 7 or some shit simply getting to walk with classmates behind a backdrop to the opposite wing of a stage, and loving that lmao. combines a love for [backstage] and [secret passages] type deal lol, big fan of these elements

also in 7th grade doing a theatre/drama class for a few months and we couldn't really get like all this in depth extensive stuff b/c you know, intro course for like 8 weeks for rando middle schoolers, but idk it was just illustrative lmao like after julius caesar, us slapping together some kind of script and my getting to be this fun little theatrical(tm) antagonist guy again? feedback was "what was supposed to be happening" but could've stood to have learned that the enthusiasm and affinity i felt for acting onstage was perhaps indicative of enthusiasm and affinity for acting onstage rather than just, idk, the exact kind of baseline experience any & everyone would have lol. not that i would've necessarily had the chance to really do anything with that knowledge, but even now, ofc i don't particularly anticipate getting to use it, but it's great having that knowledge like ohhh i see. the entire time i've been huge into doing theatre with all these kind of adjacent & gently overlapping brushes with it. gotcha

#an issue with Figuring Out What I Like or Trying New Things; a) having to be driven everywhere #b) just not safe to be open with ''this is something i like doing''#c) things being worse for like [i like doing this performance i don't like that parents are in the audience / involved]#didn't try out for anything in middle school b/c a) nervous. no experience; it's middle school. i don't have a great time w/Peers.#b) i'd have to let parents know i was doing that / they would then be involved; & see it....puts a real damper on things #didn't try out for anything in college b/c by then it's like. i Really have no experience lmao even if i could do this myself #kind of only deterred by my same age roommate being A Theatre Person with that prior experience lol....#but then Shakespeare Theater Company Proximity & Everyone Getting Introduced Via That Class / another kind of tangential theatre experience #hell yes....thank you for all that you did. dunno what's going on in there but you truly have a great time #even just Readings are fun but again people Gotta put their back into it or it does become like [zzz]#anyways and in this day and age....would still like to have actual acting instruction. all an abstract idea. but i for sure Like To Know.#the Ideas / Knowledge of oneself & like ''oh that's smthing i super like actually'' or what all i'd even theoretically like to do / have...#value in such things. i love to Know i think it would be cool to have like a buttonsy digital / calculator type wristwatch too. e.g.#and for real besides me talking about myself the advice is yeah go to a fun shakespeare production #''knowing what the hell is actually going on'' is Not a priority / requirement. it'll be an enjoyable experience still #oh and i did have an achievement in having A Fan once lol. when i started getting standalone roles vs [class ensemble in the back] at one #point i got to have a cats (jellicle) inspired like purple sparkly arms/legwarmered elaborate facemakeupped role; fun in & of itself #but whomsoever came to this little like middle/highschoolers community production included some absolute randos i encountered in the hall #after whatever show where this like 8 yr old kid's dad was like ''she's your (the role) biggest fan can we get a pic''#like Of Course....so i pose with said kid. hell yeah babey i'm An Actor with A Role lol....fr it was fun so #even illuminating to piece together my affinity / comfort for concepts & zones like things Behind The Scenes / hidden or secret / Nighttime #being backstage or behind the backdrop to get to another wing or hanging out in an effective greenroom w/amicable parties & our roles....#oh and that naturally the abstract concept of acting has just always seemed fun. and not like that strange or difficult #someone talking abt being autistic & learning like ''oh having friends Isn't supposed to feel like you have to constantly be performing?''#like yeah same up til recent history lmao like. lot of ways to simply already have a bit of organic training in acting lol #would still want some more actual training though lol like how do you do this shit Actually....got the essentials in fourth grade (be loud)#fr we didn't have mics of course so it was all just up to us to say our lines loud enough. couldn't actually hear other scenes [pensive]

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mxdotpng · 2 years ago

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the world if tales of games were accessible. i know many of their developers have said if symphonia does good they'll hope for more remakes/remasters but i feel if they actually believed in that then they would have already begun doing that after arise's release and success.

#.text #which is unfortunate because i think this series is super fun and silly and enjoyable and holds onto something many other video games #dont anymore. in that it allows itself to be genuine in its themes and its story while also taking its sillier and more #ridiculous aspects just as seriously. which makes the overall experience better as it isnt constantly making fun of itself and is instead #focused on making the player have the most fun possible.#not to mention i think how they often take cliche tropes and bend them in a way that makes the characters #so interestind and enjoyable. i think thats fun. its Fun. i love it #alas.#i feel also them waiting for anniversaries to release things is so. STUPID.#like i get why they do it. anniversaries very often get more attention than just any other day. but at the same time #considering theyd only be doing one game per year at the most they would be waiting and waiting and WAITING for every game #at a snails pace. when they should be available and accessible NOW.#this is one of those series i feel like has the most potential to become lost and that worries me. just thinking about how much #media and how many games there are that could exist and are like this series that are umplayable. AUGH.#sorry. im normal. video games make me normal

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dragons-and-yellow-roses · 2 months ago

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Why is pulling an all dayer harder than pulling an all nighter

#when i lived in Philadelphia i worked nights-ish #like until 11pm at the latest #but i worked in a high energy place and my roommates were nught owls so we would stay up until like 2am hanging out #then id go play with my rats or be on my laptop while they roamed about my room and that lasted about an hour #and then i just stayed awake until 9am when i had to take out my dog. play with him for like an hour #and then sleep five or less hours before i went to work #it was a horrific schedule btw #one of my old roommates is a sleep scientist and when i explained my sleep schedule to her she said #'it wont kill you in a way youll understand'#which is the most ominous thing I've ever heard and it came from the sweetest cat lady poly lesbian with the nicest girlfriend #since then ive gotten a lot better because my job wants me to work at 11am #so now i sleep midnight to 9am and if i work i generally dont nap because my shift takes up prime napping time #but on days i dont work? gotta nap unless im doing something else #today i went to a coffee shop and then the library for a total of like four hours #i was very productive on things that dont have a deadline and arent super important in the long run but they were fun #and i got to drink two lovely energy drinks that taste like orange dreamsicle #then i went to the library and they have little booths for laptop users with charging ports right in the booths #but i didn't get a nap because i did all that and then played unknown armies #and ive been sleepy the whole day. so why could i stay up all night every night in the past but cant last a day without a nap?#im like a toddler #i miss staying up all night actually. the sunrise is nice. but i cant wake up early enough to see it #i once took my little dog on a sunrise walk and then ordered door dash for a bagel breakfast sandwich and a hot chocolate #what a wonderful day. and then i went to work and that job was pretty fun #and i know that was so bad for me to stay up like that. but i kinda miss it #cuz this staying up all day shit is hard

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onomonopetabread · 8 months ago

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If Instagram has a thousand haters, I am one of them. If Instagram has one hater, it is me. If Instagram has no haters, but very existence has been wiped off this plane of existence

#crumb babbles #i’ve only had this stupid app for like a week to make friends for college #and when it was JUST for that it was so lovely #but then people I actually know starting finding my account and following it #and then I had to follow back because then if i don’t i’m being rude #and anytime someone uploads a story I HAVE to like it or else that’s rude too #and now I just have all of this access to the inside lives of the people around me #which in theory is great #but really it’s just a giant contest to see who has the best life or who’s having the most fun #and i’m a homebody at heart okay?#I’m not one for partying or super grand outings #but I do like being around my friends #and so as is natural of COURSE I would hate seeing my friends hang out without me #like for example #today was senior skip day #i went to school #was a bit sad about it for like two seconds then quickly got over it #but then i go onto Ist*gr*m and I find that everyone went go kart racing #listen I KNEW about the go kart racing beforehand #i was FULLY AWARE that they went go kart racing that whole day #but seeing those videos and pictures was like #oh #there’s that feeling again #i saw something the other day that said that the thing about once being a lonely eleven year old girl is that some part of you #is always going to be a lonely eleven year old girl #and yeah that’s so real #being on Instagram is the media equivalent of an inside joke and I hate that #i dunno man maybe it’s my abandonment issues talking 🤪#tw instagram #instagram tw

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chikoyama · 10 months ago

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chiyori’s fav movies/tv shows/animes:

twilight (movie)

love actually (movie)

howl’s moving castle (anime movie)

train to busan (movie)

card captor sakura (anime)

sailor moon (anime)

beastars (anime)

fruit's basket (anime)

various k-dramas and j-dramas that i haven't watched, lol

#headcanons #if anybody ever wanna watch one or more of these movies together i’m up for it!#or anything from your muses list that’d be fun too #i don’t like love actually but it’d be such a chi kinda thing #i also never watched sailor moon but something tells me chi would be obsessed #i already watched new moon w val c:#tempted to do a movie night/day kinda thing but i’d have to design a super cool invitation and who would even join lol 😞#as my friend once said: fazil you’re not popular enough #well tbf i asked him if he wanted to intentionally start drama to gain influencer popularity lol #and he really had the nerve to tell me he wouldn’t bc i wasn’t popular enough.. yo

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1d1195 · 2 months ago

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Buttercup

~7.8k words

From me: I love a knight in shining armor moment. Grumpy sunshine, black cat and golden retriever kind of vibe. There are definitely some details missing on purpose here. Best of luck. Hope you like it 💕 Sorry for the delay in posting. What a week.

Warnings: dick ex-bf - cheating, emotional trauma, threatening. Angry Harry, neighbor Harry, some mentions of sex, a good bit of angst, and some fluff.

Summary: Harry's new neighbor is fun to prank. She just wants to tend to her garden and enjoy her chocolate in peace.

But it's... comforting to know Harry is right next door.

The boys that lived next door weren’t too loud, weren’t super messy, and they were easy on the eyes.

But that was the furthest she could compliment them.

Well, Louis was really lovely overall. He had a girlfriend that came by frequently (almost daily) and appeared to keep him in check. But there was no one to keep Harry in check. He walked around his yard in his boxers, got the mail in them even, and both greeted his sexual partner(s) then sent her on her way off his property the following morning in nothing but boxers as well.

All with a smug smile in her direction while he wore nothing but underwear and the ink etched on his unbelievably smooth skin.

Stupid hot people.

Regardless of what he was doing, he was always sure to irritate her if she was outside. “Hi Buttercup,” he cooed like they were old friends while she worked in her garden. It was clearly her favorite part of the house. It desperately needed a new coat of paint, and she didn’t care in the slightest. The flowers were more important, and she did a good job. Clearing the flowerbeds happened before all her boxes were officially inside her house.

She thought about the day she arrived.

When she moved in, she took a deep breath, pulled her hair into a ponytail and tugged it through the back of a baseball cap. One by one, she pulled a box out of her car and brought it inside. A storage pod was dropped in the driveway as well and then she began the same process after taking a short break while she looked at what she needed to do first. She leaned against her car and felt anxiety and a serious case of being overwhelmed start to fill her chest. She took deep breaths hoping the sugar she ingested would help ease her worried mind.

“Hey, neighbor!” She turned to the voice where a guy with brown hair and blue eyes smiled brightly at her. “I’m Louis, welcome to our neighborhood. It’s nice to meet you. Need help?”

She shook her head quickly. Almost defensive as she aimed to protect herself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Louis glanced at her storage pod and tilted his head at her curiously. It was a lot to unpack on her own.

Metaphorically and literally.

“You’re sure?” He asked. “My roommate saw you from the window. Thought you were... well, not struggling... But it’s a lot to move for anyone. He’s changing, he’ll be right out to help too,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “My girlfriend was on the phone and overheard Harry, and she insisted as well.”

She thought that he was nice. A friendly neighbor if there ever was one. But the wall of anxiety she put up and the nerve she was feigning to keep up was battling something fierce. “Right,” she cleared her throat. She would need an ally. There was no one in this new town for her and Louis seemed nice.

Levi seemed nice too... she thought.

Shaking her head she tried to rid herself of the negative outlook. Louis wasn’t Levi. “That... that’s really nice. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

Louis’ best friend and roommate Harry soon joined them. Introduced himself and she sincerely thought they were just two nice guys who would be decent neighbors.

The second they dropped the first load of her stuff safely inside Harry began his pranks. “Is this box labeled underwear up for grabs?”

There was no box labeled underwear. She knew that. But it still made her cheeks burn with embarrassment even though Louis rolled his eyes as if was used to it. Which she supposed he was. “Christ, Harry,” Louis sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I’m sorry, love. We don’t let him out of the house much.”

She looked at him with an eye roll. He was cute. She would give him that.

Well, hot.

Enticing green eyes, sinewy muscles, and a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He knew he was hot. There was no way he didn’t. But she wasn’t going to let him get to her.

“Where are y’moving from?” Harry asked.

“Uh...” she shook her head trying to remember what lie she was supposed to say. But then went with most of the truth. “Just upstate, a few hours away. I got a new job and whatnot.”

“New modeling job?”

“Boo...” Louis droned, grumbling as he moved boxes labeled kitchen into the correct room. “If you’re going to embarrass yourself, you could use better material.”

“This is m’best material, Lou,” he scowled at his friend. Her cheeks were still burning at his shameless flirting.

“I know he’s obnoxious, but he’s harmless,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Excuse you, Louis. M’not obnoxious.”

“The shit you say,” he shook his head.

“I jus’ think you’re gorgeous,” his eyelashes did all the flirting for him when his words stopped.

But whether Harry was flirting or not, she didn’t want to flirt with her neighbor. Didn’t want to have a boyfriend. Certainly not one with all the charisma he had around her.

Even if he was flirty and charming.

And hot.

There was no denying how hot Harry was.

So she would have to be careful.

“Looking good, Buttercup.”

She glared at the tulip bulbs she was planting in front of her door for the spring. She adjusted the planters of mums placed on the porch steps. A variety of gold, orange, brown and red. Perfect for fall and the idyllic picture for a magazine cover. There were pumpkins on the side of the bottom step greeting anyone at her home with the pretty festive colors. A cute scarecrow was staked among fake corn stalks and hay beside the pumpkins.

It was unseasonably warm for November but for the last two months, and even though Harry drove her crazy, she wanted to be outside enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while she could. She had listened to Harry’s flirting with her since the moment she moved in. He was blatant about it. But in the same timeframe, she watched him with women coming and going. Of course, it didn’t bother her one bit who he spent his time with; that was his choice, and he had no obligation to her or the women he took home as long as he wasn’t a complete douchebag to them.

But Harry always seemed to be there. He was there when she got her mail. There when she got home from work. There when she was going to work. It didn’t matter. Didn’t he have to work? “Are businesses too intelligent to hire you?”

“No?” He chuckled phrasing it as a question.

“Just assumed, since you’re never at work.”

He snorted. “Funny.” She continued tending to her flowers. “I work from home.”

Perfect. So he would continue to always be there. Some people had all the luck.

He wasn’t in his boxers for a change. An interesting change of pace. He was in a pair of plain jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, yet he was the one that looked like a model for Nike.

Men had it so easy being attractive. A pair of workout pants and a T-shirt that outlined his pectorals way too tightly was all it took to get her flustered.

He sat beside her and watched her work. “Y’should do our garden, next Buttercup. Looks so nice the way y’put everything together.”

She paused and stared at him. His eyes roamed her little planters and across the weedless yard. He smiled at her as his gaze returned to hers. “You’re making fun of me,” she scowled.

“Kitten,” he pressed a hand over his heart, looking affronted. “I would never make fun of you.”

She looked back at the dirt that was under her nails. She focused on the feeling of it rather than the feeling of dread she felt around Harry. He was so confident in himself and in everything he did. It was annoying. His stupid green eyes and his dumb smile. She couldn’t fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.

“Y’look really pretty in y’garden,” his voice was gentle. Like he was worried she was going to throw something at him. She had considered it. Her trowel seemed like it could do some damage. But she was trying not to be completely ridiculous just because Harry was a pain.

And sickening.

And irritating.

And cute.

Fortunately, she had a list of things to remind herself of that he was a nuisance. Not to mention there were his pranks that made her crazy.

He sprayed her with the hose when she wasn’t looking. Sent mail to her house for porn addiction making the mailman look at her with a smirk before she screamed at Harry (which didn’t help the look the mailman was giving her). At the beginning of October, he put a Halloween mask outside her window to scare her when she woke up so terrifyingly that Louis and Eleanor rushed over in their pajamas. While nothing was irreparable or worth putting her into therapy, the jokes made her mad because Harry always made her mad. He was too good looking and too there all the time.

Instead, she continued weeding and planting. Making the previously bare flower beds green and brown with freshly overturned dirt. It was calming. Being in the garden, the yard. Dirt on her hands and the sun on her back.

“Cat got your tongue, Buttercup?” He joked.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“The more y’ignore me, kitten, jus’ makes me want y’more.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Ugh, will you marry me?”

“You’re so ridiculous, Harry.”

“God, y’drive me wild.”

She continued digging in the dirt. “If you’re going to sit there and be annoying, can you at least be useful and hand me the watering can?”

Harry silently grabbed the can and poured the water into the hole, watching her carefully. “I used t’garden with m’Mum.”

“You didn’t just spawn from the ground climbing out of hell?”

Harry chuckled quietly. “No, m’mum’s a saint,” he said with a smile. The fondness in his voice and reverence for her made her heart skip a beat. He was so annoying but that was undoubtedly beyond sweet. Even if it was Harry saying it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”

“Y’didn’t. I know what y’meant,” he chuckled. “Mum would like you,” he told her. Which absolutely terrified her because mothers often did. It made things more complicated. Like it had in the past.

“She would like me? I’m an absolute bitch to you, Harry.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his voice continued making her throat catch on any rebuttal she wanted to say in return. The pucker of skin between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth his skin. His frown made her sad too. Before she could push the feeling away, he spoke again. “You’re funny. Stubborn. Adorable. Mum would like that y’keep me grounded,” he complimented.

“Keeping you grounded is the nice way of saying bitchy.”

He sighed, irritation practically rolling off him in waves. That was new. “Seriously, kitten. Knock it off,” he shook his head disappointedly.

She blinked, surprised by the genuine tone. “You’re serious?”

“Jus’ because y’say it ‘bout yourself doesn’t make it better.”

For a whole minute she seriously thought about how easy it would be to fall for Harry. He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and funny. Even if he was obnoxious. Louis and Eleanor kept him around for a reason, right? For God’s sake he wouldn’t let her call herself a bitch. Who did that?! “Um... sorry?”

“Apology not accepted. You’ll have t’go on a date with me. S’the only way t’make it up t’me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bulbs she was planting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Alright fine; I’ll jus’ have t’think of something else,” he sighed, pausing, like he was really thinking about how she could make it up to him.

Then he smeared a clod of cold, wet dirt across her cheek.

She spluttered trying to avoid dirt in her mouth and reached out to smack him. However, he was nearly giggling, practically running back to his house before she could register what really happened and retaliate. “See y’later, Buttercup!” He called.

One of Harry’s ongoing pranks involved slipping his phone number into her contacts early on when he met her. It happened shortly after she moved in, and it allowed him to send her memes and inappropriate messages (not the kind of unsolicited messages that only complete dicks sent to women who did not want them) but the ones that he found on the internet. Inappropriate jokes. Innuendos.

But he also texted her when he was heading to the grocery store to see if she needed anything. But in the time that they exchanged messages, she never started the conversations. It was always a Leave me alone Harry. No thank you. Can you stop staring out the window like a creep? If she needed something she asked Louis, which honestly upset him to a degree, but he understood. Harry came on strong when he met her. Not that he would change that, but it wasn’t unreasonable of her to feel standoffish to him.

God, was she beautiful. Harry loved seeing her in the yard. Made it a point to drop everything he was doing and go get a closer look. He was drawn to her. Moth to a flame. The whole bit. She was so funny, even when she was grumpy. He wasn’t joking when he told her that her ignoring him made him want her more.

She was a hard worker and left early in the morning and returned well into dinner time. While the weather was nice, she would sit on her porch and read or work tirelessly on her perfect garden. She was lovely. Harry could see it from afar and he was bummed she didn’t catch on to his shameless flirting the way he had hoped when he first saw her.

One of these days I’d like you to text me instead of Louis when you need something. Louis already has a girlfriend.

From the looks of it you have PLENTY of options for a girlfriend.

Jealous?

Of getting a disease? No. I’m good.

Your green thumb is spreading, Buttercup. It’s not your color.

You can ignore me all you want. Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be a thing. I just want you to know I’m happy to help you if you need it. Not just Louis.

Also, I’m clean in case you ever want to explore that side of things too 😉

Surprisingly, she ignored that message too.

Harry felt like he was going through withdrawals from her. He hadn’t even seen her in the yard. Between the rain and their work schedules, it was like he couldn’t get a glimpse of her pretty being tending to the weeds, reading her book, or anything. His joke asking her what she plays with at night that also vibrates went unanswered.

Maybe he should have stopped sending her inappropriate jokes, but the fact she hadn’t blocked him gave him the shred of hope he desperately wanted. Maybe if she had blocked him it would get through his head that she was out of his league, and she wasn’t interested.

I’m heading home to shower, change, and then I’ll come grab you. It was Niall though, and not her reply to his joke.

Harry put cologne on and settled in the living room quietly scrolling through his social media looking at the time stamp from his message, almost a whole day ago. Frowning, he returned to scrolling and waiting for Niall. Not thinking much of anything of merit as he did.

But then that little notification slid from the top of his phone making his heart bounce with excitement.

Harry, are you home?

Is it finally happening?! 😍

There was no response and Harry thought he ruined their moment. Even if he believed her when she said they would never sleep together, he was glad she was talking to him. He was worried his latest prank had gone too far.

Harry’s car was in the garage, and he had almost every light off since he was leaving soon, so it was a fair question since she couldn’t see the back of his house where he was hiding in his room.

I was kidding, Buttercup. I’m home. You could have just come over to ask though.

There was still no response, but he kept his phone in hand waiting and holding his breath. Hoping something would come through from her again.

Pick some flowers from my yard.

Come knock on the door like we’re supposed to be going on a date.

Please.

And hurry.

Please.

What?

...?

Kitten...what’s wrong?

He tried calling her immediately, but it went right to voicemail, like she had turned her phone off after sending her last message.

What the hell. Why aren’t you answering your phone?

This isn’t funny, Buttercup...

You’re making me nervous.

If this was a retaliation prank it went way too far. Way further than putting the mini popping firecrackers under her tires before she left for work. The very one that got her so mad, he thought she was going to call the cops finally. The one that made her ignore him for days on end despite the messages he sent.

But this wasn’t funny. Not even a little. Her safety and security weren’t things Harry liked to joke about because despite everything, he was possessive about her. And frankly, he adored her. Even if she wasn’t his to obsess over nor adore.

But he wasn’t going to ignore her any longer than he had to. He nearly sprinted out the door, swiping randomly at her pretty flowers and feeling horrible that he was pulling her precious plants after all the hard work she put into them. It seemed silly to spend time doing this, but he didn’t want to fuck up what she asked him to do. Not when her messages seemed so worrisome. Not when she didn’t answer. With a fresh bouquet in hand, he hurried to the front door. Fortunately, he was dressed for a night out. Niall would be on his way to pick him up; so, he was, in theory, date ready. But the thought of being with Niall and not home when she needed him terrified him further. Thank God he was home.

Harry had no idea what was on the other side of her door, but it was embarrassingly late in the moment that he realized there was a car in the driveway he hadn’t seen before. At once he realized she never had company. Which only made him even more anxious.

Swallowing, he knocked firmly.

The door flew open within ten seconds of his knock. The relief in her eyes made Harry feel sick. What was she so nervous about? What could make her that nervous, that seeing him made her at ease? She was constantly irritated by his presence. The moment only made him feel worse. “Harry, right on time,” she smiled sweetly. She was a good actress. If she hadn’t texted Harry so urgently, he wouldn’t be looking for signs of trouble, wouldn’t see the relief in her eyes, and he would have no idea that something was wrong.

“Hi kitten, don’t y’look beautiful,” he cooed leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone as if he had done it a thousand times before. Gratefully, he had imagined it about a thousand times, so it probably looked as natural as it felt. Plus, she was beautiful. Always. The acting came naturally to him as well. His arm wrapped around her waist in the same movement instinctively. His eyes fell to the man standing a few feet back watching her like a hawk. His gaze was territorial and possessive; Harry didn’t care for that at all. Even if she wasn’t Harry’s, she definitely wasn’t his either.

But Harry was possessive, and he was there because she asked him to be there. Something he got the feeling the other man did not have permission for. He knew he shouldn’t have felt possessive of her, but he would pretend all the same if it meant the worry in her eyes would go away.

He handed her the bouquet he plucked only moments before and threaded their fingers together; another movement that felt like he had done before and not for the very first time that second. “Let’s get a vase,” he suggested and kept his eyes on him. It wasn’t lost on him how easily her fingers fit between his, the way their palms touched, or how her grip tightened ever so slightly when she settled her grip in his. “Hey,” he nodded his head in greeting.

The guy ignored Harry. His eyes glaring at the pretty girl beside him. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been dating this guy since the moment you moved in?”

Her cheeks burned red, and Harry kissed the top of her head tucking her toward his chest protectively. Harry didn’t care for it at all. If the anxiety in her texts, expressions, and body language wasn’t enough evidence, then the way she leaned further into his chest despite everything and how annoyed she was by him, certainly was. “M’Harry,” his voice was firm. Pointed. “And you are?”

He grunted, shook his head. “The fuck, babe?” He snapped. She didn’t respond, simply glanced up to meet Harry’s gaze. She blinked unsurely at Harry, unable to find her next move. Harry nudged her gently toward the kitchen.

“Do y’have a name or what?” Harry grumbled over his shoulder as he made a show of caressing her while she found a vase. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the vase in the sink. Fortunately, Harry saw it immediately and tugged the glass from her grip, pulling her hand back in his. Even if it was impractical and stupid looking while he placed the vase with one hand in her sink to finish what she was doing.

“Levi,” he snapped. “We apparently used to date.”

Harry felt her body deflate. He wondered why. Was it the prospect of dating this asshole? Was it the phrase used to? What happened before he got here?

“Well, Levi, glad we’re on the same page and you’re using the past tense. M’here t’take my girlfriend on a date,” he pressed his body around hers, bracketing her body against the sink. She kept her eyes down, away from Levi’s gaze. Her body felt so warm against his it made him wish this wasn’t for show. Instead, he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder hoping she wouldn’t hate him later over it.

He was really into pretending. She squeezed his hands that were wrapped around hers against the edge of counter. Was that a thanks? Was that a sigh he imagined when he kissed her skin? God, she smelled good.

“M’not sure exactly what’s going on here, but m’getting a good sense that she doesn’t want y’here. So maybe s’a good time t’go before I have t’escort y’out of the house.”

He snorted and shook his head. He glared at Harry as he spoke, but her eyes were still cast down toward the sink. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, babe. You can try and fool me all you want. But I’m not stupid. I’ll come back when your boyfriend isn’t around,” he left the kitchen and slammed her front door shut as he exited. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Begrudgingly, he left her by the sink and went to the front door, peering out the small window right next to the frame. He watched while Levi pulled out of her driveway and down the road. Harry stood and watched, waiting for the sound of his car to completely disappear before he felt he wasn’t coming back any time soon. Harry locked her deadbolt.

“Who was that—” He started as he turned back for the kitchen, but his heart practically broke at the sight of his stubborn, fearless, and utterly pretty neighbor teary eyed and shaken to the core. She left the kitchen near silently it seemed but stopped in the hall right before the entryway of the front door. He didn’t even hear her approach. “Hey,” he cooed coming closer. “Buttercup,” he frowned when she didn’t respond to her nickname. “Hey,” it was like he was approaching a wounded, wild animal. He didn’t want to scare her, but God did he want to protect her. God, did he want to hold her again. “Love, he’s gone. I—” He wanted to reach out for her and pull her into his embrace again, but something about her looked off. The anxiety written all over her face made him nervous and sad.

He zoned in on her hands; they were shaking by her sides worse than the way she held the vase. Her eyes were so fucking sad looking Harry wanted to scream. “Kitten,” he tried again. “Can I...?” He reached for her again. “M’not going to...” all his sentences were half finished as he tried to figure out why the fuck Levi scared her so badly. All he wanted was to comfort her. She was too sweet and pretty to look so terrified. When she never looked scared of anything. “Buttercup,” he murmured again.

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine,” but her voice was barely audible over the sound of it getting caught around the emotion in her throat.

“Hey, s’okay t’not be okay. M’here,” he promised holding his hands out to her. “Can I touch you?” He asked. She shook her head quickly. It hurt like hell for her to say no. Harry thought he was seriously going to cry. “Okay, okay,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself not to try and comfort her and the last thing that he ever wanted to do was break her trust and consent. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart,” he pouted and watched as she was starting to shake like she was in the middle of a blizzard without a coat. “Come sit,” he begged. “Please.”

She obeyed and Harry went to her kitchen and found a glass in the cabinet as if this was his own house. He got water from the dispenser on her fridge, and he brought it to her. Her hands were still shaking violently, and her tears were flowing but not a sound other than a quiet sniffle left her. “Here, Buttercup,” he mumbled.

She sniveled and wiped her eyes as she took the cup from him. He avoided brushing her fingers with his and he paced in front of the coffee table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he caught sight of the time. “Fuck,” he muttered. Pressing the phone to his ear he glanced out the window. “Sorry Niall. Can’t come out,” he ran a hand on the back of his head. She perked up at his words.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“No... I don’t know.... I just need t’be here for her,” he mumbled.

“Harry, you don’t—”

He silenced her with a look while her words died in her throat with another little whimper. Being vulnerable was hard for her. Obviously. Harry wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to watch her look so upset and scared and not comfort her. If he knew letting go of her in the kitchen meant he wouldn’t get to touch her again, he wouldn’t have let go to start.

He hung up without hearing Niall’s response and he put his phone in his back pocket.

“If you have plans—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted shaking his head quickly. “Jus’ a date with a pretty girl,” he sat across from her on the coffee table making sure that not even his knee bumped against her. His eyes were following her every breath. Every tiny movement and flinch. The nervousness he felt was painful. Waiting for something to make sense. The water in her glass rippled and practically splashed over the side from how hard she was shaking. Harry wanted nothing more than to take it from her grip. But instead, he patiently waited until she sipped it.

“I’m okay,” her voice was nothing more than air. Even if it wasn’t, Harry wouldn’t believe her.

“Baby,” he frowned. “No one sends a message like that if they’re not worried about their safety. I’m worried ‘bout your safety. So don’t pretend t’be okay if you’re not. I’ll stay all night, sitting right here, and stare at you.”

She snorted. “That sounds like watching paint dry.”

He shrugged. “You’re far more interesting and prettier than paint drying.”

She swiped at her eyes again looking at her lap. “He cheated on me.”

“What a fucking moron,” he mumbled and tilted his head at the ceiling. Harry would never understand how the luckiest men in the world treated lovely, beautiful girls like her as if they were nothing. “He wants y’back?”

She shrugged, shook her head, and nodded. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want him back?”

She whimpered and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut so tight, he worried she was going to split open her lids. “God, no,” she whispered.

Harry sighed, rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Can y’talk t’me, kitten? M’not leaving unless y’tell me to. Do y’want me t’leave?” It would kill him. Sincerely, truly kill him. But if she didn’t want him there, he would go.

“I can’t,” she was sobbing. It was killing him. It hurt so much not to hold her and comfort her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll... I’ll jus’... go back t’my house... Yeah? If y’need something, jus’...” he rubbed a hand over his face feeling like he was walking on a bed of glass saying the words. “Call, text, throw rocks at m’window,” he stood, mindful to not bump her knee. He smiled weakly at his own joke. It wasn’t returned. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t know how to help the sweet, lovely girl. The smile fell from his lips when she didn’t respond. “Jus’... lock the door behind me, Buttercup, yeah?”

It felt like he was walking toward his death, but he left her living room and waited until he heard her deadbolt lock before he descended her porch steps.

She dropped the glass of water Harry gave her in the kitchen after she let Harry leave. It shattered into a million microscopic pieces and the flowers from her garden looked so unbelievably pretty she wished Harry really was taking her on a date.

She covered her mouth around another broken sob. Her eyes felt red and raw, and the pressure of her sinuses and the front of her forehead ached beyond words. She was safe. She was okay. But her chest hurt.

Levi was gone. Harry came to her rescue. After she was mean and grumpy toward him. Trying to protect her heart after it hurt six ways to Sunday because of the man that let himself into her home without permission. Harry didn’t even try to touch her without permission. She could tell he wanted to. Hell, she wanted him to... but everything hurt, and she was just so scared.

Maybe it was too late. But she needed him. Really needed Harry to hold her and comfort her. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of how lovely it was to be held by him. The kiss on her skin. He was warm and solid. Safe. That’s what she wanted. To feel safe. Her heart ached with want.

Immediately after the thought of his warm solid body around hers, she raced out of the kitchen and unlocked her door. She was ready to fly down the steps of her porch, cross her yard and his hoping he would have the door open before she even arrived.

But Harry was already there; at the bottom of the third and final step of her porch.

He never even left.

Harry stood and turned as soon as he heard the deadbolt open, standing only seconds before she was ready to blow right past him. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered to himself.

Without any more pause, she was in his embrace. Her arms around his neck and she sobbed openly into his shoulder. His hands felt so big and safe on her body, just as she predicted.

He hummed something into her hair. Something like “M’here,” in his gravelly, pretty voice. “I have you,” he soothed. “Oh kitten, m’so sorry,” his voice sounded like he wanted to cry as much as she was. Poor Harry. He didn’t deserve to feel so sad. Not because of her and her messed up life. “C’mon, Buttercup,” he scooped behind her knees and cradled her as he carried her back inside to her sofa, locking the door behind them as he entered.

“Don’t leave me, please,” she begged, sniffling into his shirt.

“Never, baby. Never, ever, ever,” he promised rubbing her back. “Not unless y’ask.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “But I will ask,” she sniffed. “Because I’m too much. I’m sad, scared, broken, and damaged.”

“Y’not any of those things, kitten. Certainly not damaged, Buttercup.”

“But I am,” she whimpered. “You have no idea. He messed me up so bad... and I... I don’t,” she choked. “I pushed you away already.”

It wasn’t much, but the little bit she opened up her heart to him meant the world to him. It was almost as good as holding her. But nothing could replace that feeling now that he had it. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I wasn’t far,” he shrugged.

He didn’t even leave her porch. Was he going to stay out there all night? Her heart felt achy, and her eyes were already raw with tears but if they weren’t she would have cried at the thought of her obnoxious neighbor sleeping on the bottom step of her porch in the cold all because she was broken.

“You just wanted to help, and touch and hold me, and I wouldn’t let you—”

“Kitten,” he said sternly. He cupped below her jaw and stared right into her pupils like he was speaking directly to her soul. “Let’s get one thing very clear. I will never touch you without permission. No one has any right t’touch you unless y’ask.”

A sob escaped her throat and then she buried her face against his chest. His body was so broad and warm. She imagined if they were without heat or power, she would still be warm. “But I want you to touch me. All the time. Every second I’m around you,” there was no use denying it. Not when she couldn’t lift her face from his shirt.

Harry sighed with relief. “Well good,” he squeezed her affectionately. “Baby,” he stroked his thumb below her eye. “What happened?”

She shivered and Harry pulled the blanket that was on the back of her sofa over them. Her personality was huge and beautiful. She invaded Harry’s every thought. In the same room, she was in every air particle. Outside in her garden she was every little piece of dirt, petal, stem, root and all. She was larger than life.

It killed him she felt so small in his arms.

“I knew he was cheating, and he didn’t want me to leave,” she sniffed. Harry nodded, his teeth ground together. His jaw tensed. Waiting for her to continue. “He said I was overreacting. Our relationship was stale, and we just needed something to spice things up.”

She turned her face to his shirt and Harry cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding and massaging his fingertips against the back of her skull. “He’s an idiot, Buttercup. A stupid, idiotic, horrible excuse for a man,” he grumbled.

She swallowed and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Harry holding her felt like medicine was sinking into her skin and directly into her bloodstream. Harry didn’t force her to speak. He didn’t ask questions. He just held her. She was sure he wanted to know more. Wanted to know all the gritty details that resulted in her moving in the middle of the night and finding this house next to his.

But there was only one thing she could think about.

“Why do you call me Buttercup?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t answer for several seconds. His free hand was on the small of her back, pressing gently to get her frame even closer to his. “Can I kiss right here?” He asked ignoring her question. He brushed his thumb along her temple. She nodded and Harry followed the brush of his thumb with his lips.

“That’s nice,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Jus’ wait ‘til y’get a real kiss,” he promised. “Gonna make y’fall in love with me.”

She didn’t want to tell him she already had because that seemed ridiculous. So ridiculous it made her a little breathless. “That good hmm?” She hummed.

“Never had a complaint.”

“That’s obvious,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sleep with all of them.”

“Not my business.”

“But it is... M’a gentleman first, kitten. Mum taught me well. I just like t’make m’date feel good,” he explained. “Doesn’t always include... y’know,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know I drove y’crazy walking them out in m’boxers.”

“No, you didn’t,” she lied.

He chuckled. “S’okay t’admit it, kitten; don’t know what I would have done if y’had someone over and flaunted a date in jus’ your underwear.”

“You were trying to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t think y’were that stubborn.”

She wasn’t sure if Harry was avoiding her question or trying to distract her, but she still wanted an answer. “Why?” She asked quietly again.

“Why what?”

“Why do you call me buttercup?”

He sighed, kissed her temple again turning her insides warm and mushy. He didn’t speak for a few seconds like he didn’t really want to tell her. “Y’were eating a peanut buttercup,” he mumbled. “When y’moved in. Y’have wrappers all over the floor of y’car. On Halloween, y’didn’t pass out any of them, but I saw them in the grocery bags I carried in for you one time.”

She bit her lip wondering how she didn’t put it together. It was incredible he noticed that. “They’re my favorite,” her voice no more than air once more.

“And you’re mine,” he assured her, cupping the side of her face. “M’not going t’let him hurt you. I’ll break every bone in his body and mine if I have to.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to—”

“Buttercup, m’not joking,” he said cutting off her protest. “Y’don’t have t’be scared because m’never going t’let him get close t’you ever again,” he promised.

“He just said he was going to... wait until you leave, Harry. You can’t promise that.”

“Guess I won’t leave. Or you’ll have t’come home with me.”

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Kitten, m’not messing around with y’safety,” he reminded her. “I can stay here on the couch and y’can stay in your bed. It doesn’t have t’be a thing. M’staying t’keep y’safe. Don’t read into it if y’don’t want to.”

But she wanted to read into it. God, did she want to. Harry dropped everything the moment she texted him from the bathroom in a panic. He was only next door. Didn’t she want to believe all his pranks were his way of flirting? Didn’t she want to believe he liked her more than just annoying her?

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. He didn’t deserve a mess. He deserved one of the effortlessly beautiful girls that he brought home. The kind that knew how to curl their own hair and where to draw the contour lines when they did their makeup. “You don’t have to stay,” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he tutted.

“No seriously—”

“You’re deflecting, baby.”

“I’m just—”

“Buttercup,” Harry’s hands felt so warm and perfect against her skin. He brought his other hand to her bare cheek. It looked like he was trying not to cry himself when she met his gaze. “You just told me y’would try t’push me away. I don’t want t’go. But I will. I’ll sleep on your porch if y’want me too,” he offered. “Please,” he whispered quietly. Gently, like he was worried he was going to scare her. “Don’t ask me t’leave you.”

There was a long pause. “Stay,” she murmured into his hand. Because she was too exhausted and scared to tell him to leave. Pressing her lips against his palm, she met his gaze and watched the hope bloom in his eyes with just one little word. “Please... please stay.”

Harry sighed with relief, pulling her tightly toward him and nodding. “Course, Buttercup. Of course.”

It had become routine. She arrived home from work, and there was Harry. Sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He waited for her while she gathered her belongings from her car. His smile was so stunning. Like a streetlight on a dark road. Bright, beautiful, and all for her. “Hey Buttercup,” he hummed as she approached. He stood and pulled the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her. It wasn’t even heavy. In the same movement, he pecked her cheek and pressed a hand to her lower back like he had done for the last six weeks since he started seeing her exclusively. Not a single girl with perfectly curled hair had been his driveway. No one with expertly contoured makeup. Harry stopped walking around his yard in his boxers (but now she wished he did it more). As he guided her toward the front door, he continued grinning like an idiot. “Did your day get better after lunch, kitten?”

She nodded, his encouraging text sent at lunchtime was meant to ease the frustration he could sense through her messages. It wasn’t lost on him that as much as he used to enjoy her frustration, he wanted nothing more than to ease it now. “M-hmm,” she smiled at him. “You?”

“Better now that you’re home.”

She rolled her eyes at him because while he stopped pranking her so much, he replaced it with the cheesiest thoughts and lines known to man. But there was no denying how it made her heart flutter. “Did you want to go out to eat?” She asked.

He shrugged, then nodded. “We can if y’want.”

“I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Me either.”

“Let me change and we’ll go.” Harry was looking at her strangely. The kind of face he made when he pulled pranks on her before he officially swept her off her feet. Maybe she was wrong, and the pranks were coming back.

Maybe there were those mini firecrackers under her toilet seat. “What?”

“Nothing, jus’... think y’look pretty,” his smile was too devilish (and handsome). He knew what he was doing. she shook her head and snorted. But Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He watched her head to her bedroom. When she stopped in the doorway, his smile bloomed. Her pause to look at her room as if it wasn’t hers made his heart skip a beat. “S’matter, Buttercup?”

“There are like a hundred peanut butter cups on my bed,” she told him. Like he didn’t already know. Orange wrappers lined up in the shape of a heart along her bed spread.

“107, actually,” She turned to look at him. He shrugged. “It would have 110, but I needed a snack.”

She wanted to smile. But her heart was beating fast, her emotions overwhelming her. She bit the inside of her lip. “Why?”

“Y’said y’were having a bad day.”

Her lip felt raw from biting it, behind her eyes prickled with tears. “Oh.”

“S’nice? Yeah?” He wondered and made his way to her, putting his hand on her lower back. He kissed her temple. “Kitten?” She nodded and turned her head toward him, hiding her face against his shoulder and trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to come out of her. “Hey, s’wrong, Buttercup?” He frowned. “Do y’want t’order take away instead?” He rubbed her arm soothingly.

She shook her head, then nodded, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know,” she sniffed.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he hummed. “S’okay,” he reassured her. He didn’t even know why she needed reassurance. “S’jus’ some candy.” She sniffled again and Harry kissed the top of her hair. “M’gonna make sure y’feel good all the time, Buttercup,” he promised.

Her chest felt so overwhelmingly warm and achy in the best way. She nodded against him wishing she could tuck herself further into his strong body where she felt like nothing bad could happen. The change in relationship was a lot to absorb. But it was easy in a lot of ways. Harry was sweeter than she ever imagined he could be. Or maybe she was biased now that she got kisses, and he held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched. It killed her in hindsight how standoffish she had been to him. The thought of ignoring him made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I think you really will,” she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Y’never have to thank me, kitten,” he shrugged. “Sorry I was so annoying.”

“I suppose it worked,” she sniffed.

He chuckled. “I knew it would.”

“You did not.”

“I did so,” he said petulantly. “Or I hoped it would.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t know why you would want someone so mean.”

“Jus’ makes me want y’more,” he joked and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “M’gonna kiss y’now, kitten,” his way of warning her and asking for permission. It hurt that he felt he had to ask. But Harry was nothing if not thorough and sure in asking for her consent.

“Don’t ever stop,” she sighed dreamily.

He chuckled again and leaned in to follow his promise. “M’pleasure, Buttercup.”

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 1 month ago

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖

── mdni sexual content ; headcanons on how the boys would act with you (afab!reader) when you have a praise kink. inclusive of: praise (obv), pet name usage, dirty talk, teasing, general foreplay, vaginal sex, overstimulation.

featuring : rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne, caleb, jeremiah, luke, kieran.

an : this was a request i put off a liiittle bit bc i had to think of how i wanted to approach the prompt, but! it was super superrrr fun, and i maybe wrote a little bit more for each of the guys than i intended hehe <3

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

ʀᴀꜰᴀʏᴇʟ

praise from rafayel is raw.

undeniably, during the day, there's a little part of him that would be a little shit about it—tease you to wit's end, preying on your little praise kink like it's a shiny little pearl he's found for him to play with. good girl~ here, pretty girl~ there… there'll be a little sing-songy tone to his voice, a teasing lilt, and sometimes it's more than you can take—sometimes you'll snap out of embarrassment, sometimes you'll maybe shove him away, sometimes all you can do is puff your cheeks up and do a little hmph. but really, it doesn't work out very much—"you're such a cutie, miss bodyguard."

but then there's a little switch that flips when the both of you are alone.

because the love that he has for you is overwhelming.

you're more than just a pretty girl, more than just a good girl, more than just the teasing little praises he's been singing all day just to rouse a reaction from you.

you're the love of his life. you're perfect to him.

and he's pounding into you as you writhe and moan beneath him, his hair clinging to his forehead, lips parted in heavy pants… his eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, but there's nothing more obvious in those pretty pretty magenta eyes of his— than how much he truly treasures you. his voice is breathless when he speaks, he doesn't stop the movement of his hips, so lost in drinking in the sight of you splayed on his bed like this—and maybe, all he can say is, "beautiful."

because sometimes, sometimes, he's just not the best with words. maybe he can't bring himself to form a coherent thought anymore but that; how beautiful you are, how ethereal, how perfect. between strings of moans of your name, maybe it's all he can say. but it's pure, and raw, and genuine in every sense of the word, almost like a cry tearing from his chest, because what he really means when he snaps his hips down to yours and fills you up with every last drop of his cum, is—i love you.

ꜱʏʟᴜꜱ

praise from sylus is enough to steal your breath away.

it's unexpected, mostly a surprise—albeit a pleasant one. and it's really not that he wouldn't do it often. it's quite the opposite, in fact; he'd do it often. because he knows. he knows exactly how to get you going, how to rile you up… and it's something that he would capitalize on, since your reactions have always been thoroughly endearing to him as much as they were amusing.

by this, i mean, it doesn't just stay in the bedroom. not at all. it slips into simple, everyday things. and that's why it's so unexpected for you.

after successfully completing a mission, he'd walk over and pull you towards him by the waist: "good job, sweetie." a basic task done in front of him, maybe something as simple as making yourself—or both of you—a meal, and: "what a good girl you are." the back-and-forth bickering you would sometimes have might end with him tapping a finger to his cheek, a little up, a glance of appreciation—"you're adorable when you're excited, sweetie." or maybe sometimes he'd walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, lean in to have his lips graze over the shell of your ear… "do you know that i'm quite fond of you? such a good, good girl for me."

he'd chuckle at the stutter in your motions, the flush on your cheeks… and he'd know you're defaulting to thoughts of the bedroom. especially when his voice would dip, all low and sultry, that satisfied, satisfied smirk on his face. 90% of the time, he'd get what he wants—which means you underneath him, fisting the sheets as he ravishes you whole; tongue, and teeth, and fingers… and more. of course, he'd aim for nothing more than to give you pleasure, and he knows how to make it better with just a few added words of praise.

"you're doing well, kitten. that's right, just like that… you make it so easy for me to worship you."

maybe he's conditioned you with it just a little bit.

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ

xavier's praises are soft, but very direct.

he's not one to cut corners, not when it comes to the way that he sees you. like sylus, it slips into little, everyday things, half with the intention to rile you up, and half to genuinely just say what he's thinking. but as direct as his statements would be, he'd sometimes play a little coy. the irony is never lost with you. and yet, he'd do it anyway. all casual statements, blinks of innocence, smiles that would indicate he had zero idea of the effect he had on you.

you knew otherwise, though.

"you did really well," he'd say after a fight with a wanderer, "all that training really paid off." he'd nod, that familiar little nod that you know so well—to everyone else, it's so completely normal… and to you, it would have been, had the twinkle in his eye not been present, had his touch against your hand not lingered for a little bit longer than usual.

"i like your perfume today, it's nice," is how he greets you in the morning sometimes, with a smile that would have looked completely innocent—it not for the half-step he took closer to you, if not for the little twitch in the corner of his lips, if not for the way he'd reach over to move your hair from your face.

"your dress is pretty. i think it really fits you." a cute little compliment, no? you'd have taken it as such, but you wouldn't have missed the way his eyes would rake over your body, even with the slow, innocent blinks he'd give you afterwards. it doesn't matter that he offers you his hand for you to take, it doesn't matter if he brushes it off like he didn't just have every thought in his head on display for you. because at the end of the day, all of this turns into your fingers intertwined, you pressed up against your pillow, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he pumps his cock into you.

"mmmh… you're so good for me, angel, feel so good, so good…"

a little incoherent, not all that audible, but you can still hear it. he'd nuzzle into your skin, vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your body… there's something in him that doesn't quell him to stop, losing himself in how good you feel, how good you are. "you smell so good… you taste just as good, too, angel… you're so soft, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty… nmh, don' want to stop…"

ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ

the way zayne praises you is quiet. gentle.

it's the kind that flows seamlessly into your ear like a soothing little melody… yet, his voice would carry with it a certain level of firmness, indicating that you have no other say in the matter. because he means it—and that's that. it's the kind of praise that's reassuring every time he'd say it, no matter how many times he'd say it. he's your safe haven. he knows how to make you feel better about yourself. insecurities? doubts? worries? gone, immediately. because that's the way it is with him.

it doesn't matter what about you he's praising, nor does it matter when. it's used less as a trigger for your pleasure, and more for him to be unfiltered with you. it doesn't matter if he's seeing you for a dinner date and you're all dressed up, it doesn't matter if he's coming home to you in your pajamas with messy hair and no makeup at all. it doesn't matter if you lose at a little board game the two of you had been playing, it doesn't matter if you'd won nearly half the stall at the carnival that day, doesn't matter if you're on the phone with him and there's a beat of silence as you listen to each others' breathing. it doesn't matter, either, if he's all the way inside of you, slow, rhythmic thrusts, lips attached to your ear—it doesn't matter if his hands had found their way to your chest, fondling and kneading at the soft flesh.

he'll whisper sweet words into your ear, always, whenever he gets the chance.

and at night, he holds you close, hushed words perfectly timed with each and every thrust. they aren't sweet nothings. they're sweet everythings. because he knows that these words are exactly what you need from him, exactly what you need to feel loved, and appreciated, and cared for. with zayne, praise is as genuine and as pure as it gets—sure, he'll cherish the way you whine in response, the whimpers that fall from your lips… he knows that it gives you an extra bit of pleasure, but that's a plus. more than that, he'd never fail to convey how much you mean to him. it's the perfect opportunity for him. just to hold you close, and make love to you like this, quiet, hushed little words of affirmations…

good girl. you take me so well, my love. you feel so good, darling. you're perfect for me.

ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ

praise from caleb is a little infuriating, but it works.

perhaps it's because you're much too used to bickering with him, all these playful little fights about anything under the sun that could usually end up in a fit of giggles—but praise from him comes off a little more like a tease sometimes, a little bit borderlining on mocking. not because he doesn't mean well, but, because… it takes a while for you to realize he's being genuine about it. he probably has to drill it into you himself—repeat it a few times, eyebrow raised, amusedly gauging your reactions. he'd watch you turn from a scoff, to a look of confusion, to the gradual realization that dawns—"caleb!" a gasp of surprise, and maybe you hit his shoulder a little, maybe he has to laugh.

but he means it.

he means it when he calls you beautiful, means it when he says you make him proud. he means it when he tells you how much you mean to him, means it when he tells you that there's no other person he'd rather be around like this, than you.

and he'd look you straight in the eyes when he says it again—repeats it, probably, for the nth time that day, trying to make you understand that it's real.

he repeats it even when he has you sinking into the mattress, pinned down by his weight, legs raised to his shoulder as he fucks himself into you. "yeah, you like that, right, pipsqueak? you're all beautiful like this, taking me so deep… fuck, i can't get enough of you. you're the only one for me, baby." he'd lift a hand to delicately trail down the side of your cheek, and you'd be astonished at the blatant swirl of lust and love settled deep in his eyes—filthy words punctuated with praise; he just can't help himself around you.

"mmm, pretty cunt all wrapped up around me… shit, i love you so damn much, why're you so perfect?" his hips would snap up so roughly, in contrast to the gentle caresses he'd leave over your body, in line with the way he's brought you up to orgasm after orgasm. "you're doing so well, baby, c'mon. you can cum again, just one more f'me…"

ᴊᴇʀᴇᴍɪᴀʜ

jeremiah's praises are a little bit… inconsistent.

not that you never know when you're going to get them, because he does it quite freely—pretty often, mostly whenever he feels like saying nice things about you, which, well… happens to be quite a lot.

but you never know how you're going to get them.

he's big on compliments, always has been. so sometimes it's extremely easy for him to whip out a few words of praise. maybe he saw a flower that reminded him of you. he'd send it over with a sweet letter detailing what you mean to him. or maybe he'd send a simple text, just a little "thinking of you today, princess!" to make you smile. sometimes, he'd give you a little kiss on the cheek, on the nose, say an equally simple "hey, you look beautiful today." or on other days, he'd play a little bit coy, maybe sending a little wink your way after some cheesy compliment disguised as a pickup line—playful, a little bit of a little shit about it, and these are the ones that probably get you the most flustered.

but as much as he prides himself in his way with words—literature lover at heart, poetry lover first before anything… well, sometimes he doesn't have words. not when it comes to you.

because, how can he? sometimes he's too overcome with emotion—the fact that you're here, the fact that you're with him, the fact that he can actually cup your face and look into your eyes and say with conviction that he's finally with the girl he loves more than anything else in the world. even more than flowers. even more than words.

and it's such times that he's more flustered than you. nevermind your praise kink—sometimes he's the one tripping over his words, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and flushing in embarrassment when the words won't come out right. there's a little less of the nonchalance, the playfulness. he tries to be more serious, but it backfires, because he is serious—about you, about both of you, about your relationship… and about how much he loves you.

so even in intimate moments, your body flush against his; even in the way that he kisses you, so tender and loving and sweet… even when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, gentle motion, even when he'd make love to you under the dim lights of his bedroom… sometimes, his words just fail him. sometimes all he can do is look into your eyes and breathlessly moan out your name. sometimes he has to dip down and nuzzle into your chest, whining out something incoherent—something like a mushed up string of i love you's if you really listen closely enough.

there's a little less praise to go around.

maybe he'll call you pretty, maybe he'll call you perfect… maybe he'll say a little something about how good you feel, but they're lost and broken into moans, and maybe you're both too into it to really register anything he's saying. because for all that he prides himself with his words, he's really just a little too lost in the feeling of you to bother.

(in the end, it's easier for you to get his praise outside the bedroom…)

ᴋɪᴇʀᴀɴ

praise from kieran is… rare.

he's not used to it; not at all.

part of him maybe thinks he should do it more—well, no, he knows that he probably should, especially when he knows it makes you feel good. he'd admit it to himself that he likes getting you all flustered, enjoys knowing that he has a certain effect on you, that even a simple little praise is enough to give him such a reaction. but words of affirmation aren't particularly his thing, and it just… doesn't happen very often. if it did, it would happen randomly, with nothing too elaborate, maybe even just said in passing—mostly because he doesn't want to draw attention to it. there's a part of him that feels a little bit embarrassed about being so direct with his words like that.

still, it happens nonetheless, sometimes. and when it does happen, it's really truly almost as if there's nothing else you can think of but him. his words. the fact that he's actually really, truly, legitimately praised you.

pretty. just one word. he has you pinned against the wall, something of a knowing smirk visible on his lips as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw and dip lower.

good girl. two words, two fingers dip into your mouth for just a moment… and he's so pleased when you let him. so what else can he do but kiss you? what else can he do but press his body up against yours, feel the way you practically melt against him like this?

he's remembering truly just how much his praise gets to you, and it spurs him to act further—low grunts about how good you feel when he hoists a leg up to his waist so he can slide himself into you, all snug and comfortable in your wet heat... he could praise you for how well you take him, little words about how you're absolutely the best—"mmm you're driving me crazy, angel… just like that. good. fucking. girl."

it's rare, and he doesn't do it often. but maybe, sometimes, when he does start… it's a little bit difficult to stop.

ʟᴜᴋᴇ

one thing to be established is: luke's praises are constant.

they never stop. you hear them so goddamn much. in fact, maybe part of you even feels a little used to it.

it happens nearly all the time, as many times as he can think to—sometimes a little bit teasing, sometimes just to get under your skin a little, sometimes maybe a teeny bit (a lot) obnoxious about it… or, sometimes, in a softer tone, a little more genuine than usual. but the root of it really remains to be that he'll take every little opportunity to throw a compliment your way. especially when he realize it affects you a little more than he originally thought. because the way your heart rate accelerates? the way you'd freeze in place for even just a tiny tiny moment, every single time? even the way your cheeks heat up, maybe sometimes the way your eyes would dart away from him to look at anything else in the room… it gives him pure joy, and it only makes him want to do it more.

"heyy, pretty little miss hunter!" in simple, everyday settings? he'd be so casual about it when he sees you, maybe throwing a little wink your way. the grin on his face would be so telling about how much he just knows. "you look cute today!" or, "that thing you did just now was really cool!" or even just, "what's my pretty girl up to this time, huh?" and it gets your brain blanking in seconds.

but it doesn't compare to the bedroom—a quiet place where he's softer, gentler… where all you can hear are his praises, about anything and everything, hands moving over your body in tender, petting caresses. "your skin's super soft," he'd mumble. "did you use a new shampoo, or something? smells real nice." and he'd dip his head into your neck, lick at the sensitive patch of skin… his hands would slide between your legs, rubbing teasing circles over your clit. "mmm… tastes good… feels good…" he'd dip his finger in, gathering your slick, chuckling at how much there already is— "damn, sunshine, so wet for me? that's what i like to see."

it's a little infuriating, in a sense. he finds every little thing to praise, but… he means it. there's so much of you to praise. it's more than just how well you take his fingers, his tongue, his cock; it's more than just how good you feel or how good you're being for him… it's just, everything. he wants to say what's on his mind with you, and especially behind closed doors? he's got a whole lot of thoughts, and all of them happen to be good things about you.

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