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salemoleander · 2 years ago

Note

VERY interested in creator commentary for the 3rd life webweave (seriously one of the coolest things ive seen made in this fandom, its gorgeously edited AND very funny AND the quotes themselves are all knock-your-socks off material. That Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Line Holy Shit)

Okay so first off THANK YOU that's super kind! It's nerve-wracking posting graphic design that is reconstituted from other sources, bc I've seen it perceived as a 'lazy' or unskilled format, so this is really really encouraging to hear.

I am not a concise person, which is why this has taken so long! I realized as I was initially responding that I was trying to dive into three separate topics:

The actual process I follow, my tips + tricks on making web weaves

Analysis of my 3rd Life web weave

My philosophy towards web weaves and collage as an art form

Only one of those is the question you actually asked, so #2 is what I'll be talking about in this post! However, I am working on a video overview of the other topics, because I think they're worth exploring - I will obviously post that on this blog once it's done.

To avoid jumpscaring anyone with a wall of text, I've thrown my commentary under a readmore.

The one takeaway I'll mention before we dive in is if anyone has a character/narrative web weave request, please hit me up! I have so many I'm working on, having a next topic suggestion is super helpful to narrow things down.

General Creation Comments

I am At All Times collecting images, so it's only a matter of time until I make a webweave for a group/ concept/ person:

(My phone storage is Certainly being utilized. Also I will never be free of making these.)

It just so happened that my Third Life folder filled up fastest/ felt like it was in a good balance to work with, so that's what I started with!

I try to use a mix of text and images, and both serious and funny stuff. Even at its most serious the Life Series is also funny, and it's important to reflect that!

That said, if you compare the jokes I've picked in this piece vs the void falling web weave, you'll notice the jokes on this one trend sharper. The 'How to Detect Misery' and 'How to Tell if it's Over' memes (both from @thatsbelievable, who is a GREAT source of web weave content) are morbidly funny. Surviving horrific circumstances, preparing to suffer, unimaginable violence, eroticism and death, covered in blood - all of the jokes are violent.

As I go, I weed out posts that don't fit, or (mostly) prune text posts out. Too much text ruins the flow, and I LOVE words so I tend to have too much writing and not enough art.

3rd life had only a few things that didn't make the cut, bc I was fairly judicious as I added to that folder, but these were scrapped:

As I added the posts I knew I wanted and split them between panels, I naturally started seeing a 'flow' from early game biomes/bases and the more tender pairings, into violence + devotion, and then ending in.. something. I wasn't sure what I wanted the end to be yet.

I ran out of posts, and knew I needed Wayyy more images to offset the text, so I went looking through the Smithsonian's excellent collection of CC0-licensed art!

That's where I found the Perfect Image - that last picture of the red angel laid low. I knew immediately that it needed to be most of the final scene, with very little obscuring or distracting from it.

Okay, diving into specific panel analysis!

Panel One

It's the beginning, so everything is still fairly light - lots of brown and green tones.

The summary (imo) is that every faction in 3rd Life is in different stories!

Grian and Scar are playing cowboys, an old Western style narrative where they're beholden to each other, out to get the Bad Guys (even if objectively they're the ones being violent little instigators).

Flower Husbands are a greek fucking tragedy, Jimmy's sudden loss and Scott in mourning, trying to cause as much destruction as possible before the gods knock him down too.

Dogwarts are a middle English story of fealty and homosocial bonds and dying for honor.

And the Crastle is like. Shakespeare or Arthur Miller or Stoppard. They are in a theater, they are playing with all of the narratives. Too aware of the trajectory they're on, and entirely unable to stop it.

The images on the first page are the four primary pairings in 3rd Life - top left, in the background of the 'How to Detect Misery' meme, is the desert. The sudden punchline of that meme felt like a good starting point - a creeper-blast of a joke.

The pair to the right represent Scott and Jimmy. I liked the Impressionist and classic myth-inspired stylization. Also, the toga blended near-seamlessly into the desert hill so it looked almost like a wing, implying a tie to angels as well as foreshadowing Jimmy's death AND Scott's partnership with Grian/Scar.

Up in the top right-hand corner is a little Crastle, and the pair embracing on the right side of the page are Bdubs and Cleo. The red hair fit, but it was the old-fashioned clothing and sense of finality that I really liked.

On the left is Dogwarts - Ren and Martyn. I wanted an image that had a very different style, as they were opposed to desert duo + everyone else. I felt the sketchy ink stood out and elicited ideas of worn vellum paper. It felt like a sketch you'd discover sitting in a chest of a long-worn-down enchanting room.

There's a forest and a mostly-occluded castle in the background art on page one, also meant to represent Dogwarts. That forest bleeds into the next page, where the violence really begins.

Panel Two

We've started with a forest, but it's darker than the last one, and wilder.

Bursts of red stand out violently on the page.

'Fallen Angel' is a classic for emotionally fraught blorboposting! There are many, Many Mountain Goats songs that fit, but the way a-doctor-not-a-fangirl paired this line with this painting was striking to me. In particular, I like how 'getting revenge' was something that drove most of 3rd Life, even though Red Lives (come unhinged) were meant to be the driving force of violence. They weren't supposed to have bonds, they weren't supposed to have allies! But it's the bonds that drove the violence.

The 'I heart eroticism and death' cut-out plopped onto the collage was intended to feel like a kind of cheesy tourist stamp - 'I killed my friends in horrible death games and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' vibes.

The 'First off' comment feels like the illogical thought proces all of the doomed players (so, all of the players) were following - "if I just do well enough at murder, this will all be over."

The 'moments of grace' image is probably my most indulgent addition. I wanted a softer, quiet nod to the good parts, to the fun and the joy in between the violence. In particular, the dawn breaking on waves reminded me of the short span Grian and Scar spent tensely placing TNT under sand in the desert. I imagine silent cooperation and the sussuration of sand on sand, and quiet for just a few minutes.

'It's better to know how to let others unmask you and to endure the rule of the game' means: if you are too good, if you survive long enough, you will end up alone. This is about Bdubs and Cleo - kings of roleplay, of being a little overeager and dying for it and getting a mercifully quick ending. It is also about the cactus ring.

Panel Three

The centerpiece of this page is 'G-d's Idea', the beautiful abstract painting of a blood-soaked angel. It makes me insane every time I see it. Grim reaper in mourning kinda guy

I wanted to do something to tie more directly to the end, but didn't want to pull a disembodied-face-in-90s-grad-photo approach to add Scar. So I found a drawing that looked like the Monopoly Mountain build, and carefully added it onto one wing. I really really like this as an addition, it is probably my favorite combination in this post.

The Anne Carson quote is obvs in Minecraft font - I also split up the lines, so that the left and right side loosely create their own sentences/ideas. "There is a theory that watching other people is good for you" and "Unbearable stories may cleanse you of your darkness." I wish I had been more careful with the contrast on 'yourself all', but oh well, we can just call it being difficult to read an experiential facet of the poem.

"Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone?" is a good fucking line, and manages to mirror both the commentary on us the viewers AND the experience of the creators AND the experience of the characters. We get to experience violence vicariously, the creators get to experience it with friends + in safety, and the characters (or character, I should say, just Grian left by the time you're reading this) are experiencing that low point totally alone.

Aside from the obvious fit, the Rosencrantz + Guildenstern lines stand in as a conversation between the viewers and the characters. The appraising description of kiling and dying beautifully makes way for a mournful interruption that no, fuck that, this isn't a game for us (with some obvious irony there).

Finally, I needed it to end funny; the whole thing is already more serious than it probably should've been. I like this joke because it's short, and it implies the aftermath in a comedic way. Picturing everyone spawning back into Hermitcraft, covered in blood, upset, but mostly with a profoundly awkward sense of 'well I fucked that one up. That got a bit more homoerotic than intended, and now every other shopping trip I have to make awkward eye contact with the person I mcMurdered."

Again, thank you so much for your ask and kind words! I'm looking forward to making a general guide video on web weaves one of these days :D

#salem tag #salem chatter #3lsmp #3lsmp meta #i am going to go pass out but i hope some of this is what you were hoping to hear about lol #salem answer

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archenemyintellegence · 2 years ago

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Reflection (rant) on art...

Had a chance to look back at the progress I've made on art while making an art summary post for this year. I am so surprised to see the improvement I've made in this year!

The biggest outcome from this year is seeing myself developing an artstyle that I truly love, which can express myself and also combine ideas in my mind. Here is some rant about the artstyle...

Last year, I invested some period of time to draw fanart for Yuma Uchida with his photo as reference. It was cool to replicate the photo with my drawing, but I wasn't satisfied with just that. I wanted to add warmth into his portrait. So I started to go beyond drawing something that makes sense. I started to add colors that I see and can never explain where they come from. Maybe they're extensions of my emotions, or maybe they're illusions formed by my thoughts, or maybe my eyes are built different. A thing that I can be sure is I always see those colors, but I always pretend that they never exist so I won't be "weird", like the way I hide those unexplainable ideas from people. I really don't remember why I believed that adding those mysterious colors can help adding warmth to my drawing but it worked. My raw, intense emotions have been added into the drawings, and they give warmth to the drawings.

This year, I tried to use this method of coloring without the reference that is exactly the same thing that I am drawing. It was trickier than doing it when drawing with photo reference because things can get really really wrong. The biggest L this year is that I scrapped a drawing that I took 120+ hours to draw because I found it impossible to manage. But I learned a lot from that drawing, including the relationships of colors, which helped me to learn more when observing the colors in real life. I went back and forth with my style and finally settled on the style that I yeeted the airbrush and all those layers with different effects, and only use one side of the color "square". An inspiration of the artstyle is Julio Reyes, a god-tier artist that I saw on instagram. I really don't know how he draw his works as I have little knowledge on tradition art and I have zero idea on egg tempera. But in his drawing it looks like he is weaving the colors together to form a picture, and I want to do the same. Another major inspiration is glitch art, which kinda explains the saturated colors in my drawing. I used to make a lot of zepeto edits back in the day I wasn't comfortable with drawing (you can view them here). This kinda explains why my drawing works well with glitchy stuff lol. Also, something my father told me has inspired my coloring choices too. I probably distorted the words of what he said to me heavily because it's from a long time ago but what I remembered is don't use black to shade. With this idea in mind, I discovered that there are actually lots of colors in "black" that I don't believe there is real "black" in this world. So I pushed this idea to the extreme and even avoided grey. This makes coloring becomes a braincell-burning activity for me but I really enjoy the results as it can truly reflect my ideas on my drawings.

I really can't believe that I used so many words to talk about coloring but I did. Another part that makes my new artstyle is minimalistic background. A reason for this is to strike balance in my drawing. I used to do background but I believe that it'll be too much going on if I color the subject with crazy colors. So it needs to be blank or very minimalistic. Also, I believe that blank contains strong meanings. First, with the blank, the subject can fill it with their aura to make their presence stronger and own the drawing. It's very vague so I probably won't explain more lol. Another meaning that the blank contains is that it is the opposite of everything that has been drawn on the canvas. Instead of trying to fill the canvas with details, it is better to perfect the subject that contains the part of the message that I am able to convey, and let the blank finish the rest of the message. I believe this way I can produce a fuller drawing.

The new artstyle reminds me of fashion magazine, which inspires me to start learning more about fashion and accessories recently. I'm really new to this kind of things but I can feel that it's already giving me a lot of inspiration. I believe keep on learning more about them can help me enrich my drawings. Also as there's now less distraction on my drawing, I need to improve in my anatomy and especially perspectives. The sense of 3d is always a weakness for me that I have zero sense of direction or even struggles to tell left or right. I hope it can be improved by a little bit so my drawings can look cooler. And I hope my colors can be improved next year! I really have no idea how it can be improved for now but I believe that I can do it, just like how the colors improved throughout this year. I hope my drawings can be better that I have the confidence to earn a living with them! (And yeah the lack of confidence is a problem I want to solve too...)

So many ranting lol. Here's a full (digital) drawing lore of me. I started to focus on drawing seriously when I started doing digital drawing so you can actually take it as my full drawing lore haha. One is 2021 and the other one is 2020.

#art summary

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fallout-boiiiiii · 2 years ago

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Wave four prehiatus

This wave isn’t set in stone, the phantom fifth wave will be when I actually hand create each shoe and that will be its final design. As I make them they’ll get their own post chronicling the design process.

A Split EP (2002)

This design is a new addition! Based on the first recorded work Fall Out Boy ever put out, a split EP with Project Rocket. The art itself is almost entirely white with a line each of lime green and gray. So the shoes are almost entirely white with minor gray and lime green accents to reflect that. I chose checkerboard for the quarters to keep the design simple and the Vans feature white drip as a highlight detail. The lace charm pictured is a clock gear, which matches the gear design to be painted onto the toe of the opposite shoe. These are inspired by the EP art of what looks like stage schematics. I’m unsure as of posting (11/29/22) if I want to keep the PR/FOB on the toe of the opposite shoe or if I’d rather write it somewhere else, like the heel or the sidewall.

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend (2003)

This is the same wave one base we saw before. For this one, I’ve added a fortune cookie lace charm to one shoe and a fortune patch that says “you’ll have a better life if you just stay home” to the other. These both play on the numerous fortunes and other scraps of paper seen on the album cover. The patch itself has the same sort of cynical, wry message the album gives off about being young, infatuated, and in the scene. The patch will go on the heel and on the opposite heel I’ll paint the lyric “this is the last song that I waste on you” from Parker Lewis Can’t Lose. On the seam of the toes I’ll paint the same sun ray like pattern seen on the album.

Take This to Your Grave (2003)

Simple lace charms on this one. A blue crystalline one to bring in the blue accent we were missing before, and a silver middle finger for the opposite shoe. Feels self explanatory. First names of the band members on the side stripe I may or may not keep, but it’s meant to reflect the line of text displaying their names on the album. On the heels I’ll paint “I read about the afterlife but// I never really lived more than an hour” from Saturday.

My Heart Will Always be the B-side to My Tongue (2004)

The detail additions of this one make it feel a lot more like the album it represents to me. One shoe will have a lace charm of a functioning anatomically correct gold heart locket pendant. The other has a red heart lace lock that I may or may not keep. On both toes, I’ll sew on a crochet heart patch like the one pictured. I’ll replace the laces to make them a light orange to match the text on the album art. On the heels of each shoe I’ll paint the lyric “wouldn’t know a good thing// if it came up and slit your throat” from My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon.

From Under the Cork Tree (2005)

The customization detail on this one that actually excited me most was replacing the Vans laces for ones that were the same shade of brighter yellow (as opposed to gold) but velvet. Need I say more. On one shoe there will be a key lace charm and on the other “misery loved me” from Dance, Dance painted on the side stripe. The shoe with the key will have “loaded god complex” from Sugar, We’re Going Down painted on the heel, and the shoe with the Dance, Dance lyric will have a broken heart patch sewn on the heel as well as a banner that says Fall Out Boy. On the tread, I’ll paint in white “take aim at myself//take back what you said” also from Sugar. Some of these details may be omitted when I physically make the shoes if I find the design to be too busy.

Infinity on High (2007)

This design has a lace charm for each shoe, a blue Saturn-like planet (to tie into the starry, planetary theme) and a silver lamb. Before anyone says anything, I know Franklin is not a lamb. All the sheep charms I could find were either ridiculously expensive or ugly. So lamb it is. I’m sure there’s symbolism in it anyway. On the back of one heel I’ll have the IOH moon and some stars (it says embroidered but that’s not a requirement). “Infinity on High” in the IOH cursive font will be painted on the side stripe of the opposite shoe.

Welcome to the New Administration Mixtape (2008)

Another new entry! The WTTNA mixtape was made by “CitizensFOB” (Citizens For Our Betterment) and hosted and mixed by Clinton Sparks for promotion of their upcoming album Folie a Deux. (It was one of many fun promo tactics for Folie- Fresh Only Bakery, anybody?) The art and promotion of the mixtape had a very political campaign vibe and imagery, which I tried to capture. The pointing fingers are not only pictured on the actual art, but are representative of the guys raising their hands in the air as pictured. The candy striping red of the quarters is meant to invoke a specific time period of politics while being a simple background. The eyestay features the same pattern as seen on the SRAR shoes, just to add texture. The shoe is red, white, and blue despite the brown tones of the art to capture the election feel. One shoe will have a VOTE charm. On the toes of both shoes will be a Stars and Stripes banner as pictured. On the heel of one will be the design of the CitizensFOB campaign button and on the other the Fall Out Boy banner as pictured on the cover.

Folie a Deux (2008)

You know how I mentioned earlier that this base stays mostly the same except for one change in wave four? That change is sewing a dark brown teddy material over the tongue of each shoe. The shoes will also have three lace charms, a gold Rx pill bottle on one shoe and a small bear and golden anchor on the other. The gold tones are to match the warm color scheme of the shoe. The pill bottle is a reference to the album name but also the America’s Suitehearts music video and 20 Dollar Nosebleed lyric references to Benzedrine. The bear is obvious, and the anchor is in reference to What a Catch, Donnie. On the heels of both shoes, in yellow, I’ll paint “detox just to retox” from Disloyal Order.

Believers Never Die: Volume One (2009)

More lace charms! These ones aren’t terribly deep. One is a coffin charm that can open to reveal a skeleton, and the other is a skull. I may switch the skull out to something else, that’s tbd. On the heels I’ll paint “tell rock and roll I’m alone again//I wanna put the Midwest home again” from Alpha Dog.

#fall out boy #fob #fob shoes #custom shoes #custom #my shoes #my art

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chloelucia13 · 5 years ago

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Chapter Three: Holly Jolly

Pairing: None for the moment (current Jonathan Byers x platonic!reader

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seemed that until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: What you had seen the night before had haunted you, and you thought what happened with Jonathan was going to be the worst thing to happen that day. But what they found in the quarry decided to overshadow anything else that happened.

Warnings: angst, fluff, language, some horror elements, some drama, basically what you expect from me and Stranger Things

Word Count: 2370

A/N: Here’s the next part! Hope you guys like it! Here’s part one and part two!

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You jumped in your seat, your hand jolting forward and connecting harshly with your jaw. You let out a hum of pain and rubbed over the spot, looking up at your friends around the table.

“You okay?” Nancy asked, leaning over and touching your shoulder.

“You seem like you were pretty spaced out,” Steve teased, chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to clear the thoughts from it. “Just thinking.”

“What about? That Byers guy you seemed so head-over-heels for?” Carol chimed in, letting out a laugh.

“He’s just my friend-”

“And Steve and Nancy are just friends too,” Tommy added, joining in with Carol on making you even more miserable than you already were.

“Alright, cut it out,” Steve broke in finally. “God, you guys are fucking annoying.”

You offered him a shy smile before looking around the lunch table. “Where’s Barb?” you asked after a moment, earning groans from Carol and Tommy.

“If you weren’t so dazed out, you would’ve heard that she skipped school today,” Carol grumbled.

“Skipped school? That doesn’t sound like Barb.”

“Who knows. Maybe she changed,” Tommy insisted, clearly wanting to drop the subject. You took the hint and stayed silent.

However, no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself from drifting away into your thoughts, they lured you in. The blaring radio and the flashing lights. The face in the wall.

You couldn’t tell anyone about it. No one would believe you, they’d think you were going crazy like how Joyce was. Jonathan didn’t even believe his own mother, why would he believe you?

As soon as the bell rang, you shot up from your seat and slung your bag over your shoulder, hurrying out of the cafeteria and leaving everyone behind. Nancy caught up, though, and tried her hardest to keep up with you. “Hey, are you okay? Really?” she inquired.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I just... I didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”

“Alright.” She let out a sigh. “How’s Dustin?”

You shrugged. “He seems fine. Worried, definitely, but nothing out of the ordinary. How’s Mike?”

“You’d probably know better than I do. He just seems... Off. Nervous. I guess that’s warranted, though.”

I guess I’d be nervous too if one person went missing and another one appeared, you thought to yourself. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stopped in front of her classroom, offering you a smile. See you after school?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. See you then.”

***

You honestly couldn’t tell if school sped by or if it inched along, but you knew that you were relieved when the final bell of the day rang. You packed everything up and hurried out of the school and over to the parking lot, looking for some silent refuge.

Your heart leaped to your throat when you saw Jonathan walking out of the school and up to his car. You immediately hurried over to chew him out, your eyes growing wide when you saw Steve and his group lounging on Jonathan’s car, along with a girl you didn’t know.

“Hey man,” Steve announced, walking closer.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan voiced, tensing up. You stepped closer to him, making yourself visible to him.

“Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.”

“We’ve heard great things,” Carol hummed, smirking.

“Yeah, sounds cool,” Tommy added.

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as... Connoisseurs of art,” Steve urged, stepping ever closer.

“What is this about?” you demanded, glancing around the whole group.

“Trust me, Y/N, you’re gonna want to see this-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan cut in, trying to push through the crowd to get to his car.

“Oh no? Oh...” Steve hummed as Tommy ripped Jonathan’s bag away from him and tossed it to Steve who immediately began rifling through the contents.

“Steve!” you scolded, trying to reach out and grab the bag from him.

“Please just give me my bag,” Jonathan begged. “No, just...”

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide,” Steve hummed as if it was a completely casual observation.

“Here we go,” Steve hummed, pulling a stack of pictures from his bag and flipping through them. “Oh man.”

“Let me see!” Tommy flipped through the pictures, his eyes wide. “Dude.”

“Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all,” Carol scoffed

“I was looking for my brother,” Jonathan claimed, turning to you. “Y/N, please-”

“No.” Steve guffawed. “No, this is called stalking.”

You looked confusedly at Jonathan, body starting to shake with worry.

“What’s going on?” Nancy piped up, stepping into the group.

“Here’s the starring lady,” Tommy teased.

“What?”

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol exclaimed, a nefarious smirk on her face. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.” She handed a particular photo to Nancy.

Steve clicked his tongue. “See, you can tell he knows it was wrong, but... Man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into ‘em. You know, they just can’t help themselves.” Steve patted Jonathan’s shoulder and fussed with his collar.

“What the fuck is going on?” you shouted finally, reaching over and grabbing the pictures.

“Y/N, please don’t-” Jonathan begged.

Your heart sunk to your shoes as you saw what exactly the pictures contained. Nancy at Steve’s house, getting thrown into the pool, getting undressed. “Oh my god,” you choked out. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. “This is where you were last night? While I was at your own brother’s fucking vigil?”

“Look, you even got your own little girlfriend to hate you,” Tommy chided.

“I am not his fucking girlfriend,” you hissed, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“So,” Steve continued. “We’ll just have to take away his toy.” Steve held up Jonathan’s camera.

“Steve...” you and Nancy voiced.

“Please, not the camera,” Jonathan pleaded, his shoulders hunched as Tommy began to hold him back.

Steve stepped forward. “No, no, wait, wait... Tommy, Tommy,” he rushed, taking the camera from him. Steve planted a smile on his face and faced Jonathan. “It’s okay. Here you go man.”

He held the camera out, waiting until Jonathan moved forward to let it fall from his hands and tumble onto the asphalt. Tommy laughed maniacally as Jonathan rushed to try and catch it, save it, do anything.

“Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.”

“Boo,” Tommy spat in Jonathan’s face, following behind Steve.

Carol took the photos in her hands and ripped them apart, letting the shreds flutter to the ground. “Bye,” she hummed, stepping over him and strutting off.

Nancy, however, lingered for a moment before kneeling down and examining the photos.

“Hey Nance! Come on!” Steve shouted. Nancy gave Jonathan a look before gathering the shreds of a few photos and following behind the group.

After everyone was gone, you slowly dropped to the ground and helped Jonathan pick up the shattered scraps of his camera. “Y/N, I-” Jonathan began.

You just shook your head, shoveling the pieces into his hands before getting up and leaving.

***

As you drove home tears streaking down your face, you remembered that Dustin had told you that morning that he and the group were going to bike around and look for Will. At the last moment, you turned onto Mike’s street and parked along his house, hopping out of the car and hurrying over to the power lines you knew they always met at.

“Guys! Wait up!” you shouted, stopping them just before they sped off.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mike shouted back.

“Were you crying?” Lucas chimed in.

“Can we talk about that later? I just wanna get my mind off of things. Can I come with you guys?” you explained.

They all exchanged a look. “Nancy’s bike is in the garage,” Mike admitted after a moment.

After you had gotten the bike out of the garage, you all had sped off through the field and up to to the trails in the woods. Once the terrain became too rocky and expansive, you all walked your bikes along the trail.

“So are you ever gonna tell us why you were crying or are you just gonna keep that a secret,” Dustin pushed.

“It’s just... Something you don’t need to worry about,” you explained away, habitually scrubbing at your cheeks to make sure the tear stains weren’t there.

“Come on. Something has to be bothering you if you wanted to spend time with us instead of Jonathan,” Lucas teased.

You let out a sigh and chewed on your lower lip. “Well I can’t exactly hang out with Jonathan because...”

“Because he’s the reason you’re crying?”

You nodded slowly. “Besides. I need to spend more time with you guys anyway. And make sure you guys are safe.”

“We’re always safe!” Dustin argued.

“Yeah, because wandering around looking for Will in the middle of the woods is totally safe.” You let out a sigh. “Anyway, enough about me. What happened at school with you guys? How’d you get that scrape, Mike?”

“I just fell at recess,” he explained hesitantly.

“Mike, friends tell the truth,” Eleven explained slowly.

“Exactly, El,” you agreed, offering her a smile.

Mike let out a sigh. “I was tripped by this mouth-breather named Troy, okay?”

“The same Troy with the dickwad dad?”

“That’d be the one.”

“Mouth-breather?” El questioned.

“Yeah, you know. A dumb person. A knucklehead.”

“Knucklehead?”

“I don’t think you should explain a slang term by using another slang term,” you teased.

***

The five of you had been walking for what seemed to be hours. Your hands and face were numb from the cold, and your whole body was aching from standing for so long. Everyone seemed to be riddled with exhaustion, as there was little to no sound coming from any of you.

Finally, El came to a stop.

In front of the Byer’s house (and you couldn’t help but notice that Jonathan’s car was nowhere to be found).

“Here,” El stated.

“Yeah, this is where Will lives,” Mike explained, confusion lacing his voice.

“Hiding.”

“No, no, this is where he lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?”

“What are we doing here?” Lucas huffed, letting his bike fall to the ground.

“She said he’s hiding here.”

“Um... No.”

“I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing-” Dustin began.

“That’s exactly what we did! I told you she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”

Mike sighed and turned to Eleven. “Why did you bring us here?” he asked, only for El to stutter in response.

“Guys, maybe she’s right,” you interjected. “Yesterday, I came over here looking for Jonathan and something... really weird happened. T-The lights were flickering and the radio kept turning on and off and-” You let out a breath. “I saw a face come through the wall.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“God, are you going crazy too?” Lucas grumbled. “Let’s not waste our time with this.”

“What do you think we should do then?” Mike argued.

“Call the cops, like we should have done yesterday.”

“We are not calling the cops!”

“Hey guys?” Dustin spoke up, too quiet for anyone to notice except for you.

“Guys!” you shouted finally, pointing to the police sirens that were growing closer and closer.

“Will...” Mike voiced, prompting you all to hop on your bikes.

Panic riddled your body as you pedaled as fast as you could to keep up with the ambulances and police cars and firetrucks that were speeding to the scene. You had abandoned your bike as soon as you were within 100 feet of the emergency vehicles, opting instead to sprint the rest of the distance. You and the kids clung to the back of the firetruck, peeking your heads around to see what was going on.

Bile bubbled in your stomach and up to your throat as you saw them lug a body onto a stretcher and pull it out of the water. That damned red vest stood out so starkly against his pale, dead skin that you could’ve sworn it was a hallucination. God, you wished so badly it was a hallucination.

You could faintly hear the kids talking and the sirens around you wailing, but everything sounded as if you were underwater. Drowning.

Stumbling away, you let out a silent sob. “I-I... I’ve got to go,” you choked out before spinning on your heel and sprinting down the road that bordered the trail from which you came. Though you were going as fast as your body permitted you to go, you still felt as if you were running through concrete, everything moving in slow motion except for your heart, which was racing a mile a minute.

You had weaved your way through the trees and back to the Byers’ house, immediately crashing to your knees in the harsh gravel. You lungs begged for air but all you could do was suck in harsh gasps in-between the painful sobs that shook your whole body.

Headlights appeared in your peripheral, and you turned your head to see Jonathan and Joyce pulling up to the house. Behind them was Chief Hopper in his car.

As soon as Jonathan saw you in the yard, he haphazardly parked his car and got out before rushing over to you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you,

Your arms snaked around his neck as you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I’m so, so sorry,” you choked out, rambling and apologizing profusely.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Jonathan pulled away slightly, taking your face in his hands and forcing you to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head slightly before looking over to see Hopper and Joyce walking over to you two. “I think we should all talk. Inside,” Hopper stated gently.

Jonathan nodded and helped you to your feet. You clutched his arm tightly as you all walked into the house, whispering a broken “I’m sorry” one last time.

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 5 years ago

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Tues 27 Aug

Louis: "are you quite finished? All right HOLD MY DRINK..." holy fuck y'all. Okay so quick recap, promo for Louis' new single just went from zero to one thousand, it's (aptly) called Kill My Mind and it's already killing us. Please just take it as read that I'm still having a full on conniption about every scrap of this but it'll be 5k if I actually emote even a small percentage of what I'm feeling. So: first the song was registered (co-writers are Jamie Hartman and Sean Douglas) and then Louis tweeted "Here we go again..." He liked a reply quoting Clouds ("another go round for all my friends") but in fact was referencing Back To You as a clue- streaming BTY on spotify revealed it had a new short video attached of black and white footage of Louis with lettering, BTY title stuff, but with red accents picking out KMM. Why BTY? Maybe because he's close to hitting a billion streams on spotify, this should tip it over, the brilliance... as for why that single I feel like it being the only one that the title info actually has the letters KMM in it is possibly a significant factor. Anyway, his website also updated to a red and black theme, and after giving us like an hour to freak out Louis came back and tweeted simply "KMM"; right after that the cover art with (not yet active) pre-save and purchase links was found, they'd made the link and not shared it yet. And apparently didn't intend to whoops! It's back down for now and probably someone got in trouble as they kind of should: if you're gonna set us hunting for things be prepared to have us, you know, finding things. Remember the hidden TOU director's cut though? There's so much we aren't finding right now probably... (overwhelmed tears) Anyway the cover feels like it goes with the TOU cover (LT1 theeeme) but features a close and intimate and soft but mildly confrontational Louis picture where TOU was more remote and introspective feeling, and loud high contrast red and black and white in place of the TOU cream tones, in summary my crystal ball says you're all correct and it's gonna be the "loud and in your face" pop punk banger we were promised and have been waiting on (oh yeah and we're all gonna die)!

The fan who won the comic relief breakfast with Louis revealed that they've known the single title since then, then retweeted the "took some time cos I’ve ran out of energy of playing someone I’ve heard I’m supposed to be" lyric tweet. Louis said that he will play "4 or 5 new songs in Madrid," one will be released before then, and the album will have "10, 12, 14" songs, "not decided just yet." We learned that the Madrid set will be televised, thank god, at some point we'll have HQ video of it. Jordan Green said the BTY video footage wasn't his which was weird but then he was like oh wait no it is! Lol. I take this to mean it's his footage but they didn't have him do the edit as he usually does. LTHQ posted a pic of Louis in studio featuring (well I say featuring, spotted with eagle eyes more like) a joint and a Winnie the Pooh mug; the cup features a stuffed bear on one side and a bee on the other.

In short, it's only day one (1) and already Louis' promo, again, looks to be absolutely on point, flawlessly coordinated, and so perfectly Louis: smart, interesting, a little mischievous, and catering to the best parts of a fandom they clearly know inside and out, rewarding our attention to detail and desire to make connections and decipher clues. I feel (mutually) respected and seen and fed and I absolutely LOVE IT. I cannot wait to see what comes next, it's going to be amazing...

AND other things happened today as well, can you believe? Harry, who was not in fact quite finished, followed the "Tina she's gay" fan (who was excited about their coming out story being featured in Rolling Stone, a privilege usually reserved for famous musicians), and HSHQ made an attempt to remind us that the gucci campaign is still a thing that exists by posting a pretty picture of Harry glowing in the afternoon light of the Italian countryside. More importantly we got an 'outtake' (??!?) from the RS shoot of him barefoot on a slippery ledge by the water in his fetching shorts suit and cropped sweater and feathered rich widow chapeau that's absolutely to die for.

The Liam charity drive reached goal well before his birthday (the 29th) and the man himself retweeted the announcement, adding "thank you so much this is truly amazing."

Live Lounge is coming soon and there's a TBA spot Sept 16 and everyone is eyeing it for their fave but no news yet, and the SNL new season is also coming soon and has performer slots open; Niall responded to a tweet about how nice it would be to see him on the Nov 2 SNL with "it would indeed." He also tweeted "what's your name," a Nice To Meet Ya tease one assumes, and, never one to like things by halves, gushed about the new Taylor Swift song, making TWO posts telling us it is "important," "a classic," and "will stand the test of time." "Thank you Niall!" Taylor posted. The Omega Masters ft Niall opens tomorrow, and he is there already, and met some happy fans and took pics.

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goldenwitherphoenix13 · 4 years ago

Text

Smash-Ronpa was ended, like ages ago and the creator probably has little to no interest in it anymore.

But the notes were enough for me.

Enough for me to make art of all the casualties before the 5th and final trial that was never releasedand only seeable throughthe notes on Smash-Ronpas page.

Anyways, let's just get into it, I'm sorry if I ramble.

Um... spoiler. There is a victim missing and for good reason. If you read the notes, you can put the pieces together. I can't cut it so you don't get spoiled so.... warning ya here.

Its not in order of death, just to note.

Notice anything weird? I may of added a few... personal details based on the notes that the rice diety left behind for us all. ÒwÓ

I must say, the notes were very interesting, especially the alternate mastermind idea they had before they chose differently. Or... did they choose after the fact? Who knows!?

My point is, this blog was great while it lasted and sure did have potential. I loved every minute of it... despite being late to the party... very late to the party... like, only finding the blog about a year ago, late to the party... man I suck.

Anyway I'm... not sure if I should tag them, but I will tag.

@random-select since that's creators side blog for Smash bros stuff

@smash-ronpa since that's the specific side blog this is even based on.

Now I'd tag the creators main blog, but the username is too confusing and I just physically can't. I'll edit this later with their tag if I manage it, but thats all for now.

All I have left is some personal thoughts on this god dam picture and my life choices.

If anyone asks, Megamans hiding a bunch of robot scrap under that marvellous cloak of his and Dark Pits lower half is nothing but blood because how do you draw ghosts of people who were crushed to death or disembodied?

Either way, I won't tag you in future Rice. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Bye!

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

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Male hermit crab mer x reader (nsfw). Mermay story #3

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Eep, sorry it's a bit later than I wanted, and it's technically not May any more, but I got sick, and I'm still writing those last few hand-written stories for you.

This story got a great reaction from my Patreon supporters, and he’s been a subject of discussion over on my Patreon discord server too! I’m really excited to introduce him to you folks now too!

***

To say that you’d needed money was an understatement.

You’d quit your job at the supermarket because of your arsehole manager, and your bank account was down to single digits as the start of the summer rolled by. You realised you had to do something before you starved to death and couldn’t make your rent. As if by divine providence, your eye caught an advertisement in the window of the local newsagent’s as you went to buy a pint of milk on evening.

Yours was one of the parts of the city that was less populated by humans and more by non-humans, and as such, you’d become a familiar face to the minotaur who ran the shop. With a soft smile, he watched you staring wistfully at the advert on the back of the door, and when you’d not moved for a good few minutes, he said in his big, deep, gentle voice, “You thinking of doing it?”

“Hmm? Oh…” you said, startling and glancing round at him before letting your eyes return to the poster.

With a picture of a wide sandy beach, the “Starfall Springs’ Summer Kids’ Activities Camp” was advertised in bold colours, promising ‘activities and games for all abilities, treasure hunts, learn to swim, surf, snorkel, and even ride, play a variety of games, music, and take part in story telling, basic survival and outdoor education courses, and art classes’.

“I’m not a kid,” you snorted playfully, and the minotaur laughed.

He flicked his white ear and said, “If you’re looking to get involved though, my cousin is running one of the outdoor classes and he’s one of the organisers. He said they’re kind of understaffed this year.”

“Oh man,” you groaned. “I could use the money, for sure, but I can’t teach swimming or bug hunting or whatever…”

“You could take the art classes, or just help out with some of the other activities?” he suggested. “I actually did it a couple of years ago, and it was really fun. They focus a lot on breaking down barriers between the species, and trying to get everyone involved. I think you’d be great at it. Let me give you my cousin’s number…”

He scribbled down a phone number and the name ‘Dane’, and handed it to you on a scrap of paper.

“Thanks,” you said, gratitude swelling inside you, and no small degree of hope.

With the final pay cheque that came in from your former job just in time, you payed your rent for the month and bought a ticket to Starfall Springs. You’d negotiated free accommodation in conversation with Dane, by agreeing to take on two more activities than would be normally expected of an employee. He actually agreed to pay you for the additional activities, so you were more than willing to do it. Dane seemed like a nice guy too, and he said he’d meet you at the train station and drive you over to the camp.

When you got there, you found a huge, white minotaur with a traditional ring through his black nose, wearing a baggy t-shirt and baggy football shorts, his massive hooves clopping noisily on the concrete of the station as he stepped forward to help you with your bag.

“Here, let me,” he grinned, holding out his other hand for you to shake it. “I’m Dane,” he added.

You introduced yourself and thanked him for his help.

“No problem!” he laughed, shouldering your massive sports bag as if it weighed nothing at all, and leading you out towards the station exit where a huge pickup truck waited in the sunny parking lot beyond. He set your bag down in the bed of the truck and opened the passenger door for you to climb in. “I need to do some food shopping on our way back; I hope you don’t mind? I thought maybe you could pick some stuff up for the week too…”

You nodded and settled in as he fired up the truck and drove from the station on the outskirts of the old town towards the centre. He explained where things were and pointed out some landmarks, and before you knew it, he’d pulled to a halt in the little car park at the back of the grocery store in the centre.

You followed the massive minotaur inside, his shock of thick, ice-white hair gleaming in the mid-afternoon sun, and the moment the quaint little bell above the door dinged at your entrance, he waved merrily at the gnoll behind the counter.

“Hiya, Sorrel,” he called and she beamed him a toothy grin. To your surprise, he introduced you as well, and added, “We managed to get ourselves another helper down at the beach camp.”

“Oh brilliant!” she said. “I’ll be bringing Ginger over for her first day tomorrow. She can’t wait to get involved in the sports, and honestly, the little scamp is climbing up the walls… I can’t wait for you lot to tire her out for me!”

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little knot of apprehension starting to form in your gut. You'd never done anything quite like this before, but you were pretty confident you would do alright. How hard could it be after all?

You knew that the camp provided lunch every day, but you’d have to get your own breakfast and supper, so you stocked up, and when you were both done, you and Dane headed over to the coast.

A gasp of awe and surprise left you as the pickup rumbled down the track and turned the corner to reveal the wide, sandy beach stretching out for miles before the softly lapping waves just kissed it at the shore. The tide was out, and wading birds dabbled at the far off tide line.

“Holy…” you breathed, and Dane chuckled.

The camp’s headquarters were set back from the beach itself, and it appeared to have been the old coastguards’ station before it had been converted into the activity centre. Not far off was a ramshackle old beach hut, rather larger than you were used to and painted in faded pastel colours which looked like the paint had seen one too many winters before being refreshed.

Outside the hut was the most remarkable merfolk creature you’d ever seen.

With a large, vivid orange shell that shimmered like mother of pearl, was what appeared to be ostensibly a hermit crab, except that he had the torso of a human man. His skin was pale, his body slim, and his hair was a brilliant, flaming red, tied up in a scruffy bun with sections flopping about in the stiff breeze that blew in off the distant sea. He seemed absorbed in the humble task of hanging shirts up to dry on a little washing line which was attached at one end to his wooden shack and at the other to a small pole driven into the sand a short distance away.

“Ah!” the white minotaur chuckled as he parked up and saw you staring at the hermit crab mer with astonishment written clear across your face. “That’d be Leo. He’s the camp organiser, and the one who started it all off five years ago.” Dane continued to watch your face and laughed again. “Never seen an arthropodal mer, I take it,” he snorted.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t. I didn’t even know that they existed… I mean… that’s really cool?”

“I’ll tell him you think he’s cool,” Dane said as he hopped out and closed the door. “He’ll love that.”

“Oh god, don’t embarrass me on my first day here…”

Dane’s booming laughter made the merman look up and tilt his head curiously to one side.

You saw as he turned that he had two pairs of rather chunky, armoured, articulated legs which supported most of the weight of his shell, and two larger, clawed legs which he used to propel himself forward. In the same way that a drider’s upper body began at the hips, so the ‘arthropodal’ crab-like mer’s human torso rose from the hips to reveal a lean upper body that made you want to bite your lip and look away. Or maybe just keep staring.

He waved and a broad, almost goofy grin split across his face. “Hey!” he called towards the pair of you.

“Alright?” Dane bellowed at him across the distance.

Leo nodded and then turned his gaze to you.

“You wanna go meet him now while I take the stuff into the house?” Dane asked, already with his huge hands around the handles of about six grocery bags.

“Um… sure?” you said.

Trotting down the little boardwalk path through the narrow, grassy dune, you felt a bit silly, but the movement burned off most of the adrenaline and by the time you’d reached him, you felt pretty confident. “Hi,” you said as he turned to face you, and you realised as he did that actually he was quite tall.

He stuck out his hand and grinned, revealing little dimples in his pale, immensely freckled cheeks, and, craning your neck up, you shook his hand. “I’m Leo,” he said. “You must be the extra helper that Dane said he’d managed to rustle up from the city?”

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly tacking your name on the end.

Leo released his grip on you, and at that moment, his hair came loose from the bun and blew right across his face. The hair-tie fell to the sand a little way away, and as he swept his hair back off his sharply handsome face, you both bent to pick it up at the same time.

And inevitably, you cracked heads.

At the impact, you toppled backwards onto the hard sand, and he yipped in embarrassment, darting forwards. “Oh gosh!” he gasped. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Here…” and he held out his hand to you again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

As you laughed it off, rubbing your forehead, you looked up at him and saw that his pale skin had flushed a dark red, and that his rich brown eyes were shining almost to the point of tears. “It’s fine,” you said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Let’s hope I’m less clumsy tomorrow,” he said. “I wouldn’t count on it though,” he added. “Ugh. Anyway, I should let you get settled in and stuff… you know.” The blush darkened even further, and you had to chuckle.

“Sure, ok. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, deciding to cut the poor guy some slack. For what was essentially an armoured tank on legs, he seemed surprisingly awkward and shy.

He nodded and as you walked away and turned to glance back once you hit the sand dune, you saw him smack his own forehead with the palm of his hand and shake his head, muttering, “Idiot!”

You pursed your lips and suppressed a good-hearted snicker, heading into the former coastguards’ headquarters to unpack and start thinking about some supper.

Next day saw the arrival of the first groups of children, and before they got there, all the staff for the camp assembled over breakfast to talk through the last minute details which required attention.

You would be helping in the first week of activities with the children who wanted to learn to ride, and the four centaurs who had volunteered their services for the project told you what they’d need from you. As it turned out, they wouldn’t need much, just help with tacking them up and getting the kids sorted at the start and end of the hour long lesson. You’d be needed to put out cones and poles for them to walk around or over, but other than that, you got to sit on the side and watch for a while.

After that, you would be heading over to help Leo with some of the treasure hunt and beach activities.

Your first morning passed in a whirl of activity, but luckily none of the children fell off the centaurs, and you made a particular friendship with a very cheeky and very tiny Shetland centaur named Sinnavo. She pushed her bushy blonde hair out of her face at the end of the class, once her rider had dismounted and headed over to her next session, and hissed, “Bloody hell; that human was a right little shit!”

“So much for improving inter-species relations…” you muttered out of the corner of your mouth and she snorted in delight, pawing the ground.

“Yeah, right? Anyway, that’s me done for the day. Enjoy your afternoon, my lovely! And do me a favour?”

“Sure?”

“Count how many times Crabcakes over there blushes, will you?”

“‘Crabcakes?’” you asked, eyebrows skyrocketing as you followed her gaze to the hermit crab mer who was currently corralling children of all races and species into a tight bunch so he could explain the rules of the treasure hunt.

The tiny, sassy little centaur grinned. “Well, it was that or ‘Leonardo da Pinchy, but he really hates that one.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, stifling laughter behind your hand as Leo looked up at you, a clipboard in his hands and a suddenly suspicious look on his handsome face.

As you said your goodbyes to her and headed over, he pouted. “She called me Crabcakes, didn’t she?”

“Maybe?”

Blush one.

He rolled his beautiful eyes. “She knows I hate that, but I call her ‘Haystack Hair’, so I guess we’re even.”

“Does none of the species here get along?” you asked, only half joking, and he laughed.

“She’s been helping out with the Summer Camp since the very beginning, and she’s one of my dearest friends. Don’t worry. It’s… It’s just this ongoing thing we have. Ignore it. And… please don’t call me Crabcakes.”

You crossed your fingers over your heart, and the grin you got from him in response was enough to stall its regular rhythm.

The more time you spent with him, the more fun you seemed to have.

As he worked with the much younger children, he became bubbly and animated, and all his awkward nerves seemed to melt away. It was a delight to watch him working with them, encouraging them, emboldening them, and making them laugh with his silly expressions and goofy behaviour. He was always supportive and attentive, but he brooked no nonsense either. The group you had towards the end of the week had a gnoll with cerebral palsy and a young lizardfolk child who needed a special beach wheelchair, but he made sure they were included in every activity, and from the looks on their faces as he took his time with them, you knew they were having the time of their lives.

Human children and half-bloods, avians and felines, orcs and werewolves, disabled or not, were all allowed to be themselves, and for the most part, everyone got along. It was amazing, and you’d never seen or heard of the likes back in the city, and it gave you a thrill that seemed to set the marrow of your bones alight every time you woke in the morning and got ready for a new day.

You had Friday afternoon off, and as the last of the children left, one writhing and screaming and begging to be allowed to stay for the next week, you saw Leo stagger slightly where he stood on the beach.

Frowning, you stood and went down to meet him. “You ok?” you asked.

He laughed nervously. His cheeks were now a little sunburnt, and you'd lost count of the blushes by Tuesday morning, but you thought he looked a little pale underneath the pinkish tinge. “I… I feel a bit squiffy, that’s all… I’m good. I think… I think I might need to eat something though. Or drink.”

“Too much sun? Maybe drink first then eat?” you suggested. “You stay put and I’ll grab you a lemonade and one of those seaweed and fish snacks.”

His answering smile was so sweet that you almost reached up and kissed him, but you stopped yourself in time. You didn’t know him all that well, despite hanging out almost every lunchtime. At the end of the day he was always the last one packing up and the last one to go home, but when he did, that was it. He seemed intensely private and quiet, valuing his alone time as much as the time he spent entertaining the kids in the Summer Camp.

And you admired that about him. He knew when he had reached his limits and, shy and retiring though he was, he was not afraid to say that he needed to head off and recharge. To your relief, the other camp staff respected that too, and wished him a goodnight, but you secretly wished each time that he’d stay for just a little longer, so that you could see him out of the context of the camp’s structure.

Returning with the drink and snack, you found that he’d made his way a little further down the sandy beach towards the shore, his shell leaving a deep furrow in the hard sand as it dragged behind him. You wondered suddenly if it was particularly burdensome for him.

“Leo?” you called and he stopped, just with his pointed, crablike toes dipped in the shallowest of the calm waves.

He turned, the wind tugging playfully at his auburn hair, and your feet faltered. He was beautiful, in an androgynous, fairytale kind of way. “Thank you,” he said, taking the bottle from you and draining half of it in one go. He looked at the snack and said in a slightly vague voice, “My favourite…”

You grinned. “I noticed you always pick them at lunch time,” you admitted.

He smiled and said, “Thank you. I’m… I’m…” and then he tailed off with a sigh, turning to look back at the sea without finishing his sentence.

“Leo?” you asked after a long pause.

With his crab legs as they were at the moment, he towered over you at maybe seven or even eight feet tall, and the only part of him that you could reach was the ‘shoulder’ of his crab’s body where it joined his human torso. He was wearing a plain red t-shirt that day and the breeze made it ripple softly, revealing the pale skin of his upper half every now and again.

As you touched him, he jumped slightly, and then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m… I’m not very good with people…”

“I think you’re amazing,” you blurted. “I mean, you’re so good with all the kids and stuff, and they all loved the activities you organise…”

His smile was sad this time, and it made something crack inside you to see it on his handsome face which, until the end of the week’s activities, had so frequently been illuminated with his brilliant, happy laugh.

Leo swallowed nervously, turning the wrapped snack over in his hands without opening it, toying with it as if maybe you’d forget about him if he stayed like that long enough. Eventually, however, he huffed a shy laugh and said, “I mean… outside of that. I ‘get’ kids. I know how to make them happy. I know what to say to them. They’re simple. It’s the adults I don’t understand. I get…” he tucked his long hair behind his freckled ear and flushed. “I get nervous. I say stupid things…” He shot you a look and added, “I crack heads with them…”

You had to laugh, and at the sound of it, the nerves seemed to dissipate a little. “I think you’re doing just fine, Leo. And you get me, anyway. Although I’ve always been told I’m a bit of a child still…” you added playfully.

He laughed. “Thank you.”

“Listen, I know you tend to keep to yourself in the evenings, but are you coming to the barbecue tonight? Dane said it’s gonna be on the beach…”

Leo looked at you and licked his lips. “Are you going?”

You nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll come for a bit.”

Impulsively, you reached and took his hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before letting go and turning away. “Looking forward to it then,” you said as you left him in the waves to recharge a bit.

The torches which Dane had stuck into the sand flickered and blazed in the wind, and the tide, which had crept up the beach as the evening had slunk in, formed a beautiful backdrop to the party. The other camp staff were all there, from the centaurs to the drider and werewolf who had taken the outdoor and wildlife activities, to the naga who had led the more arty classes, and, lastly, Leo arrived just as the food was deemed ready.

He snuck in at the edge of the group and touched your shoulder lightly.

“Hey, you made it!” you grinned, and he nodded bashfully.

“Leo!” the naga yelled, raising his beer over the flickering flames in the pit at the centre of the ring of eclectic stools and stumps for sitting on.

“Hey,” Leo mumbled, and then to you he hissed, “Any second now, someone is going to make a ‘coming out of his shell’ comment, I bet you.”

“What do you bet me?” you countered playfully, and Leo blinked.

“What?”

“What are the stakes?”

“Uh…”

You chuckled and said quickly, “Ok, if someone says it, I’ll come for a walk with you along the beach to get you away from everyone. How does that sound?”

Before he could respond, the werewolf on the far side howled, “Look who's come out of his shell for the evening!”

And you and Leo burst out laughing, much to everyone’s surprise.

“You’re on,” Leo said. “Let me grab some food first, ok?”

You watched the strange way he moved, his heavy claws tugging his body and shell forwards, and a million questions burned in your mind: what did his body look like inside the shell? Did he ever leave his shell? Did he spend more time in the sea than on land normally? Did he have gills to breathe like other mer, or could he hold his breath like a selkie for ages? Where did he get a shell that big from?

You were still pondering your questions when he returned with a fish finger sandwich in one hand, and he cocked his head curiously in the way that he had which reminded you of a little puppy. “Everything alright?” he asked.

“I…” you faltered, and now it was your turn to be awkward. “I was just thinking, I guess…”

He snorted, the gesture accompanied by a lopsided smirk, and he said, “You’ll have to share some of those thoughts on our little walk, I suppose. Do you want to go now?”

“You don’t mind eating and walking at the same time?”

“Nope,” he said.

And without really excusing yourself from the milling group of other camp staff, the two of you headed down the beach together.

“So…” he said after a little while of walking in silence while he ate. “What got you so curious?”

“Oh…” you said. “I… I guess… I mean… I’ve lived in the city most of my life and while my two best friends are actually non-human, I… I’ve never actually met a merfolk before this week.”

He looked down at you and shrugged. “Makes sense. And you’ve got questions, right?”

“Yeah…” you muttered. “But I don’t know what’s, like, rude to ask or not.”

To your surprise, he barked a laugh, tossing his head back so that his long red hair fell down his back and caught in the wind. “Ask away. You can’t be more awkward than me, or even some of the kids for that matter. Unless it’s about my junk, I’ve probably heard it before from the kids.”

“Oh my god,” you blushed. “No, it’s not… I mean… I hadn’t thought about…” But you definitely had…

He raised an eyebrow at you, and in that moment you saw a whole new side to him. Mercifully, however, he let it lie.

You began your tirade of questions, and it turned out that his body under the shell was soft. Since his kind used the shells as protection, he had no need for armour plating like he had on his legs. Sometimes he did leave the shell, but mostly he had no need to.

When it came to asking about time spent on land or in the sea, he smiled wistfully. “I love the land,” he said. “Well, I mean, I love the beach. I’ve never actually been into town or anything.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “You try dragging this shell up the cliff path and see how far you get… and I’m not going without it…”

“Naked, you mean,” you laughed, and despite the way the moonlight washed most of the colour away, you could see the blush very clearly.

You paused, nearing a pile of rocks at the furthest end of the crescent shaped beach, and picked up a tiny cockle shell, rinsing the sand out in the water. Leo watched you and when you turned to look up at him, he frowned slightly, curiously.

“Where do you get your shells from?” you asked, turning the tiny shell over in your hand. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen one like yours before…”

He smiled. “There are some big creatures out there,” he said, staring at the blackness of the water, the tips of the waves silvered by moonlight.

“Yours matches your hair and your legs,” you said, eyeing the orange of his armour plating.

Leo’s flush was so deep that you almost felt the heat of it radiating out from his cheeks, and he turned away.

“What?” you said.

“It’s… Nothing…” he mumbled.

“No, go on,” you insisted. “If I said something wrong, you should tell me…”

“You didn’t,” he said, still looking away, the curtain of his hair half hiding his face. “It’s…”

“It’s what? Is it super personal to comment on someone’s shell? Is that it?”

He nodded.

“Ah. Well,” you breezed, “I do like it. I can’t hide that I think it’s beautiful, and it suits you, so… yeah.”

Leo turned back to face you and you saw something glinting in his eyes. “I’ve never met a human quite like you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. “Good. Well, it’s bad for me because it makes me even more of a klutz, and I… oh dammit,” he hissed as his cheeks continued to blaze.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his hand as it hung limply at his side. “I like that you’re so easy to read. Your reactions are honest, and that’s… refreshing, you know? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He brought his other hand up to his face and rubbed briefly at his eyes.

“What’s really bothering you?” you asked after a moment.

Again, he chuffed an awkward laugh and dropped his hand and turned to look at you, eyes gleaming. “I don’t… I don’t know how wise this is.”

“‘This’?”

He tilted his head knowingly, and your stomach lurched.

“I like you. A lot,” he said, voice thick. “And I’m scared that it’s not appropriate or something. And… I don’t have a clue what I'm doing. My kind are rare enough, so I hardly see someone of my own species to interact with on this level, let alone a human. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You squeezed the hand that you were still holding and said, “It’s ok.” Plunging guilt and disappointment filled your chest though. You’d not realised quite how much you’d come to like him in this first week until then, and the Summer Camp still went on for another two. “Why don’t we just… hang out over the next couple of weeks? And at the end, if we want to take it somewhere, maybe we can explore that then. But if we decide not to, then we don’t have to. I can go back to the city, and that’ll be that.”

You didn’t miss the way his fingers clenched suddenly at that, but he nodded.

The next two weeks were honestly torture. By the middle of that second week of the three that made up the entirety of the summer camp, you were convinced that you really, really liked him. He kept looking at you after the classes were over; he came to almost every evening meal now; and he found every excuse to touch you - even just the briefest and most chaste of touches - whenever he could.

Dane didn't miss a trick either, and he hauled you off to one side at the end of the second week of camp and gave you what was probably your first ‘Talk’ ever. “Look,” he said. “I don’t mean to be a dick, but Leo is one of my best friends. If you fuck around with him and hurt him, I swear to god, it will not end well for you.”

“Whoa,” you said, taking a step back away from the enormous minotaur. “Dane…”

He stared you down, but seemed to realise he’d overstepped. He let out a puffing breath and sighed. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t actually, you know, hurt you. It’s just that Leo is… he’s kind of innocent, you know? He’s never had a partner that I know of. This summer camp is literally his whole life, and what he does in the winter months is a mystery. He just disappears and comes back with the spring.”

“Really?”

Dane nodded.

“He must be so lonely.” You looked into the minotaur’s dark eyes and said, “Dane, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. We talked about it on that first Friday actually, and we decided to put our feelings - whatever they are - on hold til the end of camp. Then we’ll see how things are.”

Dane nodded slowly, and the matter seemed closed, though he still kept an eye on the pair of you from a distance.

The celebration of the end of the first of the summer camp sessions - there was a week’s gap in between the first and the second one to let the staff recover, restock on things and prepare for the next session - saw you and Leo seated by the fire, closer than any other folks were.

His shell was huge, and it made for the perfect leaning post. You rested your weight against it, and sighed happily, drinking deeply from the little plastic tumbler in your hand.

“You alright?” he asked, looking down at you. His long, red hair slid over his pale shoulders and he looked even more beautiful than ever as he gazed down at you.

“More than,” you grinned. “You?”

The handsome merman sighed, and you caught a distinct tinge of sadness in his warm eyes.

“Leo?”

He sighed expansively. “I… uh… Do you want to go for a walk?”

You pouted thoughtfully. “Sure,” you said, smiling and began levering yourself upright with the help of his curling shell. “I need to walk some of that amazing food down.”

He smiled in agreement and held his hand out to help you up. His skin was cool and his palm smooth. You tried not to take too much notice.

No one really commented on your leaving together, but Dane cast you a severe look that was definitely a warning shot across the bows, but you smiled and nodded sagely, and he backed off with a shy and apologetic smile. You tried to take it as a good sign that Leo had such good friends looking out for him.

The two of you made your way down the beach, Leo dragging his shell behind him, and eventually you blurted, “Isn’t that heavy?”

“Hmm?”

“Your shell?”

“Oh,” he blushed. “I mean… I actually found a pretty light one…”

“Do you ever leave it?”

“Rarely,” he hedged. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you smiled pointedly, and he blushed. “Have I asked something very personal again?”

With a playful smile, he nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Leo paused, the hiss and breath of the water on the sand beyond forming a quiet backdrop to your conversation. “As I told you before, you can ask me anything at all. I don’t mind.”

“Alright then,” you said, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “Since we’re technically not working tonight, and there are no more activities til next week, can I kiss you now?”

His breath caught and his chest heaved once. He was only wearing the loose-fitting t-shirt of the summer camp uniform, and it hung baggily over his shoulders, revealing the chiselled lines of his pale, freckled collarbones. “Yes,” he breathed, adding hastily, “But not here.”

He took you by the hand and led you towards the rocks that formed a breakwater not far from the retreating tide. Showing his strength in a way he’d not yet done, he put his hands on your waist and heaved you up onto a smooth, dry boulder so that you were at the same height as him. He kissed you then, with all the reverence and hesitation you’d expected from the shy merman.

His hands found their way to your hair, while your own landed at his waist and his body inched closer to yours. After a few moments, he pulled back, breathless, eyes glinting in the dark, and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve never… I mean… not for a human… gods…”

“Leo?” you asked, risking a glance down his body.

A moment or two later, he abandoned his shell in one swift movement, revealing a slender, curling tail and a bright red, ridged cock that was already weeping and fully erect. “I want you…” he rasped.

You nodded, and he exhaled in relief, shuddering violently as your nails raked eager, red lines down his pale torso. He gently removed your clothes, reverence still in every touch, until you were lying naked on the smooth boulder, and he parted his lips and stared hungrily at your bare, beautiful body. His hands traced the contours of your sides and hips, working their way up your torso, pinching your pebbling nipples until you arched your back and groaned with pleasure.

A sudden pressure around your ankles made you gasp, and you opened your eyes to find his crab’s claws closing around the ankle joint, locking you in place as he reared up and brought his cock between your thighs. The slick heat of it made you buck wildly, and he moaned as he began to fuck the space between your legs. His head bowed forwards, his long red hair trailing along your torso in tantalisingly soft tendrils, and his breath began to come in ragged draws the faster he worked his hips.

He lost himself in the feel of your body against his own.

“You’re perfect,” he gasped, grabbing you by the shoulders and hoisting you into the air.

He supported you all the while he continued to thrust upwards between your thighs, thick and hot and slick, and you gasped and cried out at the sensation. His claws were still clamped like cuffs around your ankles, keeping your legs tightly together as he rutted into you, thrust after thrust, gaining momentum until he began to shiver and pant wildly.

“I’m…” he warned before suddenly his whole body tensed and he began to spasm, thick ropes of come spilling between your thighs, slicking your skin with hot release as he came over you, his body rearing up with pleasure and his arms holding you tightly to his chest.

“Leo…” you gasped as his wild, clenching orgasm began to recede and he lowered you down onto the rock with shaky arms.

You leaned back and he followed you as if drawn by a magnet, draping himself along your aching body as the aftershocks of his release shook him to the core. His cock wept and drooled still across your thighs, twitching and spasming, and your legs were covered in him.

Eventually he looked up at you and pressed his hands against your hips to push himself unsteadily upright. “Are you ok?” he rasped, his legs spreading wide, struggling to hold himself upright.

“Yeah…” you said, looking ostentatiously between your legs. “But you’re now one ahead of me…”

Catching his breath, Leo smiled. “Can’t have that,” he said, and he licked his lips before lowering his face between your legs. “Here…”

And the moment the heat of his mouth closed over you, you were lost to the sensations of him; the sounds, the feel, the pleasure of him.

It wasn’t long before you too were howling your release to the empty night sky above.

---

I really hope you enjoyed this one! I’m working really hard on finishing the rest of my Mermay stories. Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a reblogging it!

And definitely don’t forget to check out some incredibly gorgeous artwork of Leo by the immensely talented @ilustrariane

---

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

___________________________

#merman #exophilia #mermay #hermit crab mer #merman x reader #gender neutral reader

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fly-flower-fanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Drunken Kisses

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, alcohol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And what the fuck are you doing with those, RJ?"

Tony's voice rung out, calling out the nickname he had given me. It stood for Reused Junk, since I always was found stealing leftover junk from Tony's workshop. I turned to face him, holding up my hands filled with metal scraps. Tony always let me use the scraps of metals he didn't need, but he never seemed to know what I used them for. Hell, half the time I didn't even know what to sue them for. I just created art with them, abstract art or whatever.

"Art stuff," I answered.

"Art stuff?" Tony folded his arms over his chest, a small smirk making its way onto his lips. "Really?"

"Uh, yeah! Look, Tony, babe, I need nothing more than my wicked mad skills, my rugged good looks, and maybe like, half a million dollars." I carefully gathered the pieces into a box so I didn't get cut. I then picked the box up and held it underneath my arm.

Tony laughed, stepping to the side to he could let me pass. "I'll think about the last one."

I winked at him as I passed by. "You'll give into me one of these days, Stark!"

Tony and my friendship was probably one of my favorite things about being here. I wasn't the biggest, baddest, or coolest Avenger, but no one ever seemed to make me feel inferior to them. Tony, after learning about my intense creativity, would ask me what I would think of a design or ask for my help with one. We quickly became friends, and the rest was pretty much history. We teased each other as much as we could, but were there when anything went wrong.

Another one of my favorite things about being here was Spider-Man himself — little Peter Parker: the brown-haired boy was the one I fell in love with. Tony seemed to pick up on it right away, and I blamed it on him being bisexual that he was able to immediately sniff out my crush.

Peter was always soft and almost the opposite of Tony in every single way. My heart fell for the spider boy almost as soon as I laid eyes on him. I couldn't get enough of him, but I almost swore he didn't feel the same way.

I wouldn't say that I was perfect at picking out other people's sexuality, but Peter didn't radiate anything about being into guys in any sort of way. Though it hurt, I would rather stay his friend than to potentially ruin our friendship over my feelings.

I ended up back in my room, plopping the box of scraps onto the desk I owned. I reached out and grabbed the rolling chair I'd stolen from the lab before sitting on it and wheeling myself towards the massive sculpture that sat in the corner of my room.

It was a large spider web with little mementos stuck inside of it. I always added to the web whenever there was spare metal that I was able to fold with my hands. I kept everything in the web like a special sort of shelf that fit my style and aesthetic.

Pictures were the main thing that littered my sculpture. It was pictures of times that I didn't want to forget. There were pictures of Steve and I dancing when he was teaching me the little he knew. Pictures of Tony and I making silly faces with one another. Pictures of Bucky and I out on the roof. Peter and I watching movies. Loki and I pretending to fight one another. Pictures of all of us doing whatever. I could even begin to describe all the ones I had taped up onto the metal web. There were scraps of things I had taped up there as well. Movie ticket stubs, ice cream cone wrappings, leaves, papers, drawings, anything and everything.

Everything on my web was a reminder to me of the family that I had, the family that I had made.

"Woah..." I spun around in the chair to see Peter standing in my doorway, his eyes glued onto my sculpture. "Did you make that?"

I felt myself become flustered as I turned my head to look as well. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"That's awesome!" He walked up to it and looked over the pictures and items I had on there. "I don't even remember you taking some of these pictures." He pointed to an amusement park wristband I had put up there. "I took you there; I remember that."

"Yeah. It was fun. I'm shocked you remember that." I got up from the chair and went to stand beside him. "Shocked I remember that," I admitted with a laugh.

My powers had fucked with my memory a bit. I had the power of hypnosis and mind reading, but it required an immense amount of mental control and focus. It made me forget things sometimes, and I didn't like that. So I made my sculpture so I would be unable to forget.

"Does this help?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," I said, "it does. I don't remember everything in great detail, but it's helped. At least I haven't lost everything, ya know?"

I cleared my throat and went over to my bed, trying to fix it up a little. I felt a bit self conscious about Peter being in my room, but it didn't really seem to bother him. I sat down on my bed and watched the boy.

Part of me desperately wanted to read his mind and have a walk around to figure out if he liked me back the way I liked him. No, no, what the fuck? That was wrong. Absolutely wrong. I frowned at myself and shook my head, standing back up.

"I'm gonna head out to grab something from the kitchen. You're welcome to stay, just-just don't tell anyone else about the sculpture. It's a little embarrassing for me." That wasn't a lie; I was embarrassed that I needed help remembering things. It was just I didn't want everyone to know that I valued them so dearly. I wasn't sure how they'd react, and I didn't want to seem like a pushover.

I grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator. What would Peter think of it? I closed my eyes as I opened the drink. He wouldn't care so much, would he? He looked interested, but would he think it's weird?

"Hey! RJ! So glad you're here!" Tony called out to me, startling me.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, eyeing him suspiciously. "What've you got planned...?"

Tony merely winked and grabbed my hand, yanking me along behind him. "Nothing!”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it was clear that the hero was rather tipsy. "Fucking liar!" I shouted back as he pulled me into the living room.

Thor, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Peter were sitting on the floor. Various glasses littered the ground around them, showing that everyone had some sort of alcohol in their system. Well, everyone but Peter and I. We made nervous eye contact, and it was obvious that we were being drug into some kind of game.

Tony plunked me down on the floor next to Steve, and I found myself laughing. "What the bloody fuck are we doing?" I asked Tony.

He thrust a half-filled bottle of wine at me. "Oh, sweet boy, we're playin' a game. But you and Spidey over there gotta finish this so we can play."

I'd been friends with Tony far too long, so I had a higher alcohol tolerance. Peter looked scared out of his mind, so I drank most of the bottle before handing it to him to swallow the rest.

"The point of that was?" I asked Tony as he went out, grabbing a couple bottle of alcohol and two more shot glasses.

"So the two of you could be a bit tipsy with the rest of us," he answered as he handed both Peter and I a shot glass. Only then did I notice that the others were holding shot glasses in their hands.

I looked around the circle suspiciously, but I couldn't figure out what we were doing or what Tony was planning.

"Never Have I Ever," Tony said, basically reading my thoughts.

"Oh my god, Tony, this is a college game," I said, laughing.

"Yet it shares secrets," he replied, filling up the shot glasses.

We went around the circle, playing the stupid game. It was more fun than I had originally thought that it would be. Peter and I were relatively pure, though, based on some of the things that were being asked. I was comfortably buzzed when Tony decided to be the asshole best friend and ask the question:

"Never have I ever had a crush on another person in the room."

Thankfully, Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Steve took shots as well as I did. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Peter downing his shot.

"Oooh! Steve?" Tony pressured, slurring his 's' a little bit.

Steve's cheeks turned pink as he glanced over towards Bucky. Bucky only took the chance to take Steve's face in his hands and kiss him. I couldn't help but cheer along with the rest of the team. It was about time those two had admitted it to the rest of us.

"Clint drank," I teased, pointing over to him.

He rolled his eyes at me with a laugh and gestured to Natasha. "I'd sure hope I like my girlfriend or this would get real awkward real fast."

"Peter, I'm surprised you drank to that," Natasha said.

I turned towards Peter, and his whole face was flushed red, probably because he had been spotted.

"Who is it?" Tony asked. Peter bit his lip, refusing to answer aloud. His eyes eventually met mine silently before he looked back down at his lap. "RJ? Ooh, damn, RJ! You lucky bastard. Woulda sucked if he didn't like you back."

I rolled my eyes at Tony's drunkenness. At least he kept the secret for long enough. Peter's eyes came back up to meet mine and I shrugged. I wasn't ever really all that shy, but the alcohol helped boost my confidence.

I got up, walked over to him, straddled his hips, and pressed my lips up against his. He kissed me back hesitantly as the others whistled behind us.

Once I pulled away, I smiled down at him. "I kept the wristband because that's when I fell in love with you."

Peter looked over my face and his eyes settled on my lips again. "I fell in love with you when we went to the movies the week before," he muttered before pulling me back in for another kiss.

The alcohol made him bolder, and I would be lying if I said that that didn't turn me on at least a little. I ran my fingers through his hair, gripping it and giving it a light tug. Peter left off a soft gasp, a blush darkening his cheeks.

I smirked as I pulled away, scrambling to my feet and pulling Peter up with me. "Sorry, Tony. I gotta play your little game later. Maybe next time some things'll have changed," I said with a wink, taking Peter to my bedroom.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x male reader #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #lgbt #gay peter parker

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hazzasgayvodka · 6 years ago

Text

25 * EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE * 25

Impact: Chapter 25

Chapter title song: Every Breath You Take - The Police

HARRY

How does she do this to me? How does she make my heart beat faster and my head pound harder? How does she flood every thought that pops into my mind and influence every move I make? Every fiber of my being wants to turn around and go back for her, to apologize for being an idiot and tell her about the way she makes my body feel like I'm floating.

It's otherworldly, indescribable. The way her eyes can burn into mine and inflict the sensation that they do. They rattle my bones, stir up my breathing, get my heart truly beating. Everything about her is so precise and spectacular. The angle of her nose and the lines of her lips, the fiery curls of her hair and the warm golden brown of her eyes. She makes me crazy, insane even. I hear her voice in my head, sweet and soft or sometimes loud and strangled. Either way it is music, a piece of art meant to be cherished rather than strung in a line to make a sentence and forced into un-wanting eardrums.

I lied to her again when I told her I wasn't going home. My instinct was to go to the bar and drink away the feeling of the boulder sitting on my chest but with her voice in my head and the image of her behind my eyelids I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I walk inside and despite having already taken a shower today, I find myself walking into the bathroom and starting the water. I step into the shower with a grimace, my leg is still sore from the fight last night. I look down to see my torso covered in bruises, some worse than others. A mix of purple and blues adding to the black sketches across my skin. I let my eyes travel across my skin and I wonder how she looks at me and isn't horrified. The bruises, scrapes, and bumps all over me. The angry red blotches across my stomach from a car airbag and the giant scars down my back.

The water stings as it hits them, cascading down my back and I have to remind myself that it's all in my head. I reach my hand over my head to run it along the divots in my skin where they reside, the deep scars scraping down my spine. I flinch as my fingertips just barely brush the tip of one of them. It doesn't hurt, my body simply remembers where it's supposed to hurt, it's not real.

I hear my old shrink's voice in my head, reminding me of the three steps to getting through psychosomatic injuries and it makes me feel nauseous. The water is far too hot, but I welcome it gladly as it scorches my skin in the same places her hands have touched me. I can still feel them, soft and small as they trace the black lines across my skin and hold my face so gently as if I'm something to be protected.

I run my fingers along my wet skin wishing for the burn that accompanies her each and every touch, but I am cold. No matter how hot the water I'm freezing, the scorching cascade down my back is no match for the inferno she creates within my veins. No number of cigarettes could give me the high I get from her lips on mine. The electricity that runs up my spine when her fingertips brush my skin cannot be met by any amount of adrenaline from any fight.

There is not a number, not a description, not a word to describe the way she makes me feel and the way she has impacted me.

JESS

How does he do this? How does he melt my insides and rip my heart out all in the same sentence? Why do I still want to turn around and chase his car down after it all. After all the secrets and the yelling, after everything he's done I still want to be in his arms. I still want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him impossibly close to me.

His voice won't get out of my head, smooth and velvety or rough and raging there is never an in-between with him. I can hear his laugh in my mind, it fills a room and never fails to make me smile. I can picture him, his beautiful viridian irises as they look up into my eyes from underneath his rich curls that frame his face. I can't take my eyes off him, god he looks like an Adonis when I'm looking up at him like this. His eyes, his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. He looks like a protagonist, like the one that wins in the end, how appropriate.

I feel my mind whirling, coursing through every moment we've shared together and wondering how I didn't figure it out. How did he never slip up? All the times we hung out with Miles and studied in the library, all the times he was jealous when Miles picked me up from his house. They knew, and I didn't. How did I never wonder enough about their relationship? Their obvious dislike for each other. It was so obvious, so right under my nose and I never saw it. I guess I was too busy looking up at him.

HARRY

I walk out of the bathroom, redressed in my long sleeve shirt and jeans. I feel better, finally able to breathe without her standing beside me. Niall meets me in the kitchen, reaching in the fridge to grab a beer as he passes me.

"Where's Jess?" He asks.

"I don't know." I shrug, leaning against the counter behind me.

"What do you mean you don't know? That's not like you-"

He's cut off as Louis and Sam burst through the door groping each other. I thought Louis said she was pissed at him? She doesn't look pissed now as she kicks the door closed and grabs his face in her hands roughly pressing her mouth to his. He walks backwards, his arms contortioned around her as they maul each other, stumbling through the living room to his bedroom around the corner.

I turn back to Niall and my stomach sinks, despite the severity and aggression of it, part of me wishes me and Jess could be doing something similar. Perhaps not sucking each other's faces off but there's not much I wouldn't give to be able to kiss her face right now.

"What happened?" He speaks up, smacking me in the arm.

"She knows." I sigh.

"About?"

"About everything Niall."

"Everything?"

"The fights, Zack, the scars, my dad and the fact that he's getting married," I groan, running my hands through my soaking hair, "Everything Niall, she knows everything.

I can tell he doesn't know what to say. I've never told a girl everything. Hell, I've never told a girl anything. All of those other girls who came through here and never went past the confines of my bedroom door. They all meant nothing, I thought they were everything, but they were a speck, a blip in the timeline. Jess is the timeline.

"So, where is she?" He asks.

"Somewhere hating my guts." I mumble, taking his beer out of his hand and taking a sip.

"Why aren't you there making her not hate your guts, then?" He shouts, smacking me in the head.

"Because we need time!" I shout, distancing myself from him so he can't hit me again, "She needs time, she's had a hundred bombs dropped on her in the past forty-eight hours and I don't want to drown her."

He shakes his head, "No Harry, when girls have time they make decisions, bad ones in your case. When they have time they're able to convince themselves they don't need you that bad," He says seriously, shoving me towards the door, "Now go get in your car and drive your ass to wherever she is and apologize until she's kissing your face again."

"Niall-"

"Harry, she is good for you and you're about to let her go because you think you let her get too close. I know what you're doing, you're backing out. You're not drowning her, you're letting her drown because you handed her an anchor and didn't help her get back in the damn boat!" He shouts, shoving his finger into my chest with every word, "Do not let your ego get in the middle of this because she is way too good for you, but she is stupid in love with you for some reason."

He shoves my keys in my hand and nearly throws me out the door. I walk in a daze to my car and collapse inside, putting my keys in the ignition and banging my fists against the steering wheel.

In love with me? Jess? No, of course not. A girl like Jess doesn't fall in love with a guy like me.

The music starts playing again, haunting me. I skip through song after song and every one of them makes her appear in my mind. They're tainted with images of her in the car beside me, singing along to the lyrics with smiling eyes. I grip the steering wheel with white knuckles as the music surrounds me in a beautiful haze of her.

I can't stop myself before I'm snatching the CD out of the player and snapping it in half in my hands. I break it again and again in the unbearable silence I've created. Soon I'm holding smithereens, reflective shards of memories of her and surrounding myself in the silence. I embrace the ringing in my ears and let it flood the foreground of my mind, drowning out every other thought fighting to encompass me right now. I'm being rash, why am I doing this? What kind of hold does she have on me?

I look around me at the countless CDs I've destroyed, the plastic pieces littering my lap and strangling my arms, wrapping around my fingers, the music holding me hostage. I want to drive, to go anywhere but here in this deathly silence, imagining her arms around my neck.

I drive in circles, my mind aimlessly wandering. My head is filled with images of her. Warm brown eyes to match her soul and fiery red hair to compliment her personality. I remember the first time I kissed her and the longing for her lips on mine grows stronger. I remember my hesitancy and the way she let her hands roam my body. I remember the taste of her lipstick and how she grabbed me by the shirt just like the first night I ever met her.

I long for the inferno we create within ourselves. I long for the fire, for the electricity that she sparks in my veins and spreads through my body. The rush of adrenaline I get from her skin on mine. I long for it all so much that my head is spinning. I want to hear her laugh and see her eyes squint when she smiles. I want her to blab to me about manuscripts she's reading at work and dance with me while we make dinner in the kitchen. I want to watch movies on the couch with her feet tucked under my legs because she's cold. I want to scrape the snow off her car and start it for her so it's warm when she drives to class. I want to see her in my clothes every day of the week, every night when we go to bed and every morning when she goes to class. I want to take morning showers with her and kiss her with toothpaste in my mouth, I want her to roll her eyes at me and yell at me and fight with me because fighting with her will always be better than kissing anyone else.

I want her.

No, I lied to her.

I need her. I need her.

JESS

I sit in Taylin's arms, tears running down my cheeks like waterfalls. She rubs her hand up and down my back, cradling me like the big baby I am. She ordered pizza on the way over, but I know I won't be able to bring myself to eat it. It only reminds me of him and all I want is for him to pick me up and take me to Spiro's.

"What did he do?" She asks finally, and I can tell she's been holding off from asking.

I don't even know where to begin. What did he do? Nothing. Everything. He lied to me, well, he kept secrets. Every time I turn around another one comes to light and he's having to explain himself. I feel like I'm being dragged further and further into darkness and soon enough it will swallow me whole and I'll be blind.

"He's complex." I say carefully.

"Complex?"

"There's a lot of parts to him," I explain, "He wears different masks, and has too many secrets and I just don't know if I'm the person to be able to keep up with all that."

"What do you mean?" She asks, brushing my hair behind my ear.

"Well, I work with him, and he's an editor," I breathe, my chest caving as I speak his secret for the first time, "And he's a tattoo artist, and a boxer."

"A boxer?" She asks, sitting up straighter.

"Yeah, he fights people, and people bet on who will win and he makes money."

"Is that legal?" She asks and my stomach twists.

"I don't know."

I don't want to tell her about Niall and how confused their relationship makes me. I don't tell her about him hotwiring a car or how angry he got when he beat up Jackson the other night. I don't mention the scars or the temper or his dad because deep down somewhere I don't want her to hate him, I think I want her to like him and convince me to stay with him too.

There's a knock on the door and she sits up excitedly, "That's the pizza."

I know she's trying to cheer me up but as soon as the smell of pizza fills this room, she won't be able to drag me back from my crying fit.

"Will you grab the door and I'll go find my wallet?" She asks, "I think I left it in the bathroom."

I drag my feet across the room and fold my arms across my chest to keep warm. It feels foreign being here again, this dorm doesn't even feel like mine anymore. I pull the door open and my heart stops in my chest. He's standing there with soaking wet hair and the same clothes as this morning. He's shivering, it's fucking freezing out, but he doesn't seem to mind as she takes a step closer to me.

"Jess, I've never needed anyone," He sighs, his voice cracking, "But I'm starting to think I might need you."

I can't breathe. My chest is collapsing, my stomach is in my throat. My mouth is glued shut, I don't know any sum of letters that could be half as beautiful and profound as the words that just fell past his lips.

"I know I've fucked up, I should have told you everything, but I was scared. I thought you would leave, I thought it would freak you out. All the fighting and the shit with Miles, but I just want you back," He breathes, "I'm so sorry baby, I know I'm going to have to buy you every concert ticket in the stadium for this one but I'm willing to do that. I just need you next to me in the morning wearing one of my shirts, even my Pyromania one, I don't fucking care, I just-"

He doesn't even have the rest of the sentence out of his mouth before I'm grabbing his cheeks and pressing my lips to his. It's not rushed and messy like other kisses we've shared, it's slow and meaningful, our lips molded to each other's with no desire to break away any time soon.

He tastes like spearmint and smells like laundry detergent and cologne. I feel the chill of his lip ring against the corner of my mouth and I'm reminded that it really is him I'm kissing. I'm stuck in a whirlwind, in a cyclone of him, a hurricane of emotions and feelings and fears of the unknown. He's crazy and he makes me crazy, but I love it all the same. He's up and down and hot and cold and I thrive on it. We're so alike and so different, polar opposites and yet one in the same. He fits against me like a puzzle piece, his hand moving from my cheek to wrap around my waist and the shock of electricity I get from his touch makes me jump.

His touch is the only contact I crave, the only feeling I can never seem to get enough of. I wish he'd never stop touching me, just a constant hand on my skin, inflicting small bursts of electricity in my nerves every few seconds.

He pulls away from me and the grin on his face makes my heart flutter. It's just a small turn up on the right side of his face, a small laugh escaping his lips. God he's so handsome. His eyes are locked on mine, his arms loosely wrapped around my waist, holding me to him. I think back to those car rides in his car with the radio on and all I can think about is how much better this would be with music in the background.

"Jess I can't find my wallet, I checked everywhere in the-"

I turn around in his arms to meet eyes with Taylin. I completely forgot she was even here as soon as my eyes landed on him at my doorstep. Harry releases me and leans forward, extending his hand towards her.

"Harry Styles." He smiles, shaking her hand.

She laughs, looking at me incredulously as he pulls his hand away, "Taylin McCormick."

The awkward air around us is tangible and I find myself biting my lip as I turn around to talk to him quietly, but he cuts me off.

"Can I uh, steal her, for a bit?" He asks, looking straight at Taylin.

"Be my guest." She laughs, gesturing to the door.

He grabs my hand and tugs me outside and I'm instantly shivering in the cold. His hands are shaking, from the cold or the delightfully nauseous feeling that's taken over me, I'm not sure.

"Can we go home?" He asks, his voice nearly begging.

"Harry, I'm not just going to leave Taylin alone in my dorm." I sigh, my teeth chattering.

"Sam will be back at some point, I'm sure they'll be best friends by the time you're back tomorrow morning."

"Harry." I warn, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs, his breath coming out in a fog as he rubs his hands together and swears under his breath about how freezing it is.

"Fine," He huffs, "But you better make this kiss good if it's the only one I'm getting tonight."

I laugh as he pulls me to him and presses his mouth to mine. I can feel his lips grinning against mine as his arms wrap around me, momentarily keeping me warm. He pulls away and presses another kiss to my forehead, holding me tightly in his arms.

"I'm picking you girls up for breakfast in the morning," He says, turning away and heading back to his car, "Be ready by eight, baby."

I watch him get in his car and drive away. My heart sinks but my stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow morning. I walk back inside to see Taylin sat on the couch, her eyes wide as I sit next to her.

"I can't believe you didn't leave with him," She scoffs, punching me in the arm, "Actually, I can't believe you're dating him, I mean, how many tattoos does he have?"

"Oh, shush." I groan, tossing a pillow at her.

He shows up the next morning at seven thirty, a whole half hour earlier than he originally promised. I've barely crawled off the couch where me and Taylin fell asleep watching Twilight the night before when I hear him knocking at the door.

I drag myself from the confines of my burrito of blankets and open the door, my eyes adjusting to the flood of sunlight outside. He walks past me, rubbing his hands together to warm them up and I close the door behind him.

"You're early, Styles." I tease, leaning up to peck his lips.

"Couldn't wait to see you, baby." He smiles, holding me to him and pressing his lips against mine again, clearly not satisfied with our first kiss.

I pull away from him and stare into his eyes, noticing the bags surrounding them. He looks like he didn't get an ounce of sleep last night.

"What's happening?" Taylin groans from the couch, stretching her arms out as she yawns.

"Harry's here, we should probably get ready for breakfast." I laugh, tugging the blankets from around her.

"Free breakfast? I'll be ready in five." She grins, standing from the couch and making her way to the bathroom.

I turn back to Harry, shaking my head, "Looks like I'm gonna have to wear my own clothes for once."

"My jackets in the car," He laughs, "I grabbed it on the way out the door."

I roll my eyes at him, turning towards my room and deciding to get ready. He tries to follow me, but I sit him on the couch and hand him the remote, promising to be out in twenty minutes. I undress from my pajamas and slide a pair of jeans on with a black and white striped long sleeve shirt. Taylin comes in after brushing her teeth and sorting out her crazy long hair to get dressed in white jeans and a floral blouse. She looks adorable in seconds and I'm still trying to untangle the knots in my hair.

"I'm ready when you are." She smiles, spraying some perfume on herself and throwing a jacket over her shoulders.

I nod, shoving my feet into a pair of boots and following her back out to see Harry watching an episode of Law and Order. He stands from the couch and grabs my hand, twirling his keys around his finger.

"Are we ready ladies?" He asks, holding the door open for the both of us.

We both nod, walking out to his car parked outside. I get in the front seat and Taylin climbs in the back as he starts the car, Guns and Roses flooding the car from the speakers. He reaches into the backseat and hands me his jacket as he backs out and drives onto the main road. I meet eyes with Taylin and she looks like she might burst as she eyes the acid washed denim jacket in my hands.

He pulls into a shopping center parking lot and parks in front of the IHOP. He stops the car and gets out, running around to my side and grabbing the door. Taylin nearly squeals in the backseat as she gets out herself and rushes to walk next to me, Harry walking slightly ahead of us.

"You two are fucking adorable." She whispers, hooking her arm through mine as we approach the front of the restaurant.

He holds the door for us, making Taylin nearly explode, "After you," He smiles, gesturing inside and following us inside the doors.

He walks up to the podium and gets us a table, following the hostess to the back where she sits us by a window. Taylin insists that I sit beside him, but he shakes his head and claims he should be the one to sit alone. I roll my eyes at him, sitting down next to Tay just as she jumps up, excusing herself to use the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." She says, heading back to the front.

I turn to him with a conscious smirk on my lips, "What are you doing?"

"What are you talking about?" He laughs.

"You're being too nice, like, Miles nice."

"I am not being Miles level nice," He sighs, "I just want her to like me, she's your best friend."

"That she is," I nod, "And she does like you, you don't have to butter her up."

"I know I don't have to, but I should," He insists, "Louis says the best friend of the girl you're dating is the most dangerous thing in the world because if they don't like you, the girl dumps you."

I can't help but laugh as I take in the nervous look on his face. Oh my god, big bad Harry Styles is nervous. Shitting himself nervous.

"The girl you're dating?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him, "Is that your way of officially asking me to be your girlfriend?"

He looks up from the table in shock, meeting my eyes with his mouth hanging open. I can tell I've caught him off guard.

"I uh, yes? Wait, no, I'm supposed to make it a bigger deal than that, right?" He asks worriedly, trying to search my eyes for an answer.

"You're so cute when you're flustered." I laugh, leaning across the table and pecking his lips.

I pull away to see him rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me. Taylin comes back and slides into the booth beside me just as the waitress appears, asking for drink orders. Me and Harry get coffee and Taylin decides on a glass of orange juice.

Breakfast goes perfectly other than Harry's grumbling about their pancakes. I can tell he doesn't like them as much as his own and he definitely doesn't want me to think they're better than his either. He kicks his foot against mine under the table multiple times, making me look up at him with a teasing glare.

Too soon we're leaving, and Harry is driving us back to my dorm. We spend the rest of the weekend shopping and taking Taylin around the area to do tourist things. She consistently gushes about how cute we are, and I have to hide my blushing cheeks away from them both. On her last day before she has to go back for another week of class, she asks me about homecoming.

It feels like she's the hundredth person that's asked me, but I don't know if Harry would want to go to something like that and I don't want to go without him.

"It doesn't matter if he wants to go," She huffs, packing her suitcase, "It matters that you want to go, and therefore he should want to take you."

"I don't think dances are really his thing." I shrug.

"Who cares? It's homecoming! Dances can be his thing for one night." She laughs, zipping up her suitcase and standing from kneeling on the ground.

"I guess I'll ask him about it." I sigh.

"You better, I'm going to call you to make sure you did, too." She warns, pointing her finger at me as she drags her suitcase to the door.

I sigh, pulling her in for one last hug before she has to go. I never get to see her anymore now that we're in two different colleges, two hours away from each other in good traffic. She hugs me tight, kissing my cheek as she pulls away and grabs her suitcase again.

"I'm glad you worked it out with him," She smiles, "I like him Jess, he's different than the other ones."

"I know, he's not a high school jock." I laugh.

"True, but not what I meant," She says, "I mean he's different in the way he is with you, he opens doors for you and gives you his jacket. He's so happy around you Jess, you should see his face light up when you walk into the room."

I shake my head, cupping my blushing cheeks in my hands and hiding my face from her. She's right, he's different than the others. They never cared, they made me pay for dinner and expected me to put out every night of the week. None of them would fight for me like he does, every time I think we've gone too far, pushed each other too hard, we come back together.

Being Harry's girlfriend had to be the weirdest title only because, no one has ever worn it before. Whispers around campus spread like wildfire the more we walked around hand in hand and kissed before class. I constantly had strangers asking me if I was really dating Harry Styles and I got to proudly tell them yes. He loved calling me his girlfriend, perhaps more than dollface or even baby. Everywhere we went he introduced me as his 'amazing girlfriend, Jess' and his face lit up every time.

Although the bet was technically over, I definitely spent more nights at Casa de Styles than my own dorm. More than half of his closet was taken over by my clothing and he sacrificed one of his dresser drawers to hold my underwear and socks. No more suitcases or bags, I had two toothbrushes and two hairbrushes and even two bottles of face wash.

Rather than switching back offices, Harry dragged the hallway desk into his office one morning while I was in class. He split his office in two, moving his own desk further into the corner so I have my own space on the other side of the room. He even decorated, well, decorated for Harry I guess. He put a picture of us on the wall and a picture Niall took of me on his desk. He claims it keeps him focused.

Homecoming is around the corner and the more proposals I witness in the courtyard between classes, the more I want Harry to do something. Louis surprised Sam and payed for the question to be written in the sky by a plane. She screamed and jumped into his arms and I rolled my eyes as I walked passed them.

Even Miles is caught up in the homecoming spiral. He's the captain of the football team and the homecoming game is right around the corner. It feels like he's always at practice or weight lifting and I feel like I barely ever see him anymore. He asked Nicole, a girl in our stats class. He asked her to help him with a graphing problem and when they finished graphing it, the calculator said 'HOCO?' Needless to say, she said yes.

I try not to get my hopes up, I doubt Harry even wants to go, but it's hard when everyone under the sun is getting asked to go.

"Why don't you just ask him instead?" Miles suggests as we sit in the library, avoiding our stats homework like the plague.

"Because that's not how it works Miles." I sigh, twirling my pencil between my fingers.

"Why not, it's a time of progression, do it Sadie Hawkins style." He laughs, taking the pencil from my hands so I'll actually look at him.

"How hard is it to just ask though?" I huff.

He sighs, standing up and reaching a hand out to me. I start to protest but he shushes me, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the butt-numbing chair.

"Where are we going?"

"Café, I need a coffee to get through this work." He groans, dragging me behind him.

I roll my eyes and turn to look at him as he shoves me towards a short haired boy walking past me. I knock straight into him, bracing myself and holding my arms in front of my face. His cup drops to the ground and splatters against my shoes and I gasp, looking down to see my white converse covered in only water.

"Oh my god I am so sorry-" I apologize, looking up to meet their face.

"Don't worry about it dollface," He smirks, holding out a piece of clothing from behind his back, "I guess I'll just have to lend you this dress, so you can wear it to homecoming with me."

I gasp, my mouth nearly hitting the ground as my eyes land on him. My mind doesn't know how to react, I want to kiss his face, but his hair is all I can focus on. I grab him around the neck and pull him to me. I can't take my eyes off his hair, it's short, so short. I run my hands through it over and over. It curls around his ears and the back of his neck and the front lifts off his forehead, tousled into a wave.

"You cut your hair," I mumble, running my fingers through the strands at the back of his neck, "Oh my god you cut your hair, Harry, it's gone."

"I did," He grins, laughing at my reaction, "I also bought you a dress which I honestly thought you'd be more excited about."

I pull away from him, looking at the dress held in his hands. He holds it up to show me it in its full length, I immediately recognize it from the mall. I tried it on with Sam, but it was at least a hundred dollars over my budget. It's gorgeous, all white lace and see through. I can't believe he would buy me this, it's so sheer, it's so everything he would never want me wearing out. I can't imagine his reaction when he realizes it's also skin tight.

"Harry! Oh my god I loved this dress!" I shriek, taking it from his hands and holding it up to me.

"I know, Sam told me," He grins, "I was a little cautious when I first saw it but I'm sure it looks fucking gorgeous on you."

He smiles, laughing at my excitement as I twirl with the dress held up to me. Sam offers to hold the dress for me and as soon as it's out of my hands I grab his face and press my lips to his, feeling his lip ring against the corner of my mouth. I reach my hands around his neck and thread my hands through his short hair, it feels so different, so foreign, and yet I love it.

I pull away to see his smiling face again, it's so crazy seeing him with short hair, he doesn't even look like himself. I can see the earrings in his ears for once, two rings on the top of each of them and plain black circles in his earlobes. The time piece tattoo on his neck is in plain view, something I've only ever seen a few times.

"So, is that a yes?" He asks.

"Yes, yes of course, yes!" I say, running my hands through the front of his hair instead.

I hear a chorus of cheers behind me and I turn around to see Louis, Sam, Niall, and Miles all standing behind me. They're all smiling, Louis and Niall whistling, and I can't believe the amount of noise they're making in the library.

"Did you like it?" He asks, making me turn back to him, "Recreating the first night we met?"

"I loved it, oh my god Harry I loved it, it was perfect," I gush, "I mean I can't believe you just soaked my shoes, but it was still perfect."

He laughs, throwing his arm around me, "I can't take all the credit, it was like ninety-five percent Niall's idea."

Niall smiles proudly, holding up his phone to snap a picture of us. Harry presses his lips to my cheek at the last second, making me flinch just as the flash goes off. Niall laughs and shows us the picture and I look to see my eyes squinting closed, a huge smile taking over my face. I can't believe how happy I look with his arm wrapped around me, how happy he looks as he attacks me with kisses.

He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, but I turn my head, pressing our lips together instead. He pulls away and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear like he always does.

"This is perfect." I sigh, holding his cheek and letting my hand fit perfectly behind his ear where I can feel his short choppy hair in between my fingers.

"I'm not even finished yet," He laughs, "Don't you want to know the reason for the big chop?" He asks, pointing at his hair.

I nod eagerly, grabbing his hands in mine and awaiting his response. He turns me away from the crowd, secluding us a few feet away from everyone.

"Lex put my application through for the board member's position and they liked it, I have an interview next month!" He says enthusiastically.

I can hardly wrap my mind around it. He might be a board member of one of the largest publishing companies in the nation. He's only twenty-four years old and he could be a board member.

"I thought a trim might help." He shrugs, running his hand through his hair.

I grab him in my arms and he lifts me up, laughing. I kiss all over his face, attacking him as he sets me down and leans down to press a kiss to my forehead.

"If I get this job I won't even have to work at the shop anymore, I'll be making more than when I was fighting. I could get a better car and a better apartment, this is it baby." He grins, pressing his lips to mine.

The excitement of the homecoming proposal finally dissipates and soon we're off to work for another day behind our desks. I can't wipe the stupid smile off my face as I walk through the office, heading to the break room to grab us both cups of coffee.

Tonight, is Vance and Eliza's wedding announcement party. They've invited everyone over for cocktail hour and Harry and I have been asked to make an appearance. He's been on edge about it all week, still not loving the idea of his father getting remarried, but I can tell the walls he's built up are starting to crumble.

"Hey there, Jess." Vance smiles as I enter the breakroom, a cup of coffee also in his hand.

"Afternoon, Vance." I grin, making two cups of coffee.

"You two are coming tonight, right?" He asks, leaning against the counter in front of us.

"We are, not sure for how long but Harry says he will make an appearance." I nod, hoping he understands Harry's hesitancy.

"I can't believe you even got him to come in the first place," He thinks aloud, taking a sip of his coffee, "I've got a question for you Jess, do you think it'd be too much if I asked him to my best man?"

I nearly drop both cups of coffee as the words come out of his mouth. Best man? Harry? He can hardly stomach the idea that his father is getting remarried let alone attend every single event leading up to the wedding.

"Best man?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"It's too much, I knew it." He sighs, setting his coffee cup down.

"I don't know," I say quickly, hating the way his face falls, "I'm not sure right now, I think your relationship needs to bond a little more before you ask him. It might freak him out this soon. He just started agreeing to being in the same room as you."

He nods his head, thinking over my words in contemplation. He chews the side of his lip the same was his son does and once again I'm astounded by how alike their mannerisms are. With his short hair, he looks even more like him.

"Oh, have you seen him today?" I ask, changing the subject and lightening the mood. He shakes his head and I grin excitedly, "Just wait."

I poke my head out the door of the break room and call his name, hoping he isn't playing music while he's working. I turn back around and wait for his door to open. He peaks his head out and I divert my eye contact, turning back to making the coffees. I can feel his eyes on me through the glass walls of the break room before he pushes the door open.

"Did you call me?" He asks.

"Yes, I'm showing off your haircut." I laugh, running my hands through it to get it off his forehead as it's fallen throughout the day.

"It looks good, you look like a future board member." Vance grins, walking passed him and patting him on the back.

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless and I can't believe he's actually smiling at something Vance said. Lex pushes past Vance to get in here, his eyes wide.

"I saw you walk in here and I thought you were some intern I haven't met yet!" Lex exclaims, "Oh my god, Harry, your hair hasn't been this short since you were a teenager."

He claps him on the back and Harry rolls his eyes again nodding along to get Lex to shut up. I can tell he's embarrassed as Lex goes on and on, but I can't help but laugh. Soon, nearly everyone in the office is complimenting his hair and telling him he looks so professional.

"Thanks everyone, thank you." He sighs, grabbing my hand and dragging me back to our office.

He collapses into his chair and runs a hand through his hair, frowning when he realizes he's only got a few inches of hair to work with.

"It's so weird," He laughs, "My ears are cold all the fucking time now."

I giggle, turning back to the paperwork for the new publishing deal we're working on as he gets up from his chair and goes to open the window. He cracks it open and takes a cigarette from behind his ear, lighting it between his teeth.

"I need to get Niall to print that picture," He thinks aloud, "From today, I want it on my desk."

I shake my head as I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his back. He places his free hand over mine, intertwining our fingers and kissing my knuckles. I feel content, looking out the window to the street below.

"Tell him to print two of them," I smile, thinking about how happy he looked in it, "I want one for our room."

"God, I love it when you say that," He smirks, turning around in my arms and cupping my cheek with his hand, "Our room."

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanic #one direction smut #one direction #one direction fanfic

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wallpaperpainting · 4 years ago

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The common album “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” has been appear in 80 languages, including Latin and Ancient Greek. In February, a Yiddish adaptation abutting the mix — and awash out in 48 hours.

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How the aboriginal book of the iconic J.K. Rowling alternation was translated into the accent of Sholem Aleichem by Arun Viswanath, the 29-year-old begat of one of America’s greatest Yiddish dynasties, is a adventure in itself.

“I grew up with Yiddish as my aboriginal language,” Viswanath told The Times of Israel. “Although I batten English about natively, I consistently capital to acquaintance the bewitched apple of abracadabra in a accent that was abutting to my heart.”

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Viswanath’s mother, Gitl Schaechter-Viswanath, is a Yiddish-language artist who created the 856-page “Comprehensive English-Yiddish Dictionary.” Viswanath’s grandfather, Mordkhe Schaechter, was a arch Yiddish linguist who adherent his activity to the advancement of the Yiddish accent and its literature. And his Kerala, India-born polyglot father, Prof. P. V. Viswanath, met his mother at a Catskills Yiddishist retreat.

Following in the footsteps of his grandfather, Viswanath spent abounding hours account Yiddish stories, but could not acquisition annihilation commensurable to “Harry Potter.”

Gitl Schaechter-Viswanath captivation her ‘Comprehensive English-Yiddish Dictionary.’ (The Jewish Standard)

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“I consistently absurd that it would be admirable to accept article like this in Yiddish. Four years ago my wife, who is a actual big ‘Harry Potter’ fan, aback said during a altercation of our future, are you absolutely planning on adopting your accouchement in a apple afterwards ‘Harry Potter’ in Yiddish?” Viswanath said. “That was absolutely the acumen why I started on the activity anon afterwards the conversation. And I didn’t absolutely apperceive what I was accepting myself into.”

Viswanath’s day job is in business analytics. He started advice “Harry Potter” on nights and weekends afterwards achievement for abundant acknowledgment on the time advance added than the acquaintance acquired in translation. In 2018, he beatific a appeal for the advertisement of his adaptation to Rowling’s bureau but accustomed no response.

“I formed on this activity for over a year afterwards alive whether it was activity to be published,” Viswanath said. “Finally, I accustomed an answer. They told me that they had accustomed the rights to somebody else. It was like, we assumption you will be actual blessed to apprehend that there will be a Yiddish ‘Harry Potter.’ But not yours!”

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Viswanath after beatific an email to Nikolaj Olniansky, buyer of the Yiddish publishing abode Olniansky Tekst, which was advancing to absolution a adaptation of the title.

Olniansky, who is not alone a administrator but additionally

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kinny93ethz · 4 years ago

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#kinny93ethz #chamber3

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pumpkin-toast · 5 years ago

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Some OC Questions

This is gonna be long so I finally figured out how to properly use tumblr formatting to add a read more section

1. Your first OC ever?

My best guess is a little fellow called Scribbles

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

Three actually - Gretchen, Flooken, and Quasar. All small and precious, all very overpowered.

3. Have you ever adopted a character?

Yes actually, several times. A Cuphead OC named Jess and a few fantrolls.

4. A character you rarely talk about?

I rarely talk about half of my characters because I have so many but I feel like talking about Blinkey. He’s an aquaphobic Enderman who wears a little grassblock themed raincoat in case it rains

5. If you could only make one of your OCs popular, who would it be?

I think it would have to be Pindle. I feel like she could make it big.

6. Two of your OCs that look alike despite not being related?

Icicle and Noelle, although I heavily based Noelle’s appearance off Icicle. And then there’s Spindler, Spindle, and Pindle, who all have basically the exact same name.

7. Are your OCs part of any story of stories?

I have a looot of stories. Too many, actually, which is why most of them are on the backburner and I’m trying to focus on just one of them for now. Here, take some concept art for it:

8. Do you RP as any of your OCs?

Yes, I have RP blogs which interact with a small circle of other RP blogs. Specifically I RP as Flooken, Kamyx, and Remund.

9. Would you ever be willing to give any of your OCs to someone else?

Only if I didn’t have a personal connection to them, which I do for a crap ton of my characters. I’ve only given away one character and that was because I didn’t have that connection. Somebody like, say, Flooken? I would never consider giving him up.

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design?

I don’t really have any tbh. The whole point of my style is to be simplistic.

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?

Yes, Purity! She’s innocent, a bit naive, and a total extrovert.

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot

A female serial killer character made by my friend.

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs?

The Suits. All five of them. Oh, and also Note, and Hanret.

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory

There’s too many to choose from

15. Do you like to talking about your OCs with other people?

Yes

16. Which one of your OCs would be best at biology?

Sophie, because she kind of is a biologist.

17. Any OC OTPs?

Graalu x Qiospe, Hana x Seven, Ragdoll x Dollface, Drobyme x Remund, Kayla x Camilla

18. Any OC crackships?

Spindler x Duplin, Entity x Spindle

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you

So hey, this is Gretchen. I really like her.

20. Do any of your OCs sing?

Lots of them sing. The first one that comes to mind is Kamyx, she usually only sings when she’s alone and my voice of choice for her would be Bryana Salaz.

21. Your most artistic OC

The only one that I can think of right now is Drobyme.

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize?

I can’t really think of any, so I guess no

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would look like?

Almost all of my fantrolls. Because I recently redesigned them into humans for a non-homestuck related story

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?

Flooken, so I could hug him and tell him everything’s going to be alright and buy him 2001 chicken nuggets

25. The OC that resembles you the most

Coffee or Cupcake, because Coffee was based off all the craps I don’t give and Cupcake is my optimism.

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will?

Yes, this is a funny story actually. So I had been adopting several fantrolls off a person on Amino because I needed fantrolls for a fansession and I was going creatively bankrupt at the time. But it turns out there had been a mixup and one of the trolls I adopted was actually adopted by someone else first, so I had to give her up. And then I just adopted another troll and gave her the same name.

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?

I’ve had backstories that I’ve fleshed out a bit more using songs, but I don’t think I have any characters that were inspired by a specific song.

28. Your most dangerous OC?

It’s a tie between Kamyx and Reaper

29. Which one of your OCs would investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?

There’s no doubt in my mind it would 100% be Gabby.

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection?

Quinn, Pindle, Ivisd, or Cressida.

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain their Tumblr blog layout.

Okay, let’s go with Baxter.

He’s got the default blog layout, burgundy background with black text. His icon is a purple eye and his header image is just a black fill. He posts about the weird crap he and his friends get up to, reblogs a lot of witchcraft, lots of divination and tarot cards. And also demons, he’s into demons. And then he has a more innocent side blog where he posts about baking.

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why?

Seven, because he’s a big scaredy cat but would probably be able to go through a horror game scenario if he had the proper motivation.

33. Your shyest OC.

Ivisd

34. Do you have any twin characters?

Totally. Kefi and Lypi, Noiche and Blanr, Blue and Pink, Quinn and Harriet. I even have a set of quintuplets.

35. Any sibling characters?

Yes, but if I listed them all we’d be here all week and this post is already too long.

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else?

Yes

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human

Most of my OCs aren’t human actually but uh I’ll go with Seven

He’s the one on the left. No one really knows what he is but he looks human, although his eyes are a bit weird (he’s also blind). He’s pathokinetic, always wears a yellow raincoat, and his LI is a tsundere. He’s not exactly shy but he’s a scaredy cat and always very very fretful

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer?

I’ve thought long and hard about this. And it has to be Lyric.

39. Introduce any character you want.

*ahem* I’m gonna do two

Aight so this is Entity (left) and Censor (right) and they’re my protagonist duo in my story. Censor is overly pessimistic and Entity is overly optimistic and they’re pretty much stuck with each other. They’re also both fugitives.

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters?

I remember playing Splatoon as some of my OCs and having lots of fun being terrible with their weapons.

41. Has anyone ever drawn fanart of yours OCs?

Yes

Qerri, Murck, Flooken, Flooken again, and Lyric

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods?

Lorelei, because she’s a god herself.

43. Do you have any certain types when you create OCs?

I tend to lean more towards making badass girls and fretful boys. I don’t know why it just happens more often than not. But I’ve been trying to push past it as of late.

44. Something you like about your OCs in general.

I just love them all. I view them all as my children and I love them.

45. A character you no longer use?

There are a few from stories I’ve scrapped and abandoned, but I still keep them around in case I need another cast member for another story. They’re just like understudies!

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly?

Yes and I do. I may love them but it’s tough love.

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child?

Yes

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

My baby boy Flooken, the best boy of them all

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes?

Entity, that little shit

50. Freebie!

Oh a freebie?

So I’ve got this google doc. I talk about it sometimes but I’ve never actually showed it to anyone outside of a very small group of individuals, but it does exist. I call it Ramager’s OC-Palooza of Epic Proportions and Broken Dreams. It lists every single one of my countless characters, all organized into sections based on what story or universe each character belongs to. In fact it was lagging so much that I had to make a second doc (Titled ‘(P2) Ramager’s OC-Palooza of Epic Proportion and Broken Dreams’). Collectively the two docs have a total of 207 pages. These docs are where I store every bit of information about my characters, including pictures, themes, voice claims, and more. I have been working on it since October of 2019. I’m still adding to it everyday. It terrifies me greatly.

#this is a longpost #ramagersart #yetanotherOCmeme #ramagerocs #longpost

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

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How to find extra money – become a psychic money hunter!

BY PIP DE BELFRY

It was one of those grey days when I’d hardly slept a wink for worrying about money. As I lay in bed, tossing and turning, dawn was breaking and I decided to DO something positive about it. Those bills weren’t going to pay themselves, so action was called for.

I “borrowed” my grand-daughter’s box of chalks, picked up my bottle of Fast Money Oil and two small green candles and headed out.

Fast Money Oil is something to keep handy. As it takes a while to steep and become powerful, it’s best made in advance, ready for use when you need it. You can buy it online, or you can make your own, which makes it more powerful. If you want to try this, you will need:

45 coffee beans or a tablespoon of gunpowder tea

a tablespoon of dried basil

a handful of cinnamon chips

a handful of cedar chips

a heaping teaspoon fenugreek seeds

a tablespoon of powdered almond resin (can be bought in Indian/Asian food stores) or frankincense

a handful of abre camino herb

a piece of citrine

5 pearls

5 small chips of amber

enough almond or sunflower seed oil to fill a 1/2 litre jar

a green or yellow or golden cloth

gold leaf or flakes or a small piece of scrap gold, preferably something worn by one of your loving Ancestors

You can also add some John the Conqueror root, but sometimes this muddles things, so I tend to leave it out unless I have time for it to mix without adding confusion.

Before you begin, light some money incense and offer up thanks to Abuntia, the Goddess of prosperity and abundance. Concentrate on your goals while you do this.

Add everything to the jar, close it and give it a good shake. As I said, this oil can take a while to do its work, so it’s best if you can wrap it in a green cloth and store it somewhere dark until it is needed. If you feel the need to shake it while it matures, go with your feelings.

I set off to a small park near our home, where there are the ruins of an old bombed church. It’s a really peaceful place at that time in the morning.

What you are doing here is to call on the shamanic powers that our ancestors used to use to hunt. What you are about to do is literally “hunt” for money.

I found a small, paved area and sat down to do my workings. The first thing to do is to sit and breath deeply and calmly, and centre your thoughts.

I anointed my candles with Fast Money Oil, remembering to draw the oil (and the money!) towards me, and called on Nike, the God of speed (why do you think Nike chose their name for running shoes?) to help me.

The next thing I did was to draw some simple pictures of myself (they were stick people, it really doesn’t have to be a work of art, just keep the intentions in your mind) receiving money. I drew a picture of a big, fat check in my hand, and surrounded the image with words like “money” and “wealth”, plus a few money symbols for good measure. Make your drawing really colourful, but bear in mind to use lots of greens, which is the colour of money and growth. I then set myself to calming my mind and aligning myself with the forces of Nature.

It was at this point that I sensed someone was watching me. There was a young man looking at what I was doing with interest. As I said, the park is usually quiet and deserted at that time of the morning, and I suspected from his appearance that he was maybe homeless and had been sleeping in the church ruins. I felt instinctively that he was genuinely curious, and in need, so I explained to him what I was doing. He listened intently, and when I had finished, asked if I could show him what to do.

And so it was that I gave him my grand-daughter’s chalks, making a note to buy her some more later and the candles. He thanked me warmly, and as I walked off home-wards, I could see him seating himself on the paving slabs, preparing to give it a try.

Although I passed on the magick, it is best to try and keep this one a bit private. This is why I chose the early morning, when there was an early morning mist, as then the workings are washed away by the dew. Allowing Nature to run its course is all part of getting your message into the ether with this working. If you decide to try and give it a spin, let me know what results you get. Happy money hunting!

https://pipdebelfry.com/how-to-find-extra-money-become-a-psychic-money-hunter/

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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for all the honest world to feel (trixya) (2/8) - dare

When your skill set is limited to being a real person around your friends and family and a fake person around random strangers, you’re kind of fucked for being a real person around a basically-stranger.

He texted Katya: ’can’t remember how to interact with ppl when they’re not paying and lining up to meet me. do u know a good therapist.’

(AN: part two! i meant to get this up on monday so it would be one week squarely, but, on the flipside, this is legit twice as long as part one at 8.3k words. whoops? this is for M, who is to blame, because she said “where’s my 100k trixya slowburn fic with bonus adore friendship” and sunk me down this rabbit hole. i don’t quite love u 100k worth, but like, somewhere between 30-40% of that probably. thank u to dandee for reassuring me that this isn’t garbage!)

FROM: BOB - 11:03 AM - Thursday August 3rd, 2017

Your bf is talking crazy online again, u should prob check in w her

The one who looks like the baby eater from pan’s labyrinth

Girl

Txt me when u have a sec ok, it’s been a while

“So I cleared out my drag and opened a window last night – if it still stinks a little, I’ve got these candles that smell really fucking good, I can hook you up.”

“This is great, thanks,” Brian said, looking around. “Really, thank you so much for this. It’ll just be a few days while I figure out what’s next.”

“It’s no problem, girl. Whatever you need.” Adore swung her arms at her side. “Listen –”

Somewhere in the living room, a phone started blasting Britney’s Lucky.

Adore twitched in its direction, like a startled dog; “Shit,” she said, “I’ve gotta take that. Eat whatever’s in the fridge, I’ll do groceries later, and if you can find booze it’s yours but I’m pretty sure I’ve cleaned this place out, man. I’m coming, I’m coming!” she called in the direction of the phone as she disappeared through the door.

Brian dropped his guitar on the bed. Then he sat down beside it, at a bit of a loss.

Adore poked her head back around the frame.

“Hey, do you prefer, uh –”

The phone was still going off. “Uh,” Brian said, glancing over Adore’s shoulder.

Adore flapped a hand. “I know who it is, I can call them back. Just, like, we’ve only really hung out at shows. Do you prefer I call you one way or the other?”

“Trixie, I guess,” Brian said after a moment. He shrugged. “Trixie’s fine.”

“Cool,” said Adore with a smile. She was out the door before Brian could ask her the same.

Brian looked at the door, falling shut, then at the walls, and then down at the bedspread underneath him.

When he finally went out to the kitchen, Adore was on the couch, phone at her ear and knees pulled up to her chest. She didn’t seem to notice Brian; to be fair, she barely seemed to be listening to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Brian got himself some water, made a sandwich out of the scraps left over in the fridge, and slipped back into the guest room as quietly as he could. He ate sitting on the floor – there was no desk or chair in the room, and he wasn’t going to eat on somebody else’s bed; his mother had raised him, well, not right, but pretty okay – with his laptop balanced on his knees, watching some British baking show that Kim was obsessed with to calm his nerves before he checked his email or twitter.

He could hear Adore from outside, just a little, talking in a more serious tone than he’d ever heard from her. And that was weird, but there was no part of this that wasn’t weird. He was sitting on Adore Delano’s floor in Seattle; the nice, antique hardwood was biting into his ass. Like. Weird didn’t begin to cover it.

“What the fuck am I doing,” he said under his breath, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket like he’d been dying to since he arrived and woke it up.

There was nothing new from Katya under the column of message bubbles from Bob, which he’d received but not answered that morning. He tapped in his password and opened iMessage, scrolled past Bob with a mild guilty itch, and opened his and Katya’s chat. He thought for a moment, then started typing.

TO: Katya - 7:22 PM

some white girl’s been talking about me on the internet again

💖

The white ellipsis appeared almost immediately, flickering in and out of view, but no reply came.

After a minute, he typed and sent,

TO: Katya

Check in girl

The ellipsis flickered one more time and then a response appeared within seconds.

FROM: Katya

👌

His shoulders, which had been rising with the ringing of early alarm bells in his head, dropped and loosened. The uncommunicative but will survive signal they’d agreed on during one of the more hellish stretches of touring in 2015 was doing its job. He sent back another heart, then a picture he’d taken of his room – guitar on the bed, bags on the floor, and the hooks sticking out of the walls where, he assumed, clothing lines had hung to hold up Adore’s drag. His knees and his dinner balanced on top of them (the laptop having been abandoned to the floor before he could break it, juggling all his things like Icarus flying into the sun) were in the foreground, slightly out of focus.

He sent it over and added,

I love art

Katya responded with a heart wrapped up in a bow.

Around eleven, Brian heard the door outside open and close, and then, very faintly, footsteps on the stairs. When he poked his nose out of the guest room, the living room was empty, Adore’s phone lying abandoned on the coffee table. An unsettling, absolute quiet blanketed the apartment.

He slipped through the living room, then stood under the shower for a good twenty minutes regretting every choice he’d ever made.

Adore was back when he came out, sitting at the table that stood against the island separating the living room from the kitchen. Takeout containers covered the table and the smell of Chinese food filled the air.

“Hey!” she said when she saw Brian, brightening. “Grab a fork, I got a shitton of everything. You’re veggie, right?”

“Yeah,” Brian said. “But I’m, like, Wisconsin-veggie, not LA-veggie. If there’s nothing else I’ll eat it.”

“I got you, bae,” said Adore, sliding a carton down to the end of the table.

Brian laughed as he sat. “I’ve got you, bae,” he sang, not fully expecting Adore to get it, but her eyes lit up and she poked her fork fervently in his direction.

“I fucking love Johnny Cash,” she said. “Hang on, where’s my laptop – you mind if I put on some music?”

Brian waved his carton, like, please, go ahead, but Adore was already bouncing out of her seat and rushing off before he’d even finished the gesture. A few moments later the Folsom Prison Blues rumbled out across the apartment – and the space suddenly felt less hollow, the corners seemed less angular, and something about this airy Seattle rental with its expensive antique furniture and discordant hippie love beads was suddenly akin to the small warmth of his grandparents’ old home.

He tipped his head back on his neck, stretching out the aches, and hummed along, fingers marking out chords on the side of his carton.

“Have you listened to any of the stuff June did by herself?” he called across the room. “Wildwood Flower will change your fucking life.”

There was no answer. A moment later, Adore came back out of her room, frowning slightly as she typed away on her phone.

Brian watched for a second, then ducked his head and returned to his food.

He was halfway through his carton before Adore looked up again, setting her phone down on the table. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “My mom would murder me for having my phone at dinner with a guest here.”

Brian waved her off. “It’s your house, girl.”

“Still –” Her phone buzzed insistently, rattling against the table. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, grabbing at it.

There was some more rapid-verging-on-furious typing. Brian glanced over every few seconds, a thought slowly occurring to him. He chewed methodically through the bite he’d just taken but barely tasted it at all; when Adore kept typing, hitting the top of the screen intermittently and scrolling like she was moving between multiple conversations, his stomach turned over and he blurted, “Have you told anyone I’m staying here with you?”

Adore looked up. Her eyes darted across his face for a moment, then she frowned, like what she saw wasn’t adding up. “No,” she said.

“Okay.” Brian tapped his fingers against the side of his carton. “Listen, could we, like… keep it between us? Me being here?”

“Here as in my place or here as in Seattle?”

“Seattle.”

Adore was still looking at him like that, brows pinched together, and he waited for the question he knew was coming – are you okay? Or, worse, do you want to talk about it?

Instead, Adore nodded slowly. “Yeah, for sure.”

The moment stood, suspended; the thudding guitar-beat filled the room in their stead. If they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train were mine, the walls echoed. I bet I’d move it farther, a little farther down the line –

Adore’s mouth moved, like she was biting at the inside of her lip, but then she relaxed and turned back to her food. “My brothers used to blast Johnny Cash in the backyard,” she said, like an offering. “You know, holding Grandma’s antique lamp like a guitar in front of their chests and yelling about prison.”

“Oh my god, same,” Brian said, laughing out of sheer surprise. “Well, my brother with Grandma’s lamp. It was my Granddad who’d put the tape on in the first place, so really, who’s to blame here?”

Adore grinned. “You and me, we knew better than to fuck with Grandma’s porcelain.”

“Bitch, completely,” Brian said, then barked a laugh. “You know how it is – the only family antiquity I ever got in trouble for handling was my great-uncle’s c–”

Adore’s phone buzzed again.

“Trixie Mattel, you are fucked,” said Adore through her laughter, grabbing haphazardly at her phone. “Like, in the head. No wonder Bianca likes you.”

Brian gasped and pretended to swoon.

“Fucked,” Adore repeated. Then she glanced down at her screen and sighed. “Sorry, I’ve gotta make another call.”

The moment she was back in her room, that same pall fell across the floor again; the feeling that Brian was so unthinkably out of place that the whole room was being distorted around him, like water slopping out of a previously-peaceful tub. He looked at the table. From the other room, the music stopped. He could hear Adore talking, staccato, rapid words piling up like a highway crash and then dropping into silence. If he tried, he could probably make out what she was saying.

She still wasn’t back by the time he’d finished his food. She’d taken one carton with her; he cleared away the rest into the kitchen, where he searched briefly for containers before becoming uncomfortable with the idea of digging through somebody else’s cupboards. There was a roll of saranwrap, no box, on the marble-finish countertop, so he used that to wrap the remaining food up as airtight as possible. He stacked them in the fridge (which was, for the record, an absolute graveyard) and grabbed one of the beers in the door for himself. He was just cracking the cap with the opener in the sink – he wasn’t the kind of gay who carried a swiss army knife, although he suspected that would be his final evolution – when Adore came back in, still on the phone.

He tipped his beer at her, offering. She shook her head. She’d taken off her wig; there was a bobby pin still sticking out from her bangs. The phone was pressed to her ear again and she looked like she was considering whether to make her warranty worth it. A new, unlit joint was clutched between the fingers of her other hand.

Whoever was on the other end must have said something particularly stupid, because she rolled her eyes and started off towards the balcony. She made an apologetic face at him across the room but he waved her off, mouthing good luck as he made his way to the guest room.

With the door shut behind him, the bare space felt like it was staring into his soul. Off-white walls, red sheets and duvet. No pictures.

To be totally fair, his own bedroom was pretty minimalist too. But it was like this little room was wholly separate from the rest of the apartment, which – while obviously an expensive pre-furnished rental – was littered with the detritus of life: pictures of Adore’s family stuck up all over the fridge, an oversized sweater slung over the back of the couch, half-burnt prayer candles on the mantle, and sheet music scattered over the coffee table.

It’s the guest room, he reminded himself. It’s the drag room. He hadn’t left home expecting to find home.

He was being stupid.

Halfway through his beer, his phone buzzed. He was stretched out on the bed in his boxers with a book; when he heard it go off across the room, he nearly spilled all over himself in his haste to get to it. He tugged it out of his jeans’ pocket and woke the screen up, already telling himself he was being an idiot for hoping so hard, but there it was – a new message notification from Katya.

I’m sorry about the periscope, it read.

He flew through his password and opened his messages. Settling himself cross-legged on the end of the mattress, he hunched over his phone and typed,

Girl no you dont have to be sorry for that. Did you say antyhign about me? No.

Yes, Katya replied.

He rolled his eyes, even though the message – the simple honesty of it – made something in his chest squeeze tight. Okay, but not so anyone else could tell for sure, he typed.

Should have asked tho. Or not done it at all. You dont like having your shit out there & here i am laying my corpse out for public autopsy with ur name in sharpie on my spleen

Brian laughed under his breath.

Your spleen? Wtf even is a spleen

All other organs completely atrophied :( mass necrosis :( spleen’s the only thing left but it’s urs, Katya sent.

Brian navigated out of his messages and flicked open Safari to google “spleen,” then he burst out laughing, half-yelling, before he remembered where he was. He screenshotted the page and sent it over.

U CAN KEEP UR ATROPHIED CORPSE BLOOD BITCH

And then, because he couldn’t resist: lucy, u got some ‘spleenin to do.

AHHHHHHHHHH, Katya replied.

Brian grinned down at his phone while the little ellipses kept on flickering. He had five more puns off the top of his head and two of them were actually good – but then the next message came through, and the smile slid off his face.

I am sorry though.

And then,

I dont know all of why you left but i can guess part of it. And i shouldnt have done that, knowing it.

I feel like i chased u away & then made it worse.

Brian swallowed. He looked away from his phone, up and out the window at the stretch of Seattle visible over the low roof of the building across the street – grey buildings, yellow lights, deep blue sky. Leafy green unfurled between the rows of buildings, trees demarcating where the gap of the street escaped the naked and distant eye. At the farthest edge of his vision, the navy-black of the sky melted into the ocean on the horizon. And then there was him – lost somewhere in the middle of it.

Was this running away? Sort of. Was it worse?

He turned back to his phone and thumbed it awake again. He typed, you didn’t. Don’t be stupid.

The beginnings of a response flickered on the left side of the screen; he raced to finish – i don’t want you to not be you. i LIKE you.

The ellipsis disappeared.

Brian yawned into his palm, dropped back onto the bed and scooted up until his head was on the pillow. Pushing up onto his elbow, he stretched to turn off the bedside lamp; the clock at the top of his phone’s screen said it was pushing 12:30 and he was completely wiped. Fuck, he was old.

Speaking of old, Katya was typing again.

I like u too. Shocking i know. I still feel bad but i wont have a breakdown or anything over it, promise

Brian grinned tiredly.

I’m not worth a breakdown? I thought i was on ur spleen

Go to bed you wretched cunt, Katya replied.

Brian sent another heart emoji, then switched his phone to sleep mode, shut his eyes and relaxed back. The wall on his left glowed dimly with light from the window, which had no curtains, but it wasn’t enough to keep him awake. His eyelids grew heavy. He kept thinking hazily, like it was coming from somewhere outside his own body, about how Katya would smile around the words if he’d spoken that last text aloud.

When you were on the road as much as he was, it was the little things that mattered the most, the little things you carried with you. He moved too much to carry a lot. But the way Katya’s voice sounded when he smiled – Brian had carried that close, these last three years.

He was still thinking about it when he fell asleep, the low murmur of Adore on the phone whispering through the walls and Seattle grey and restful outside.

The next two days were weird.

It wasn’t that Brian didn’t know how to relax. It was just that he didn’t know how to be still. He hid out in his room but his mind ran off without him, thoughts spinning from Seattle to LA and back again. The frantic energy would build up inside him until he had to go outside, fuss around in the fridge without picking anything, step onto the balcony for just a minute before going back inside – struck by the deeply paranoid conviction that someone was watching him.

Fucking crazy.

So he’d go back in his room, chip away at the book he’d brought – Gillian Flynn’s depiction of the Midwest was unflattering but one hundred percent accurate, right down to the murder rate – firmly not-thinking about his laptop, waiting, and the whole wide internet out there and all the speculating that may or may not be happening.

It had been one day, he told himself. One and a half now. There was no speculating.

Fucking, fucking crazy. He was breaking away from dire realist in the direction of paranoid schizophrenic. But he’d sit there, or lie there, as the case may be, and he’d flip pages until he realized he wasn’t reading at all, and then he’d put the book down and just think, about all the shit he was doing wrong, the massive and ominous precedent of shit he’d done wrong in the past, all the responsibilities he was letting slide, the momentum he was losing by the minute, and, worst of all, Katya.

And eventually he’d reach some dumb-ass breaking point and repeat the whole pattern. It’s not like the fridge had gotten more full. It’s not like he was actually hungry.

(What he wanted more than anything more than anything was to pick up his guitar, but the thought of interrupting the afternoon quiet like that made his stomach turn.)

To make it worse, Adore kept catching him on these ridiculous trips. Apparently she was as generous as she was talented because instead of looking at him like he was a lunatic or kicking him out of her house, she’d smile, like seeing him in her living room was completely normal – and Brian would echo it, his whole body suffused with awkwardness.

The fifth time it happened, Adore was just getting off a call. She reached out to grab his arm as he was passing by to say, “Hey, tacos tonight?”

And Brian said yes, and then, remembering the previous night, “I never really got around to asking. Do you have a preference? Like, Adore, or –?”

“Adore’s good,” she said. She blew her bangs – short again today – out of her eyes. “I feel like I’m always a little bit in drag, you know? And anyway, only my family calls me Danny all the time.”

“Same,” Brian said, huffing a laugh. “The family thing, I mean.”

And then, at a loss for the next conversational turn, he pretended the plate of microwaved leftovers he was carrying – this trip being the first and only time he actually had a reason to leave the room – had suddenly become very hot, and juggled it awkwardly as he retreated with a sheepish smile.

That was it. That was the whole conversation.

‘Tacos tonight’ was actually a bag of veggie tacos Adore pressed into his hands on her way out to the balcony, phone pressed to her ear. Brian didn’t mind. He was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the realization that it wasn’t just Adore’s guest room he was crashing in on. It was her life.

He texted Katya:

can’t remember how to interact with ppl when they’re not paying and lining up to meet me. do u know a good therapist.

Katya sent him a skull emoji and a phone number. He laughed at the first; the second he stared at for a long time, then resolved to pretend it never happened.

Thursday started with Adore knocking on his door around ten to let him know she’d be livestreaming in the living room, and Brian smiling painfully to try to hide the fact that his palms had gone all sweaty. He ducked back in his room and stayed there for two hours, long past when Adore went quiet outside and the live vid must have ended. His heart rate kept picking up at random moments, which his high school level biology told him wasn’t really supposed to happen.

A little while later, Adore knocked again.

“What’s up,” Brian said, swinging the door open. A guitar was thrust immediately in his direction, so fast he had to throw his hands out to stop it before the neck could hit the doorframe.

“Oh, shit,” said Adore, and then, “Hey. Wanna teach me to play?”

Brian stared, and then he felt one side of his mouth tick up. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

They sat on the couch, turned towards each other, Adore with her piece of shit Yamaha (he wasn’t being mean for the sake of it, it really was a piece of shit) and him with his Gibson. She showed him the few chords she knew, fingers wobbly against the frets, glancing up at him under her bangs to check if she was doing it right. He remembered, suddenly and intensely, holding his Granddad’s guitar for the first time. How the strings pinched his fingers. He could almost smell the sage his Grandma hung in the windows, which filled the kitchen with a faint perfume on breezy summer days.

“Don’t press too close to the metal, it can mess with your pitch,” he said. “When you’re just learning you’ve gotta really nail the placement before you can fuck around with it. Like scales and runs, right?” He played a few chords of his own, clean as windchimes. “You do it right, and then you fuck it up. Intentionally.”

“It huuurts,” Adore whined. She laughed as she stretched her pinky for the third fret and slipped. “Oh my god, fuck this!”

“Suck it up, buttercup,” said Brian, grinning. “Here. The trick is to not think about how much it hurts or how bad you sound. What’s a song you really like?”

“Hit Me Baby One More Time.”

Adore had a shit-eating grin on her face, but if she thought Brian doesn’t know every word, she’d pegged him as the wrong bitch. “Okay, that’s – hang on – four chords, you know three of them. This is D minor,” he said, and demonstrated. “But don’t worry about getting it perfect. This is more about your fingers learning where they’re supposed to be. So four chords, and the rhythm is something like…”

He played the first line – four-four time, with a folk bent to the rhythm.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Adore, staring at him wide-eyed and laughing in disbelief.

“Don’t shut up, copy me,” Brian said. He was laughing too, playing the chords over and over. “Guitar is about rhythm as much as melody. The song is four-four, but you don’t strum four times to four beats precisely. Come on, do the upstroke, don’t be scared of it.”

“Don’t be scared of the upstroke,” Adore wheezed, and Brian gave a high-pitched scream of laughter.

“Um, this is serious,” he said, “why don’t you respect my art?”

Adore played an astonishingly sour chord and swore. “I don’t believe in, like, putting restrictions on what art is and stuff, but girl, I’m pretty sure this isn’t it.”

“Have a little faith in me,” said Brian. He played the chords through one more time then came in, quiet overtop, loading country into the vowels. “Oh baby baby how was I supposed to know…”

Adore burst out laughing, then broke in, “Not to be scared of upstrokes.”

“Bitch! Oh my god.” Brian thought quickly. “Oh baby baby I shouldn’t have let you go… dick like a mighty oak, yeah.”

Adore got up and started doing the iconic knee-socks-and-pigtails hallway choreo, shoulders shimmying, and Brian nearly dropped his guitar out of his lap he was laughing so hard.

But then they did some Fleetwood Mac, and some Lauryn Hill, and even a little Johnny Cash, although neither of them could sing low enough. And it was – kind of great. Just jamming, not on stage or in a club but in a home, where the acoustics weren’t great but the company was.

On Friday, Adore went out in the morning before Brian woke up, and didn’t come back until the sun was starting to set beyond the balcony, an orange glow covering the living room floor. She stopped in the front hall, shadowed; Brian, sitting on the couch with his guitar in his lap, couldn’t make out her face, but he could see the slump of her shoulders and her hands fisted at her sides.

“Adore?” he said, quietly.

She looked up, and then stepped further into the apartment so the tangerine light fell on her face. Her mouth was pinched tight. For the first time, Brian noticed faint stress lines around the corners of her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said. “Long day. What’s up?”

“The usual,” said Brian, shrugging a little. He reached up to fuss with back of his cap where it rested against his forehead. “I think a pigeon shat on the balcony. You should get a cat or something.”

Adore sighed, long and heavy. Then she dropped her bag and jacket to the ground and walked past him to the sliding doors, ragged converse scuffing against the floor. She didn’t even look at the site of the unfortunate incident; she just circled it on her way to the railing, where she propped her elbows up and leaned out, looking across the street at the city beyond.

After a minute, she put her head in her hands.

Brian fidgeted with his guitar, tension creeping up his spine like a pernicious weed. That feeling that had been so successfully foiled the previous afternoon – that he was intruding – was back. He curled his fingers tightly around the frets so the metal bit into his skin; then he picked up his guitar and retreated into the guest room, as quietly as he could.

At some point he dozed off; it was pitch dark outside his window when he woke, and he could hear Adore moving around the apartment restlessly. Not on her phone, like she often was. Just moving around.

He slept in fits and starts, and each time he drifted to consciousness he could hear her out there, still awake, wandering the contours of her home through the night like some anxious ghost.

Adore was still out there the next morning when he woke up, blearily stumbling out of his room at seven AM – one leg thrown over the back of the couch, painted toes catching the early light, fully crashed out. Even asleep, she was clutching her phone to her stomach, white-knuckled. He looked at her for a long moment. There was some kind of conclusion percolating in his brain, just out of reach; he felt, weirdly, like he was making a decision, although he wasn’t sure what it was yet.

She started awake with a grunt fifteen minutes later as veggie bacon sizzled on the stove.

“I’ll be running that off for a week, you fucking asshole,” she mumbled, draping one arm dramatically over her eyes.

Brian chuckled. “It’s veggie, girl,” he said. “No running required.”

“I love you,” she said plaintively, the words muffled against her skin. “Please stay forever.”

He pushed some bread into the toaster and scraped at the pan a few more times. Eyes glued to what he was doing, and with as much nonchalance as possible, he asked, “You get much sleep at all?”

She didn’t answer. She was staring up at the ceiling when he looked over his shoulder, her gaze distant, like the day before was coming back to her in one fell swoop. Brian was familiar with that particular feeling.

The decision – the one he’d been percolating on – reached him all at once.

“Adore?” he said. When she didn’t say anything, he tried, “Danny?”

She blinked and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you, uh,” he said, then told himself suck it up and pushed the rest out – “Do you have anything going on today? ‘Cause I was kinda thinking it would be nice to like. Go out. Do something.”

Adore sat up fully, crossing her arms over the armrest and looking at him inquisitively. Which was fair. He hadn’t left the house in the three days he’d been there so far. “You want to go out?”

No. “Yeah. I mean, if you want.”

Her face lit up, like he’d thought it might. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, fuck yes. I’ll give you the fucking tour, man. Seattle is literally so fucking stunning, you’re gonna – shit, Pike Place Market, you’re gonna go crazy. It’s like Chicago on speed, if it was way more white and smelled like fish.”

“I think the important question here is,” Brian said, sidetracked from his own anxiety, “when will we have a queen who’ll roll around on the docks for an hour before a show and go out on stage serving fish? Like giving you realness, honey. When will we have that queen?”

“Katya,” Adore pointed out. When he started laughing, she said, “No, I’m so serious. She’s gonna be living in a sea shack collecting beer caps and colourful glass from the shore to cast spells on people. I give it ten years but I’m telling you, it’s gonna happen.”

“Oh bitch, completely,” Brian said, grinning, then, “Shit, hang on,” as the bacon started to blacken and smoke. Once it was safely off the stove and onto a plate, he turned back. “So, Pike Market?”

“Pike Place Market,” said Adore. “Yes, fully yes. I don’t think stuff opens until, like, ten, so let’s eat, and then, I dunno, nap, and head out in like two hours. Seriously, Trixie, this is gonna be the best. Like you’re not even ready.”

Two hours, a plateful of bacon each, and some napping later, they left the house on foot, and twenty minutes later a flare of neon red appeared between two curtaining buildings. They emerged onto the street directly in face of the great fluorescent sign: PUBLIC MARKET CENTER, it read, on three levels of rails above a single-level shopping arcade, with a great clock-face suspended on the right side of the rails. It was only going on ten-thirty, but the entryway was bursting with flowers, the street outside awash with pedestrians going in, going out, or gawking as they passed by.

“Holy shit,” Brian said, and Adore turned to him and grinned.

“Get ready to lose your fucking mind,” she agreed.

He was so busy staring in every direction around him as they entered that he barely even registered the crowd; and it didn’t matter, because every other person was craning their neck doing the same. They entered into a farmer’s market, where stalls of brightly coloured fruits and vegetables were stacked one on top of another. Neon signs and banners overhead directed visitors and advertised wares; when it wasn’t food it was flowers, roses, sunflowers, carnations in gorgeous arrangements, eye-catchingly vibrant.

With a fiver Brian bought himself a pear while Adore went for a banana – “this is definitely not local,” she said, laughing, then proceeded to mime deep-throating it in the middle of a crowd of tourists while Brian giggled.

Past the farmer’s market there were cheeses, fresh meats, and, as promised, so much fish and salt he had to cover his nose for a second, although he was pretty sure that was rude.

“I’m from the country, bitch!” he said when Adore laughed at him. “I thought the ocean was something my brother made up to screw with me until I was, like, thirteen!”

“Shut up, you did not,” said Adore, shoving at his shoulder. Her grin was bright in the thin rays of sunshine that slipped through the slats overhead; she looked like she’d forgotten the previous day entirely. Which was exactly the point, and which made the way Brian twitched any time a stranger looked at him a second too long almost worth it.

There were bakeries and cafés further down the walkway, which seemed to go on forever, but Adore pulled him away and down some stairs. He followed the bobbing of her tiny ponytail – held up by one of those stupid two-loop elastics with the little plastic balls, which, yes – down to a second, lower level, where there were fewer people and he could actually see the wooden floors under their feet. The stores were more artisanal here – leatherworks, glass and jewelry, some vintage clothes stores they were going to have to demolish later, and –

“There,” he said, tugging at her arm, “There, there, tell me we’re going there –”

“Duh.”

A magic shop, the facade papered with old circus posters in red and black; inside, it was somehow two floors (“How?” he demanded, to which Adore replied, “Magic, bitch!”), the walls lined with books, magic kits stacked on tables, with a long counter on the left filled with pendulums, crystal balls, earrings, bangles, and rings. There was everything from whoopie cushions and itching powder to tarot sets stuffed in every inch of square space; and in the dead center of this colourful chaos stood a big glass box, like an old-school cinema popcorn maker or one of those stuffed animal claw games. It said FORTUNE TELLER in purple neon on the top. Inside there was a bust of a withered old woman; she had one hand up in some witchy gesture while the other was held out flat, cards splayed out in it face-down. She frowned out at the observer from under disturbed eyebrows, like she didn’t quite approve.

“This… is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Brian said, eyes wide.

Adore had already peeled off to talk tarot spreads with the woman behind the counter, with whom she seemed to be on a first name basis. Brian huffed a laugh, then turned back to the glass case, which was calling to him something fierce. He walked over, pulling out his phone as he went.

Katya would love this, he thought, and took a quick picture and sent it to her.

I can’t believe u followed me to seattle, he typed, and then, the humidity is really bad for ur skin, huh?

Katya replied with a string of exclamation marks followed shortly by a BITCH. YES.

Smh, he sent, then tucked his phone away again.

“Hey!” Adore called from behind him. “You want Steph to read your palm? Swear to god, it’s some real shit, man.”

“Stop it,” Brian called back, startling the woman behind the counter into laughter.

A larger group of tourists burst in then, college-aged, filling the center of the space and pointing everywhere excitedly. Brian made a face at Adore over their heads as he shifted back towards the wall to avoid them.

These kids weren’t really that much younger than him, but they looked like – god. Babies. A few noticed him looking and looked back; he turned away to inspect the books on the shelf behind him, tapping his knuckles frenetically against his thigh.

When no one approached him after a minute or so, he went from fake-looking at the titles to actually looking, and then browsing, and then he found himself flipping open a small book titled Witches’ Wisdom On Surviving The Apocalypse, which turned out to be full of free verse poems. One of them began:

We were burning long before you put your pyre under us

That’s where the power is

Start there.

He didn’t know a lot about poetry, so he couldn’t say if it was good or not. Probably there would be more than one copy stocked if it was. Still, when the crowd moved on to the second floor, he kept hold of it as he approached the counter – where Adore, he realized, frowning, had disappeared.

“You want me to ring that up for you, doll?” said the woman – Steph? – behind the counter. She was probably in her late forties, fuzzy curly mom hair, black cardigan, anatomically-correct heart necklace with tiny inscriptions he couldn’t read running along the big ventricular arteries. She was probably crazy; he liked her more or less immediately.

“Did you see which way, uh, Danny went? I think I’ve lost him.”

“Skipped up to the staff roof for a bit, I’ll show you where.” She looked down at the book in his hands and nodded. “You want me to ring that up for you?”

Brian looked down too, to where he’d been running his thumb across the two ravens on the cover unconsciously. “Yeah,” he said. “I have a friend who’ll go nuts for this.”

“You should read it too,” Steph said, accepting his card. “You look like you’ve seen a bit of apocalypse yourself. Door behind me, up the stairs. It’s supposed to be just staff, but Danny’s a sweetheart and he’s by all the time so we let him up.”

He nodded his thanks and waved off the offer of a little bag, ducking around the counter with the book still in hand. Through the door and up too many stairs led him to a beige landing and another door; through this one, he emerged into the sunlight, gulls overhead, and for a moment, staring up at the sky, he forgot where he was entirely.

“Trixie!”

He jerked back to himself, and went over to join Adore at the edge of the roof, leaning against a thick metal railing, staring out at the grey-green stretch of the ocean and the breaking waves.

“Sorry,” said Adore. “I meant to be back down before you noticed, but I guess I just – lost track of time.”

She had a lit joint in one hand, gaze distant.

“You okay, girl?” Brian said, hooking his elbows over the rail.

Adore looked at him sideways, like, really?

And – okay, that was fair. It’s not like Brian was one to talk.

Adore brought the joint to her mouth and inhaled deeply; she held her breath, then exhaled, a thin white plume drifting up into the robin’s egg blue of the sky.

“Crowds give me the shakes sometimes,” she said. “You know?”

Brian looked down at the toes of his sneakers poking out past the lip of the roof, then across at the water. The wind off the ocean ruffled the pages of his book as he held it up to shade his eyes.

“I don’t know if ‘shakes’ is the right word, but. Yeah.” He forced a smile. “That’s just where I live now.”

It was such a deeply insufficient answer, but when he tried to force anything else out, his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton; his throat closed up and he had to swallow, grit his teeth, look back out at the water.

“Trixie.”

He looked over. Adore was watching him, gaze steady.

“You can stay as long as you need,” she said. “I mean that.”

He swallowed again and nodded.

She turned back to look out too. The August sun beat down, but with the breeze at their faces, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was like the warmth of two bodies under a duvet; despite the conversation, Brian felt himself relaxing, eyes slipping shut and face tipping up towards the light.

He remembered walking down the Santa Monica Pier with Katya; he remembered taking Katya’s hand, and Katya’s brilliant smile when he did. And that same feeling – like all his stressors, all the shit in his life that he couldn’t seem to outpace or outwit, were melting away.

Adore nudged him in the side a few minutes later. “Listen,” she said, “some friends invited me out tonight for drinks at this cute little bar on Capitol Hill. You wanna come? It’s super chill. I have a show there later this month, actually.”

Brian shrugged his shoulders up awkwardly, then dropped them. “Not this time, I think,” he said. “Thank you, though.”

“No probs, girl.” Adore nudged him again. “Wanna get some sketchy food and go try on vintage clothes while the sales people stare at us?”

Brian laughed. “That’s a yes. Hard yes.”

Adore’s apartment was eerily quiet when he got back, her keys cutting into his palm with unfamiliar ridges and jingling an unfamiliar tune. He paused in the threshold, setting down his and Adore’s bags, and looked out at the low sun in the west, the rays cutting golden across the otherwise-dim living room.

He walked in and stood for a moment where the rays just began to touch his face. He hovered his hands over the back of the couch, a bare breath away, then shook his head and went around it, dropping his new book onto the coffee table and sinking down into the cushions.

He meant to do something – read, get his guitar, get his notebook – but instead, he nodded off into the deepest sleep he’d had in weeks.

It was dark when he jostled awake, with just a thin sliver of light glowing from under Adore’s bedroom door. Something near him – on him – was buzzing. Drugged up with the last seconds of his dreams, for a second he wasconvinced it was bugs – and then it buzzed again, in the front left pocket of his jeans, and he remembered his phone.

When he pulled it out, Katya’s name was shining above the green call symbol.

He nearly dropped the phone in his haste to press accept. “Hey,” he said, “hey, hi. Hi stranger.”

“Hey yourself,” Katya said, and Brian could hear the smile in his voice like warm sunlight. “Have you seen my friend Tracy? She vanished into the night and no matter how many Christmas bulbs I tape to my wall I can’t seem to find her.”

“Is that what you’re calling interior decorating now? Bitch, I’ll take the demi-gorgon,” Brian said, and grinned into the dark as Katya cackled delightedly. When he’d settled again, Brian added, “Hey. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You too. I’ve missed you,” said Katya. He made a dismissive sound, then, and said, “I mean, I know that’s stupid, we’ve gone longer than a week without talking on the phone and much longer without seeing each other, but. I missed you anyway. And all the festering guilt probably made it worse.”

Brian pushed himself up to sitting, pulling his knees in towards his chest and resting his cheek against the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t be telling you anything you don’t already know if I said you don’t need to feel guilty, right?“

“Yeah.”

“You process better out loud. That’s not, like, news to me. And I didn’t…” he trailed off, trying to get his thoughts in order. “I don’t want to take away something that’s good for you, something you use to cope, because it’s not something I like or want for myself. Like how selfish would I have to be – that’s not what I want.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I get the radical honesty thing, you know? It’s just…”

“It’s not how you operate, I know,” Katya said. “And I knew you wouldn’t be mad, although I still think maybe you should be.” He laughed. “So I’ll quit apologizing for periscoping about my, uh, emotional duress. But I will still say sorry for putting that day out there. That was meant to be just ours. So – sorry.”

They were dancing around it, and Brian knew it was for his sake, but he wondered if maybe it was for Katya’s too, a little. “Apology accepted,” he said quietly. He rubbed his thumb along the knuckles of his index finger, feeling out the juts of bone and the softness of skin on skin. “And how goes the emotional duress?”

Katya huffed a laugh. “Oh, you know. Enduring.” Brian rolled his eyes in the dark. Katya seemed to know it because he laughed again, just quiet, intimate beside Brian’s ear. “I’m doing better now,” he said. “It took a few days. It was like I knew consciously that all of this couldn’t be just my doing, that there were all kinds of factors that I may or may not know about, but try telling my crazy brain that.”

“I know,” Brian said, pressing the phone closer to his ear, like that would accomplish literally anything. “I”m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Katya said. “Just promise me you’ll talk to me when you’re ready.”

“I will, of course I will.”

It felt to Brian like he needed to offer something up, something to bridge the gap of hurt he’d left behind – in both of them – when he left LA at the end of the tracks. But unlike that moment in the bright afternoon sunlight with Adore, here, now, it felt almost easy to find a little piece of himself and hand it over. Because the room was dark, and this was Katya.

“We went to Pike Place today,” he said. “Adore and I. It was amazing, you would love it, but – it was the first time I left the house since I got here. Basically the first time I left the guest room.”

Katya made a soft noise.

“My shoulders go up when I’m around a crowd of people. Just thinking about going out for drinks with Adore’s friends tonight made my pulse race. It’s not – I’m not anxious. I’m pissed. And… concerned about the consequences of being pissed, because I’m so frustrated and done and so much shit could go wrong – I could lose everything.” He scrubbed a hand roughly over his head. “I can’t stop thinking about it. So maybe anxious isn’t so far off.”

“I wish I were there,” Katya said, his voice a quiet rumble, like morning waves at low tide.

Brian closed his eyes. “I wish you were too.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Brian’s eyes were starting to slip shut, each blink lasting a little longer, but he could feel the tension in his shoulders still, and he could see the stress dreams coming at him from a mile away. He forced his eyes open and said, “Let’s talk about something else. Just before I go to sleep.”

“Tell me about Pike Place,” Katya said immediately. “Was it amazing?”

“So amazing,” said Brian. “There’s this fucking – girl. There’s a fucking magicshop. The woman behind the counter is on first name basis with Adore and she offered to read my palm.”

Katya screamed very quietly on the other end of the line. “See my future with them hands, bitch,” he crowed, and Brian was laughing, saying, “Bitch, yes.”

“Okay, okay, that’s amazing,” Katya said. “Is that where that hag you sent me was?”

“You’d better believe it. Oh! I got you a present.”

“What?” A smile curled through Katya’s voice. “What is it what is it what is it?”

“I found this little book of poems,” Brian said; “Witches’ Wisdom On Surviving The Apocalypse.”

“Oh my god, I need it.” There was a pause, and then Katya said, “Read some of it to me?”

“Hang on.” Brian used the dim light of his phone screen to find the book on the coffee table, then to skim through the pages for the lines that had caught his eye before. He lifted his phone back to his ear, angling it awkwardly so the light was enough to read by if he squinted. “Okay. So this one is called, uh, Battle Plans. It starts:

We were burning long before you put your pyre under us

That’s where the power is

Start there.

But this isn’t work for one –

So start there

And start with you, and start with me;

This is work to be done with love.”

The sound of Katya’s breathing over the line as he read was like a warm blanket; his eyes dipped, shut, blinked open again and again. His words faltered. He picked up the thread once, then again.

His head nodded forward. His phone fell into his lap. At some point, on the other end of the line, Katya ended the call – Brian woke up the next morning to find his screen read “Call Ended - 24m13s” (on what had been, at most, a fifteen minute conversation.)

He looked down at his phone, and he smiled.

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #adore delano #dare #rpdr fanfiction #fathwtf #canon compliant

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