#i don’t mean to sound so self absorbed about my own opinions but hey i’ve got some thoughts about that lol

[devilsskettle]

hi @pedropascalvstimotheechalamet sorry for responding to you this way, this got too long to send via dm and it was easier to add the links this way, also hopefully other people might have some thoughts about this topic as well!

i might not be the best person to ask about this tbh, my base of knowledge and opinions are mainly around horror movies for one thing and i know there’s been a lot of criticisms of this phenomenon from other genres, like superhero and action movies where there’s the Strong Female Character trope where people try to write feminist characters but end up making them empty, unrealistic characters with no flaws or characteristics other than being “strong” (in action movies, typically physically strong/good at fighting) and a lot of times they still end up being sexualized or objectified (like black widow in the mcu, especially when she’s first introduced. she’s a “role model” because she can fight but she has no personality, she’s a plot device, and she’s hyper-sexualized for the male gaze). i don’t have any good sources for this though! i’ve just seen people talk about it on the internet lol. i can point you in the direction of some other posts on here either that i’ve posted or seen and agreed with but also i’m definitely not an expert, i just have strong opinions, they’re mainly based off my judgment of what i’ve seen other people say and my personal analysis of a lot of media, not on like peer reviewed academic sources for the most part. some of the things i can refer you to might only be tangentially related to this, tbh i remember the post you’re talking about but i can’t find it now lol so i hope i can point you in the direction of some opinions that will be interesting to you

that being said, one example is the autopsy of jane doe, i wrote about it a bit here and have some links to other people’s reviews (and why i think they’re not quite accurate lol but you can judge for yourself of course)

and the witch and midsommar are also movies that gets this “girl power” treatment and i simply think it’s insane to think either of those have happy endings or ultimately that the protagonists of either film end up in a good place so: 1 & 2

i would also suggest reading men, women, and chainsaws by carol clover for the original way she defines “final girl” characters, here’s the introduction to the most recent edition that talks about how that term gets used now and why it’s been sort of co-opted to have a “girl power” meaning when that’s not inherent to the phenomenon she’s discussing, the rest of the book goes into more detail but i think the intro gives you a pretty good idea

i’ve also talked about gone girl ad nauseum, there’s a lot out there looking at the reception of the book and film that wants to make the conflict very gendered, either absolving amy of all her faults or completely demonizing her when she’s a complex character and there are other issues in the book including class and race that end up getting overlooked in favor of talking about gender as men vs women which i think is overly simplistic and lends itself to gender essentialism and is also sexist in the way that gillian flynn as an author isn’t afforded the same complexity as comparable male authors (stephen king is terrible at writing women, some of his stories DO posit gender essentialist ideas of what it’s like to be a man, but if you criticize him for it people will shrug it off. but gillian flynn is a misandrist for writing characters like amy and nick dunne! when she’s just writing complex unlikable interesting characters lol it has way less to do with gender than people make it out to be) and also it affords her female characters less humanity than male characters. anyway here’s some things i said about it before so i’m not just ranting at you lol: 1

and how i think other stories avoid “girl boss-ing” their female characters: 1 & 2

and some other things people have said about it: 1, 2, & 3

and what gillian flynn herself has said about writing women

here’s some refs for women in horror more generally, i don’t know if any of it will be of interest to you but it may be

so yeah those are some things i can think of off the top of my head, if anyone else has any thoughts or resources about “girl boss” or the “strong female character” trope, please feel free to chime in!

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety.  Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them.  Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. 

 Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out. 

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?” 

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored. 

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!” 

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked. 

“...No.” 

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?” 

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?” 

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained. 

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?” 

Virgil waited. 

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added. 

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure. 

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly. 

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.” 

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone. 

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to. 

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop. 

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully. 

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them. 

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?” 

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.” 

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.” 

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight. 

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.” 

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”  

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped. 

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?” 

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.” 

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie. 

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.” 

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?” 

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over. 

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.” 

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment. 

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.” 

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket. 

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?” 

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them. 

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something? 

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible. 

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it. 

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.” 

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?” 

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.” 

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say. 

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe. 

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?” 

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.” 

“Right, right,” Virgil said. 

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked. 

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him. 

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?” 

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?” 

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.” 

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?” 

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed. 

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off. 

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear. 

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked. 

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.” 

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

Logan shook his head. “No, never.” 

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness. 

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired. 

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building. 

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area. 

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway. 

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby. 

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.” 

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.” 

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?” 

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him. 

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him. 

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up. 

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.” 

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries. 

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly. 

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began. 

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise. 

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.” 

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face. 

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.” 

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding. 

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus. 

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words. 

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it. 

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly. 

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead. 

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees. 

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red. 

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.” 

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it. 

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.” 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus. 

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.” 

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.” 

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?” 

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?” 

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed. 

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees. 

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?” 

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while. 

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!” 

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge. 

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked. 

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?” 

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.” 

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching. 

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.” 

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”  

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.” 

“But, like, research? Drafts?” 

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil. 

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him. 

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.” 

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.” 

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to. 

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.” 

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?” 

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking. 

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?” 

Logan perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it. 

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05 

[painted-crow]

Could you plrase talk about how your Lion model works with your Bird primary? I think I may be a Bird who models Lion...

Bird + Lion model

I've written about this a few times before, so before I get to today's post about it, I'll dig up and link the old ones:

First in-depth post about it

Follow-up to above (a lot of people like this metaphor!)

Those posts are from a while ago, and my relationship to my Lion model has changed, so here's an update on that ^^

Bird + Lion v2

I've been working on listening to my Lion model more, since it seems much healthier than the explodey Badger primary model I was using up until recently-ish (and am still trying to drop).

It's nice! This is going to sound odd, but using Lion feels like... it's on your side? It's really different from Bird or Badger, and it feels like it's stabilizing my self-definition a lot, oddly enough. Like, it's there to remind you that you're a reasonable person and you're doing your best, which seems basic but it's very reassuring.

See, Birds' identity can be very fluid, and sometimes we do worry that we can talk ourselves into anything, that if we get too many things wrong we might become someone we don't like. I'd wonder if this was just me, but I've seen other Birds come through my inbox with the same problem. Meanwhile, unhealthy Badger wants to define you by what other people think of you, and that's... really not good at all. It's an anxious place to be.

Plus, there can be pieces of a Bird's system that we've picked up and kept for so long that we don't even see them and can't question them. That was my problem with unhealthy Badger: I absorbed it from my parents (who hold themselves to unhealthy Badger ideals) without getting a chance to think about it. Lion is actually really good at going "that thought doesn't sound right. Is it really coming from you, or is that something you picked up? Do you really believe that? Have you looked at it properly?"

Which, using Lion to pick out parts of my system for Bird to reexamine has to rank for the most oddly specific support role I've ever seen a model take, but it's really good at labeling which thoughts are from the Badger model I'm trying to get rid of.

So lately, when someone asks me a question that gets parsed through my primary, I've actually been getting 3 distinct thoughts: the first one is usually from Bird, and its tone is generally neutral/thoughtful/sounds like my voice. The second one is from Badger, and might just be an overall feeling of "you should actually be like..." (with varying levels of guilt trip). And then the third one is Lion going "hey, no, that doesn't vibe, that's not actually yours, check it again."

It's very, very strange listening to your thoughts argue with each other, but it's not bad. At least two of them like me now 😂

Expectations vs reality

(Please note: I don't mean to imply that I have low expectations of Lion primaries in general--I just didn't expect my model, specifically, to work this well.)

A little while ago, I decided to lean into using Lion on purpose, and I expected that to mean I'd have to start taking leaps of faith based on its judgment, like relying solely on Lion for some smaller decisions. Basically, I thought it had to be developed on its own, using it instead of Bird.

I expected it to need time and use before its judgment would be very good, or even before I'd be able to hear it well. Like it was the lowest level Pokemon on the team and needed to grind xp before it would be useful.

I'm also realizing just now that I lowkey expected it to try to talk over Bird and push its own decisions, which says something of what I'm used to from explodey Badger.

And I was expecting it to be like... "this is my opinion, I will not be taking questions, figure it out yourself." (Which, I still wanted it for that data, just because it isn't Badger.)

None of that is actually how it works. It's surprisingly chill and useful and nothing like as much work as I thought it would be.

Sometimes I "ask" Lion for its opinion, just checking how I feel about things, and it turns out... that's okay too. I don't feel pressure to act on that information, I can just ask myself for it and it's there, readily accessible.

I was expecting mystery, and what I actually got was clarity. Lion actually works with Bird instead of fighting it or yelling over it.

I'm a fan. 5 stars on Amazon.

---

I don't know if this information helps you with your Sorting, anon, given that your Lion model might show up in all kinds of different ways and might look nothing like mine.

This is a way it can look, though, apparently, and it definitely surprised me.

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

OC Kiss Week Day 5: Memory

WIP: Thriving series Pairing: Warren x Thrive Timeline: Thriving: Meridian CW: Some, like, pain and stuff. Injury? Uh, if you don’t like reading about people in sustained physical pain, then don’t read this lol. Also, blood. Rating: T Words: 1,729

***

“How bad is it?”

Thrive tightened his fists over the surface of the table, jaw wrenched closed, and shook his head. After a few beats during which the veins in his arms became alarming in their prominence, he released the breath he’d held. “It’s not as bad...as it was the last time.”

Warren cast a worried search over the screen of the organic data extractor from his position in the corner of the room. “Yeah...I’m not sure that’s making me feel better about this.”

Thrive grimaced and a hand reached up as if to remove the electrodes attached to his skull, but instead he pressed his fingers to his temple. “It merely means that Ataneq and I will have to adjust the ratio of input and...and the output of...no.” His face went blank. “I can’t think.” He slammed his wrist on the table and threw his head back, letting fly a lengthy swear in Solnai at the top of his voice.

Warren, understanding how much agony one had to be in to use that particular swear, switched the machine off and jumped to his side, kneeling beside his chair. “Okay, sweetheart, okay. That’s good enough.” He whipped an absorbent cloth from his pocket and dabbed the moisture from Thrive’s forehead, turning his face toward him and registering the swelling relief through not just through their physical connection, but their mental one as well. “You’re doing great. Let’s take a break.”

“I’d rather not,” Thrive rasped. “We’re close. This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“And I’d rather not watch you fry your beautiful brain to a crisp.” Warren dragged a second chair over and helped Thrive’s trembling hands hold the cloth to his neck and the rest of his face. “Also, this is very much not the most important thing you’ve ever done.”

Thrive grinned at him, as exhausted as he was in doing so. “Well...one could argue that you are the Most Important thing I’ve ever done.”

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” Warren muttered playfully, beginning to take the electrodes off of Thrive’s chest.

Thrive grabbed his hand. “No. One more.”

“Hey, I meant it when I said I was gonna put a stop to this if you punched that damn self-destruction button of yours again.” Warren gripped Thrive’s hand. “This machine is in its infancy and could kill you if you don’t take a break.”

Instead of the belligerence Warren expected, Thrive turned to him with excitement in his eyes. “The solution is right here. We could be moments away from a breakthrough. The entire kingdom is as close to being able to harness th’crode technology as you and I are right this second, Warren. You will be able to store your own memories without my help.”

“Yeah, I kinda know all of that—”

“Do you understand how difficult it has been for me to watch you forget?”

Warren paused. The excitement had fallen away to reveal a deep sadness, remorse he hadn’t seen in quite some time. “...It’s gotten pretty bad.”

“Yes.” Thrive applied pressure onto the electrode Warren had started to remove. “Conversations with you about our shared past have become daily reminders of my misjudgment. My selfishness. You shouldn’t have to rely on someone else to make sure your cherished memories never die over time.”

Warren looked from him to the data extractor. “I still think you need to do this while natural....”

“The point is to test the extractor’s capability on a human subject.” Thrive straightened his spine. “Our physiology may be different in a lot of ways while I’m human, but I’m not about to test it on you in this stage of development. All it needs is recalibration. I’ve suggested putting the extraction points directly on the brain, but that idea was shot down rather quickly.”

“Thank you, Ataneq,” Warren grumbled.

"Let me do this one last time.” Thrive pointed to the machine. “One last time. If it doesn’t work, I will give up for the rest of the day.”

Warren sighed into his hands. “I can’t. I can’t inflict more of this pain onto you. It’s too much. No, I’m saying no. If you wanna torture yourself one more time, you need to get someone else in here to do it.”

Thrive’s eyebrow quirked.

Which is how, ten minutes later, Warren found himself standing next to Thoeala on the other side of the room while Ataneq calibrated the machine.

Warren turned a frown to Thoeala.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna say no?” Thoeala laughed. “You think just because he’s my dad I have an opinion about his well-being?”

“Why are you still here if you didn’t want to do this, Pop?” Ataneq asked, repositioning the electrodes on Thrive’s head.

Warren sniffed. “Because if this doesn’t kill him, I will.”

Ataneq took Warren’s previous spot behind the extractor. “Right. Counting down from five. Father, recall a memory. Let’s keep it simple.”

Thrive screwed his eyes shut and nodded, hands tightly clasped together. “Test designation eight-four-six-four,” he said for the audio/visual records. “Recalling a memory of my last audience with Delegate Sinkship.”

“Simple,” Warren corrected. “Not painful.”

Ataneq swiped a finger over the screen. “Long live the King. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

A high-pitched whine rose from the machine and Thrive placed his hands flat on the table. “Yes...immediate drop in physical discomfort from designation eight-four-six-three.” He inhaled slowly through his nose, then released through his mouth. “My sinus cavities are warm and there is a sharp sting behind the eyes.”

“Holding onto the memory?”

“Yes. Begin transference...now.”

Ataneq had only just done what he was told when Thrive let out an unusual sound. A guttural wail he tried to suppress, hanging his head, face contorting into a grimace. Thoeala bristled beside Warren and Ataneq narrowed his eyes.

“There’s now...” Thrive touched the center of his forehead, fingers shaking visibly, “...severe—severe pain. Frontal and...damn it....”

Warren’s guard raised. Any pain he deemed “severe” could have killed anyone else on the spot. “Thrive, shut it down.”

“How close are we,” Thrive asked through gritted teeth.

“I can’t actually tell. Everything’s going haywire,” Ataneq said. “Your receptors are being overloaded; you need to stop the transference or you’re going to go into self-preservation mode.”

As Thrive opened his eyes, a single rivulet of blood rolled down from his nose. “Hemorrhaging. Numbness in...in the hands.” He swiped the blood away with a thumb and winced again. “And I’m experiencing a burning sensation on the skin.”

“Fuck,” Warren spat. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this again!”

Ataneq held up a hand in Thoeala’s direction when she crossed over to Thrive. “Don’t touch him yet. I’ve stopped the extractor but he wasn’t able to cut off the transference. He’s got to come down gradually.”

Thrive’s eyelids drooped and he snapped upright in an attempt to stay present and focused. “I...I’m about to...fall into preservation state.”

“Genius.” Warren leaned over the table and gestured around his eyes to get Thrive to make eye contact. “I have been alive for four hundred years and you wanna know why I’m only now starting to get gray hair?”

Thrive carefully rested his head in his arms, tugging the electrodes’ wires to their limit. “I may have an idea....”

“Yeah, he’s out,” Ataneq said after a second of silence.

Thoeala sighed. “So he did that for no reason?”

“No, he succeeded.”

“Excuse me?” Warren glanced at him in alarm. “...You mean he actually managed to transfer a memory into the databank?”

Ataneq nodded. “It’s not very clear, but it’s there. I can just make out vague shapes moving across the screen. We can work with this.”

Warren walked around the table and kneeled beside Thrive, who didn’t appear to be breathing at all. He felt his neck for a pulse and was satisfied to catch the glacial thrum of his system working to mend his brain. “Babe....”

“Wow,” Thoeala exclaimed, peering at the screen of the extractor over Ataneq’s shoulder. “That is incredible! Yeah, I can see an outline of Sinkship!”

“Thrive,” Warren said, raking his fingers through Thrive’s hair. “You did it. We’ll celebrate when you’re awake.” He removed the electrodes and kissed Thrive’s temple, his ear, and the bit of cheek exposed to him. “You cause me enormous stress but you also never cease to make me proud.”

Thoeala and Ataneq each took turns patting Thrive on the back before leaving the room. “Give us a heads up on how he is.”

“Always,” Warren promised before settling down on the floor.

He was there for close to half a hour before Thrive sank back into consciousness, folding himself upright and wiping the rest of the blood from his nose.

“Welcome back,” Warren said.

Thrive turned, clearly not expecting to see him, grogginess still present in his face. “You waited.”

“Well, yeah...you pulled it off. I couldn’t just leave you here.”

Thrive patted himself down for the wireless electrodes that were used to monitor his physical response to the testing as Warren got up to perch himself on the table. “I'm surprised that it actually worked.”

Warren leaned over to capture him in a firm kiss. “I’m not.”

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Thrive kissed him again. “I’ll take this as a sign to always do what you say from now on.”

“Oh,” Warren said with a sly smile. “Nice. I don’t even care that you’re making fun of me. I will take full advantage of this.”

“As I’ve no doubt.” Thrive offered him an only half-sarcastic smirk in return. “I believe you called, rightfully, for a celebration.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“I'm...in a word, spent. Would you like to stay the night at the Fertile Patch? We could set up a camp.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

Thrive kissed him one final time before they parted ways to prepare for the hour-long shuttle trip. Warren apprised the kids of Thrive’s state and while Thrive managed to stay awake on the ride over, as soon as his head hit the lush grass of the uninhabited area of wilderness he was down for the count again.

Warren watched the sunset by himself, using Thrive’s stomach as a pillow, lost in thought about the impact the day’s accomplishments would have on the neighboring galaxies.

He’d played a part in history yet again, it seemed.

[elrondsscribe]

So! Let’s talk about this Jedi Code for a minute.

From what I have absorbed through social osmosis (I’m not terribly familiar with much of the EU material), the original Jedi Code went like this:

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

But by the time of the prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars, the Code appears to have been changed to this:

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

Unfortunately, the way the Jedi Order amended the Code and were practicing it is in many ways similar to my own evangelical/Calvinist upbringing. Let me illustrate, one by one:

There is no emotion, there is peace.

This point I feel has already been well talked over, so I won’t belabor the point too much, but there’s definitely a deep problem when you systematically raise an entire order to fundamentally distrust their internal compass (because that’s how emotions often function).

It’s also the most destructive kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. Raising an entire subculture of people to be suspicious of emotion in the abstract leads to an environment where you can’t examine or interrogate your emotions. And, paradoxical as it may seem on the surface, a culture raised not to examine or interrogate their emotions (and whose primary way of dealing with them is to expel them -- I mean, ‘release them into the Force’) is a culture who will be up to its neck in self-deception, hypocrisy, and unacknowledged constant fear. On the other hand, a culture that is conditioned to be emotionally aware and intelligent is, paradoxically, in much less danger of actually being ruled by their emotions.

Trust me, I know a thing or two about being raised to deal with emotion by pushing it away in a religiously sanctioned manner. It does not lead to whole, healthy persons who are at peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

This point holds more interest for me than it seems to hold for most people, so I wanna park here for a moment. You know what it sounds like to me? A fixation with certainty. Now, evangelicalism does not have a monopoly on certainty, but the form it takes in evangelicalism is what I have experience with. I also think it’s quite useful and instructive in examining where the Jedi went wrong.

In an ideology that prizes certainty, religious advancement is closely correlated with acquiring correct information and refuting incorrect propositions. By the time of the prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars, experimentation in using the Force was forbidden, or at the very least highly discouraged, at a systemic level. You do things one way because it’s the Right Way, and anything outside of the Right Way is automatically suspect and probably Bad. If the Right Way is painful or difficult for you, that’s because there’s something wrong with you, and it means that you need to work harder to conform.

For both the Jedi and evangelicalism as I knew it, actual curiosity and creativity are explicit threats. You don’t ask why we do things one way. You don’t ask what other ways there are of doing things. And you definitely don’t entertain the notion that a voice outside the approval of the order is capable of speaking truth. 

Actually, I’m going to have to do the unthinkable, and give the edge to evangelicalism here. At least evangelicalism doesn't say that if you so much as start down a ‘wrong’ road, it defines you and you can never come back. But so far as the Jedi are concerned, you can’t even touch the Dark Side without becoming irrevocably consumed by evil.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Basically, in my opinion, the hypocrisy-slip is really showing here. The Force is wild -- if it really is ‘that which is between all things,’ then it’s just as present in the storms and high seas and exploding nebulae as it is in stationary rocks. I don’t think it’s possible to interact with the Force at all without inviting some amount of chaos. And that’s not even touching the fact that some amount of chaos is just inherent in being human.

Also, as a piano major, let me let y’all in on a little music theory secret: there is no such thing as music that has no dissonance, no sonic ‘chaos.’ You can’t even have chords, the basic building blocks of harmony, without some dissonance between the notes. Part of what constitutes harmony in music is an agreement between composer and listeners (and performer/s, I guess) as to how much chaos is acceptable before the music becomes meaningless noise.

What I’m saying is, you can’t have harmony, you can’t have music, without inviting chaos.

And, infuriatingly, I think they know this. Both Obi-Wan and Yoda in ANH both tell Luke that when you tap into the Force, it flows through you. So it really looks to me like what they’re really doing is denouncing anything they can’t control and calling it ‘chaos,’ while allowing contact with whatever they can control by calling it ‘harmony.’ That’s really what it’s all about for them, it’s about control.

And oh boy, do I know what it is to live under a religious order that pays lip service to internal harmony, but is actually all about control.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Well, I’ll give the Jedi this much: unlike evangelicalism, they don’t bring up their littluns to believe that someone who doesn’t accept their version of reality is damned to eternal torment.

However, there is a larger problem where you’re refusing to let people deal with death honestly. At some point when dealing with a loss, you’re expected to be able to say: “Yes, I will miss them, but they’ve gone to be with Jesus and they’re in a better place now.” You don’t really have any help in processing the fact that, whether or not the person you lost is in a ‘better place,’ you still had to figure out how to move forward with that loss. Especially not long-term.

And that’s what I’m so painfully reminded of when Yoda tells Anakin in ROTS not to mourn or miss those who have died, to rejoice that they’ve joined the Force. Recall that, at that point in Jedi history, nobody had EVER heard of someone dead remaining personally accessible to the living in any way. ‘Become one with the Force’ holds about as much meaning for people in the Star Wars universe as ‘gone to heaven’ holds for us.

And hey, again with me grudgingly giving an edge to evangelicalism: they allow you to have human ties! At the very least, they let you cry at the funeral. They let you say “I miss them.” But the Jedi, for all their bleating about ‘compassion for everyone,’ are very un-compassionate toward their own chickadees when it comes to letting them process death.

Now why did I choose to say all this?

There is, floating around some corners of the PT/CW Star Wars fandom at least on Tumblr, a certain idea that we should withhold sharp criticism of Jedi practices and beliefs because some aspects of Jedi-ness as shown in the films nominally resemble some points of Buddhism. In the eyes of those who hold such sentiments, criticism of Jedi ideology as practiced during the PT/CW reveals our true colors as white Christian imperialists unable to conceive of any other way of life being functional.

Well, being a degenerate and a daughter of slaves myself with no love of white Christian imperialism, and being a survivor of some very specific forms of religious abuse, let’s just say I know a super dysfunctional religious subculture when I see one. And the prequel-era Jedi definitely fit that bill.

In other words, there’s a little more going on with my critique of the Jedi than the ‘no attachment’ rule. It’s a whole system that’s gone wrong, and I’ve only just gotten started in talking about how.

[lilibetts]

the motion of the ocean

(Part 2/3)

Falling in love with Riverdale, Theme 2

The weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day were some of the busiest of the year, so the shifts tended to pile up and their other boss, Hilda, was kind enough to make sure overtime pay was offered. Consequently, those of them who were still there at closing on Friday decided to celebrate with a small staff party in the employee break room: Betty, Jughead, Veronica, Kevin, Reggie, Toni, Cheryl, and Sweet Pea. Bottles of domestic beer mingled with plastic cups of expensive wine that Veronica had supplied and bags of valentine’s candy littered the table, an acknowledgment of today’s holiday.

“The unrealistic part, boys, is that porn has everyone thinking they have to change positions every...thirty...seconds,” Veronica stared down every male around the table over the top of her aubergine cat-eye frames as she imparted that piece of wisdom. “Constantly moving around ruins the buildup, and yet there’s still so much artless thrusting,” she scolded.

You see: it was a truth universally acknowledged that employees at a sex toy warehouse must at one point discuss their sex lives. 

All around the table, there were murmurs from the other women who agreed with Veronica, Betty included. Reggie and Sweet Pea stared around, wide-eyed, absorbing that revelation. She hid a smile as she took a drink of her wine, noting that Jughead was just nodding pensively from his spot across from her, toying with the toothpick between his teeth. That one specific curly lock of black hair had escaped the confines of his beanie, tempting Betty with the urge to tuck it back in herself. Or just yank off the hat.

The rest of their shift after that awkward run-in at the Reject Boxes had been mercifully quiet, with both of them focusing on their individual tasks. If anything, the silence in the Content room had been too thick, their usual friendly conversation not there to dispel the tension. 

“Apparently lots of boys and men haven't heard of 'it's not the size of the boat, it's the motion of the ocean’,” Jughead quipped, sending her mind into overdrive. Betty imagined herself straddling him in the chair, skirt bunched up by his hands and her underwear clinging to one knee, canting her hips in rhythm with the movement of his while he murmured encouraging words into her ear.

“Exactly!” Veronica chimed. 

From across the table, Cheryl snorted, bursting Betty’s little fantasy bubble. “Obviously...unless you’re Kevin, who’s a self-proclaimed size queen.” Hoots and hollers followed, and Kevin good-naturedly took the ribbing and accepted the air-kiss Cheryl blew him.

“Whoa dude,” interjected Reggie, assessing Kevin with a curious glint in his eyes. “Have you given my boy Colt a try?” He jerked his thumb over at two of the massive dildos in their plastic encasing, innocuously on top of the communal fridge. All eyes widened as they turned back to Kevin, who scoffed.

“No thanks, I’ve watched the amateur videos, and those were traumatizing enough for me. And besides, why are we picking on me when we should be picking on Betty?”

Betty flushed as seven heads swiveled over to her. Kevin had thrown her under the bus and Veronica wasted no time pouncing. “Yes, because there is a mystery afoot in this employee break room, and it’s why Betty Cooper gave up on The Year of Horny Betty, in February, after two measly dates.”

Sweet Pea, who had been balancing on the back legs of his chair, winked at her. “The Year of Horny Betty? I could stand to hear more about tha—whoa, fuck!” Someone (presumably Jughead) kicked at his chair from under the table, forcing him to bring it down with a loud thud. 

Betty, however, was too busy glaring daggers at Veronica for having the temerity to bring up The Year of Horny Betty while Jughead was present. Chancing a glance over at him, she was surprised by the heat in his stare. For a moment, it was almost like they were the only people in the room. 

“Spill!” Reggie slapped the table, starting a chant with Toni and Kevin, the traitor. “Spill, spill!”

“Fine,” she told them, “if you must know, those two dates were just too…” she shuddered, making a face. “The first guy was a snob who wouldn’t shut up about all the expensive things he owned, the prestige clubs he had membership in, and I swear sometimes when he looked at me he was fantasizing about wearing my skin or something. The second guy was boring as hell and kissed like a wet vacuum.” 

That got her a series of sympathetic grimaces.

“FYI, before this, she hadn’t been on any dates nor had any sex since she broke up with her high school sweetheart Ethan before graduation,” Veronica explained. To Betty, she said cajolingly, “B, don’t you miss partner-assisted orgasms?”

“I wish I could, but Ethan never even made me come,” she murmured before knocking back the rest of the wine in her cup as a chaser.

“WHAT?” Veronica, Kevin, Cheryl, and Sweet Pea shouted.

“That’s just wrong.” Reggie shook his head.

"Not even during oral?" Toni asked. At Betty's meaningful stare, she muttered, "Shit, I make sure women come when I go down on them, it's like the number one rule." Cheryl turned to give the pink-haired woman an assessing look.

“At all?” Veronica asked, brows furrowed as she tried to understand that concept.

Betty shrugged. “Me rubbing my clit while doing all the work on top of him doesn’t count.”

It felt good to finally admit it out loud; it felt even better when her confession led to a varied and in-depth discussion about the struggle for honesty with sexual partners. All the while, she sat there, feeling warm all over, either from the wine or Jughead’s attention, interjecting with her opinion from time to time and generally participating in a debate about sex in a way she hadn’t thought she could.

Come six o’clock, when the alcohol wound down and several of her coworkers begged off, citing a need to go grab dinner, Betty felt light. She donned her coat and shouldered her tote, heavy with the naughty goodies she’d helped herself to, and waved the others goodbye as she started the trek to her college.

“Betty.”

Spinning around, she saw Jughead hurrying to catch up to her. “Hey, Jug.”

“Mind if I walk with you the rest of the way?” She knew he was at Jonathan Edwards, which was slightly closer than Grace Hopper, her residential college.

“Sure.”

They walked in silence at first, but Betty could tell Jughead was on the verge of saying something. She decided to be patient.

“So, I’m a virgin” probably wasn’t the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth, but she was shocked nonetheless. 

“Okay,” she said hesitatingly. 

“I just want to be upfront,” Jughead told her, looking nervous but determined. “Our conversation at the afterparty got me thinking and...I have a proposition for you, Betty Cooper.” At her intrigued eyebrow raise, he continued, “The last thing I want is to come off as a creeper, so feel free to say no and I’ll forget all about this, no questions asked and no umbrage taken.”

“Ominous, but go on.”

“Since sex, good sex, can benefit from continual communication, I was thinking I could help you resurrect your New Year’s Resolution.”

“The Year of Horny Betty, you mean,” she said dryly.

Jughead grinned mischievously. “Well, you came up with a very clever plan title there, it deserves to be seen all the way through to completion.”  She didn’t need to ask to know he meant orgasms. “And I’m aware that porn has been the gateway Sex Ed for many, but I’ve taken advantage of some of the many instructional videos the store has which I theorize would be more useful in application.”

He made it sound like Betty would be testing out a hypothesis. Her mind flashed back to the dvd he’d chosen out of the Friday Reject Boxes.

“So…” she dragged out the vowel, “I’d be doing it for the science?” she teased.

“It’s a noble pursuit, just ask Masters and Johnson,” argued Jughead.

Betty really wanted to have sex with Jughead, that wasn’t in question. Lots of sex. A big part of her was jumping at the opportunity he was offering her.

“And what do you get out of it? You want me to...god, I can’t even say it...pop your cherry?” When it came to Ethan, she had been a virgin the first time they had sex, but her ex wasn’t. 

“Cash in my v-card?”  he grinned. “I rather like ‘making my sexual debut’, though.”

“Virginity is a social construct anyways, but...me? Are you sure?”

Jughead stopped right there in the middle of the sidewalk and earnestly told her face-to-face, “You asked me what I’d get out of it. The answer is you, Betty. Satisfying you.”

That was quite possibly the most romantic and erotic thing anyone had ever said to her.

“Okay,” she said, a little breathlessly. “So...your room or mine?”

Jughead had the grace to look a little abashed. “I was hoping we could at least eat dinner first.”

[the-blair-witch-coven]

Am I Making To Big A Deal?

This hasn’t happened yet but the thought of it happening is upsetting & i just need to get this out. My bday is later this week & as much to my dismay, my mom wants to celebrate it. A few family members that live close to us is supposed to come over for a few hours. My mom also decided to just celebrate my bday & Easter on the same day. Earlier this week my uncle who is supposed to be coming over to celebrate asked for our help with touching up his hair since he has an event coming up. He has a blonde streak in his hair, he says its silver but its blonde. I have silver hair. I said I’d help & even let him use some of the products that I have since what he’s been using has been washing out so quickly. Now I’m going to point this out because I feel it’s important info, he’s a licensed stylist. It may not seem important, but just wait. He didn’t express when he wanted this to happen. Well after talking to my mom it sounds like he is planning on doing in on Saturday, my birthday, when we are supposed to be celebrating. Am I the only on that thinks that’s rude? It’s like hey yeah happy birthday now do this favor for me. It just seems selfish & self-absorbed to me. I mean I’m being kind enough to help him out, let him use products that I paid for & he doesn’t have to spend a penny. From what I understand Saturday is the only day he has off & will be working all other days leading up to this event. That really doesn’t sound like my problem. That’s sounds horrible of me but he can get recommendations from me or other people & has the license to go get those products get someone to help him after work one day, like one of the other stylists he works with or do it himself like he has been.  It’s my birthday & I don’t want to spend it doing his hair, not to mention by the time he plans on coming over my mom & myself will be cooking dinner. There will be no time for us to do his hair. My mom said she would do it but if he’s so set on doing it on my birthday then I think he should being his own hair dye. I bought those products for me & I don’t wanna share with someone who in my opinion thinks it’s all about them.

I’ve only had a discussion with my mom but my mom talked to my Abuelita (grandmother) about it & it seems like my Abeulita is on my side. I don’t know it this is the case, if this is what he’s planning. Knowing my uncle, it wouldn’t surprise me if he just expected us to do it when it was most convenient for him even if its inconvenient for anyone else, but it’s just really fucking upsetting & I don’t know if I’m making to big of a deal out of this. I just really needed to vent.

[pitviperofdoom]

Fundraiser Commission #8

Thank you for donating $20!

Prompt: “For the commission, I would like PitViperOfDoom to write a followup to their one shot Helping Hands. After Bakugo is expelled some members of Class 1-A (probably the Bakusquad) decide to talk to the boy whose abuse led to his expulsion. Only, it doesn't turn out to be just them helping him. He seems to have incredible insights into how they can improve how they use their quirks.”

This one gave me some trouble, but I’m happy with how it came out!

---

Lunch Rush’s katsudon is the only katsudon that Izuku can honestly, though not without some guilt, describe as better than Mom’s. Of course, unlike Lunch Rush, Mom’s quirk doesn’t help her cook beyond bringing the ingredients within reach. In Izuku’s wholly unbiased opinion, that concession puts his mother’s cooking back up on top.

Fortune smiles on him when the school cook puts out a fresh lunch tray out just in time for him to claim it. It makes up for how his day has been going so far. No one’s been mean, of course, but the rumors about yesterday have already started spreading, and there’s only so much of his classmates’ whispering that he can stand before he starts screaming from the stress.

Izuku turns away, debating whether to sit with his classmates or hide in the classroom to eat, only to find himself flanked on both sides by hero students.

Very familiar hero students, at that.

“Come sit with us, Midoriya!” Ashido Mina chirps near his ear.

“Unless you got somewhere else to be.” Kirishima is on his other side, holding a tray loaded with pretty much every meat available in the cafeteria. “It’s cool if you’ve got somewhere else to be, but we’d love for you to join us.”

Izuku’s head swivels back and forth, gaping at both of them in turn. “Um…” On instinct he shoots a glance at the table where a lot of his 1-C classmates usually sit. Shinsou and Ichioka stare back at him incredulously. Mochizuku grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure… lead the way.”

Ashido whoops and takes the lead, while Kirishima and a boy whose name Izuku doesn’t know hang back to walk with him.

“Hi, Midoriya!” the unknown boy says. “I just realized neither of them said that yet.”

“Hi,” Izuku says nervously. “Um, sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” His memory supplies him with the image of the boy slapping a length of tape over Kacchan’s mouth.

“I’m Sero Hanta!” The three of them reach the table where Ashido is sitting, along with two other girls and a boy with bright yellow hair. They introduce themselves as Uraraka, Asui (“Call me Tsuyu-chan!”), and Kaminari, and Izuku mumbles something incoherent as he slides into the seat by Kirishima. They’re all friendly enough, but out of all of them, Kirishima makes him the least nervous.

For a moment, Izuku sits frozen and speechless among students he doesn’t know. What is he supposed to say? The last time any of them saw him, he was crying after getting beaten up in front of them; what do they expect out of him?

“Oh!” he blurts out, then winces when Kaminari drops his chopsticks. “Thank you.”

In an instant, everyone is staring at him. He’s made a terrible mistake.

“Sheesh, Midoriya, you scared me there,” Kaminari laughed.

“Sorry,” Izuku says sheepishly. “But I mean it. Thank you, for yesterday. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did!” Ashido says, shocked.

“You’re in hero school, buddy,” Sero adds. “If there was ever a place where we ‘have’ to do that kind of stuff, it’s here.”

Izuku blushes. “Not everybody would have.”

“Yeah, well, not everybody is in UA’s hero course,” Kirishima points out.

“Including Bakugou,” Asui says dryly. Uraraka snorts beside her, then sobers.

“I probably shouldn’t laugh,” she says, wrinkling her nose to keep from doing so. “But I mean… Aizawa-sensei told us on the first day that he’d have us kicked out if he didn’t think we could make the cut. He literally told us that, and booted Mineta on day one, and Bakugou still pulled that. I mean, what did he think was going to happen? He’s lucky he just got transferred to Gen Ed!”

In spite of himself, Izuku gives a snort of his own. “Kacchan’s used to the rules not applying to him,” he mutters.

Kaminari barks out a laugh. “Sorry, I just… Kacchan? Seriously? How’s a guy like that end up with a cutesy nickname like Kacchan?”

Izuku shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. It’s a weird feeling, seeing people laugh at Kacchan instead of him. “Our moms were in the same pregnant yoga class. Technically our first playdates happened before we were born. We were really close when we were four. I don’t remember us not being friends.” He hesitates, poking at the egg in his katsudon. “Then his quirk came in, and mine didn’t, and… everything was different after that.”

Worried that he’s brought down the mood, he glances around at the others to gauge their reactions. Kaminari’s face is scrunched up like he smells something bad. Uraraka and Sero look indignant, Asui looks grave, and Kirishima looks like he’s about to cry.

“Sounds like a lousy friend,” Ashido says blithely.

“Ashido!” Sero elbows her, which, considering his elbows, must pack a punch.

“What? He is!”

“No, you’re right,” Izuku says. It’s taken a while to admit it, but he’s had some help with it. Kacchan was a bad friend. He acted the way he did because he chose to, not because Izuku deserved it. “He’s always been… competitive. Even when we were in daycare together, he was obsessed with being better than everyone. Every time I talked about the things I liked or the things I was good at, he’d remind me that he was better at them than I was.”

“That’s gotta be exhausting,” Kirishima says.

Izuku shrugs. “He was my first friend. I didn’t know being friends wasn’t supposed to be like that. I know better now, of course!” he adds quickly. “But back then, I thought it was normal.”

“What kind of stuff do you like to do?” Uraraka asks. “I mean, you already know we’re all on the hero track, but what about you?”

Izuku fidgets, suddenly nervous. “Oh! Um… well, I still really like heroics. Learning about… about heroes, and their statistics and stuff.”

“Like… business course stuff?” Kaminari asks.

“No, not really.” Izuku shakes his head. “Not the, um, marketing. I’m no good at that. I mean more like… the mechanics of their quirks and equipment, and their battle strategies and combat techniques. That kind of thing. See—” He falters for a moment. “When I was little, I wanted to be a hero. And even after I found out I was quirkless, I still looked for ways that I could become one. So… I watched them, and studied how they work. I still do. I know it probably sounds strange, but…”

“Lots of people make hero analysis a career,” Asui says, tapping her lips. “I’ve heard the Public Safety Commission have people for that.”

“Hey, yeah,” Sero says. “Even if you can’t be a hero, you can still work in heroics.”

“Yeah, I know…” Izuku says. It’s a good consolation prize. He thinks he could even be happy doing it.

“Nah,” Kirishima says.

Izuku turns to him, startled. “What?”

“Nah,” Kirishima repeats. “I think you could still do it. Become a hero.”

Izuku gapes at him.

“Dude, you grew up with an ultra-competitive jerk who tried to make you feel bad about yourself, you found out you didn’t have a quirk, and you still didn’t give up! You kept looking for ways to make it happen! You got that… that determination, y’know? That manly spirit. I think as long as you have that, quirks don’t matter. You could totally be a hero.”

For a moment, Izuku can only stare. “Well…” he stammers out when he finds his voice again. “You’ll be the first kid my age who thinks that.”

Ashido’s hand shoots up. “Second!”

“Third!” Uraraka and Kaminari say in unison.

“It only makes sense,” Asui says serenely, smiling at Izuku’s shocked face. “Just look at Aizawa-sensei. His quirk levels the playing field, but other than that, he fights without any special power.”

Izuku blushes fiercely under all the encouragement. “There’s never been a quirkless hero before,” he mumbles. “It’s unheard of.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible!” Ashido says. “It just means nobody’s done it yet.”

It’s a wonderful moment, which Izuku swiftly ruins by bursting into tears.

---

“Well, Midoriya,” Shinsou says dryly, clapping him on the shoulder so hard it almost hurts. “Don’t forget about us now that you’re famous enough to hang with the hero kids.”

“It’s not like that!

Mochizuku slaps his other shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable!” she chirps cheerfully. “That open spot in Class 1-A is mine.”

“There are two,” Izuku points out.

“And three of us,” she says cheerily. “Watch your backs, boys!”

---

Ashido Mina

Quirk: Acid. Allows user to secrete corrosive liquid through her skin. Acid can be generated in high quantities from any area of skin. Can be manipulated by user?

Kirishima Eijirou

Quirk: Hardening. Allows user to harden any part of his body. Protects from physical threats by absorbing blunt force and preventing cutting damage.

Asui Tsuyu

Quirk: Frog form. Gives user features and abilities of a frog, including leg strength, wall climbing, extending tongue (more? Ask her?)

“Whatcha doin’?” Kaminari asks, almost dropping his tray on Izuku’s lunch table. With a yelp, Izuku shuts his notebook and shoves it in his bag with practiced speed.

“Nothing! Just notes for class!”

“Okay, man, chill,” Kaminari says. Around them, the others are taking seats as well. “You do you. Good for you for getting in on brains and stuff.”

“Man, seriously!” Ashido agrees. “I’m no good at that stuff. I’ve had on-off tutoring since I started middle school. People who can just sit down and study and get A’s on their own are incredible.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes!” Kirishima points out.

“Oh yeah, I know!” Ashido grins and fist-pumps. “Besides, I got in with my awesome skills! I can figure out everything else as I go!”

Izuku tries not to stare as she swings between complimenting him and complimenting herself. Ashido Mina is one of the most incredible people that he has ever met. It’s not just her wild coloring, either; nonstandard skin and hair colors are fairly common in the world of quirks. Even Izuku’s colors would have been improbable at best, if not impossible before quirks came into being.

But no, what stands out in Midoriya’s eyes is how smoothly Ashido’s effortless confidence meshes with her kindness. She thinks highly of herself, for good reason. She’s pretty, she’s athletic, and she has a fantastic quirk and a magnetic personality. But unlike the other good-looking, athletic, charismatic people with fantastic quirks that Izuku has met before, she doesn’t seem to feel the need to prove it to anyone. She just is, and that’s enough for her.

Bashfully, Izuku tells her as much, stumbling over his words as he struggles to make himself understood without offending her by accident. She listens, frowning thoughtfully as he manages to articulate his thoughts.

“That’s a weird thing to think about,” she remarks when he finishes babbling.

“Sorry,” Izuku mumbles.

“No no, I don’t mean it like that!” Ashido assures him. “It’s just… if somebody’s really confident but feels like they have to prove how good they are all the time… then they can’t really be that confident, can they?”

Izuku stares, openmouthed, before his jaw slowly shuts again. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Maybe that was Bakugou’s problem,” Kaminari muses. “You know? ‘Cause I’ve never met anybody as desperate as he was to prove how great they were.”

“Kacchan’s the most confident person I know,” Izuku points out. “That was his whole problem. Everybody praised his quirk, and how strong and smart he is, and that’s…” That’s why he got away with everything.

“Yeah, but he has a garbage personality,” Kaminari says bluntly. Ashido barks out a laugh, Uraraka and Sero snicker, and Kirishima purses his lips like he’s trying not to follow suit. “What? He does! Maybe that’s why he’s so obsessed with being better than everybody, so he can make up for the fact that nobody’s gonna like him otherwise.”

Izuku shoves in a mouthful of rice so he won’t have to answer, reddening when he catches Asui’s attention.

Rather than calling him on it, she turns to Ashido. “Ashido-chan, you pulled some cool moves in class yesterday. You’re really good at aiming your acid.”

“Thanks! I work super hard on that!”

“How do you train with your quirk without destroying stuff?” Sero asks, latching on to the new topic.

“My quirk’s not that bad,” Ashido says, huffing a little. “I mean, it used to be, but that was just when I was a little kid. You know, before quirk counseling.”

Izuku listens carefully. He’s always been interested in quirk counseling; it was something he was left out of, obviously, and there was only so much that he could observe from afar before his teacher told him to go back to his word searches.

“It till melts through concrete,” Asui points out. “How do you practice with it?”

“I can change how strong the acid is,” Ashido explains. “If I’m really pulling punches I can get it to the same level as like, lemon juice. So it’d suck to get it in your eyes or in a paper cut, but I’m not gonna melt any walls. It’s good for target practice! Which is still really hard, because it’s liquid.”

“Can you change anything else about your acid?” Izuku asks, now leaning forward with interest.

“Yep! I can change the, uh, what’s the word.” Ashido gestures vaguely. “I can make it thicker instead of just liquid.”

“You can control the viscosity?”

“That’s the one!” Ashido points to him. “My favorite trick is to make it super weak and, uh, viscous, so I can slide around on it! I asked for a good boot design that would help me keep control, too.”

“Could you make it solid?” Izuku asks. “Like gelatin? That might make precision easier, with less of a risk of sending out droplets when you throw it.”

Ashido’s dark eyes widen. Her lips part in surprise, before a wide, delighted grin spreads over her face. “Jelly bombs,” she whispers. “Midoriya, you’re a genius!”

Izuku flushes deeply. For the first time, he thinks that maybe his new… friends? Are they friends? They’re certainly treating him like one, he thinks.

Well. Maybe, for once…

“Hey, uh, guys?” he says, voice cracking with leftover nervousness. Before he can chicken out, he reaches down to retrieve his notebook. “Want to see something I’ve been working on?”

It’s the most fun he’s ever had in the lunchroom before.

[takemedancingmaine]

Where I Belong

The weather had finally shifted to spring.

Although, if we’re honest, there’s not a real spring in Chicago. Only winter and then false hope then more winter and then, somehow overnight, summer. 

It was sticky and the air was heavy. You could feel it on your skin the moment you stepped outside. Paired with some of the bluest skies and the clear water of Lake Michigan, one could understand the allure of Chicago, finally making sense of why people brave the winters and the grey skies. Every year around this time, I fell in love with the city all over again, fell in love with the vibe of spring baseball games and a beer on my front porch with a good book in my lap. I fell in love with beach days and rooftop day parties and going to the zoo for a walk around just because. 

The trees along Lakeshore were green and full when I ran past them in the mornings, the birds were singing loud over the traffic, and kids were playing with chalk on the sidewalk in front of their houses.

It wasn't like I needed a reminder of all the reasons I loved Chicago, because I just did, but the month of May brought the reminders out for me anyway. I was enamored by the juxtaposition of the busy city behind me and the vast, empty expanse of blue water in front, kicking at the wall under my heels as I dangled my legs over the edge.

I was sitting on a concrete barrier on the edge of the Lake that separated two beaches in Bryn Mawr and writing in my journal. 

It was something I was doing more and more since starting therapy all those months ago. I was not a writer by any means, nor was I eloquent, but I never felt pressure to write well or to even make sense of my thoughts as they left my mind and etched themselves into words on the pages. I simply felt a pull to get the thoughts down so that they weren't festering inside of me. It was a relief I felt that was similar to running. It was a solitary activity where I was alone with myself and able to attempt to understand myself better.

Three and a half months since my secret came to light, since I faced it out in the open and gave it a name and came to terms with the fact that I had to accept it and push forward in a healthy way. Last week, Brian had ‘graduated’ us all from his self-defense class and was gearing up to start anew with another fresh batch of students.

He was excited to start all over again in the fall, and I was excited to have not only completed his class but to have gained more than just knowledge but two friendships as a result of pushing myself through it. Tala and Brian were instrumental in my healing process, and I couldn't be happier with them being a part of my life. They also folded in seamlessly with the rest of the group. Between Tala’s wit and Brian’s charisma, they were always a welcome addition whenever they could join us in our activities.  

There was just one thing about those activities that I had yet to rectify.

I also knew it had to be me, that I had to make the move to solve it. It took me a while to come to terms with this, longer than it had taken me to come to terms with everything else. It was countless hours talking to Louis and Cleo. I even spent a lot of time with Liam and asked his opinions. His advice had been incredibly simple: do what you feel like you’re ready to do, and even if you don’t feel ready, take that step anyway: test yourself.

Ordinarily, I would’ve scoffed at his idea, but Tala said something similar when I went to her with the issue as well. She was the one who, despite what her brother had told her, approved of my severing ties with Niall in the first place. She was the one who said it was better for me. Recently though, she was starting to push me more and more. The conversation we’d had last weekend had centered around the fact that I would probably never feel ready to make this move, but going off of everything else I’d done and all the progress I’d made, I was ready.

I still wasn’t sure, but that was the thing. Emotions are like water. They're impossible to compress. So once the thought was there, I couldn't push it back down. I had to follow through.

I think it was like Tala had said, that I might never be sure. I thought about how rarely sure we are in life and it made me realize just how much we as humans gamble and hope for the best, blowing on the dice for luck before we throw them down. So what if I still wasn't sure? I couldn't remember a time when I was sure. Life was about putting all the pieces together and hoping they made a puzzle, but if not it was okay, there was always a new path, a new puzzle to piece together waiting around each bend.

My journal entry was reflecting this sentiment as I scribbled in it in all caps. I noticed that when I wrote now, my penmanship was all capitals, blockish and somehow a little bit flowy. It was how I’d written notes and essays when I was in high school but had steered away from when I was trying to take notes at a much quicker pace in college. I had told Dr. Winters a few weeks ago that maybe it was because it was more deliberate, slower and more methodical to write in all capital letters. I wasn’t sure yet why or if it meant anything specific–it could always be as simple as I like the aesthetic more–but it was something to think about anyway.

“Hey,” a voice called me from my reverie. I’d been absorbed in writing, absorbed in listening to the sound of the water below me, entranced by the sunshine beating down on me. I slipped a page marker into the journal and closed it, setting it and the pen beside me before looking up. 

It was the hat on his head that made me smile. 

“Hi,” I said, patting the ground beside me, signaling for him to sit.

He did. He maneuvered himself down and leaned back on his hands, his head falling back as he looked up at the sky, his eyes closed.

I took that moment to look him over. He was tan, his skin practically glowing in the sunshine, and his facial hair was fuller. It suited him. I couldn’t tell what his hair was doing, but as he took a deep breath and lowered his head back down and opened his eyes, I noted that the easiness he’d always carried about him was still present. I’d worried that I might’ve stripped that from him, but from the looks of it, I hadn’t.

He turned his head toward me and I was struck by the blue of his eyes. Even with the blue water below me, the blue sky above me, and the blue hat situated on top of his head, his eyes were still the most vibrant, the most riveting of all the options. There was a depth to them that even the most renowned artists would struggle to capture. I could see them clearly even in the shade of his ball cap.

For months I’d thought that perhaps seeing those eyes again would cripple me, tear me down brick-by-brick until I was an amorphous blob on the ground, unable to function back at square one. Yet here I was, staring into those eyes and holding my own, maintaining myself. I had thought that I’d see something in those eyes that might indicate pain or regret. Instead, I saw curiosity and respect. I’d spent a few months dealing with both of those qualities in other people’s gazes to know what they were, and seeing them there, on him, felt natural. As if this was how it was supposed to be.

“You look tan,” I said. 

He nodded and looked out ahead of us toward the horizon. “Yeah, I um. I went on that trip to South Africa a few weeks ago with Greg. It was a place our dad had always wanted to go, so we figured we’d get down there and see what he’d been going on and on about for so long.” 

“How was it?”

“It was unbelievable,” he said. When he said that, I saw that smile, his smile, slip onto his face and watched as his features lit up. I could feel my own features shift into a smile as a response to his, the reaction involuntary, but I was unable to do anything but react to his contagious good vibe. “We did a great white shark thing, watched them breach from a boat and even went down in a tank to watch them from below. It was the scariest, coolest thing I’ve ever done by far. I don't know if I'll ever be able to top it, but I would like to try.” 

He was happy. 

I was struck by that when he looked at me full on again. He was happy and so was I.

We fell into silence. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. There was so much to be said between us so much that needed to be discussed and sorted through, but somehow we both understood that we were under no pressure and that added a level of comfort to the situation.

He spoke first.

“You look lighter… somehow. Calmer,” he said, glancing at me, appraising, and then shifted his gaze back out to the lake.

“I feel lighter,” I said after a moment. Watching him, and then following his gaze to the horizon. He didn't interrupt me when I paused to gather my thoughts, and I appreciated his patience, and appreciated that even after all these months he still believed I deserved the time to get it right. “Therapy has helped quite a bit. As has telling everyone.”

“Louis mentioned to me that you told everyone, including your family,” he said. I watched him from the corner of my eye. “I was really proud of you for that. It must've taken a lot of strength.”

I let out a breathless chuckle. “The family’s response was something, to be sure. And it's funny, but I knew how our friends would react. I just didn't let myself believe that they would be so supportive, that it wouldn't make them look at me in pity. I knew that they wouldn't, but taking that leap of faith is still scary sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, the timber of his voice rattling my bones. “They're some pretty remarkable people, our friends.”

“If we're calling lunacy ‘remarkable’ nowadays, then sure.” He laughed out loud at my words and I felt it in my toes, his spirit floating lightly. His energy lifted me through this process. If it was anytime else, I couldn't have been able to do this, to tell them.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” I said, my voice quiet suddenly. “I know I didn't exactly go about, well, anything the right way at first. But I'm trying now and I wanted you to know that I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apol-”

“I do,” I interrupted him. He cut his gaze to me quickly, the confusion clear within it. “I do,” I repeated with a nod. “I hurt you. I know I hurt you. Regardless of why or the outcome, I still did that. And for that, I'm sorry.”

“I accept,” he said back quietly, his eyes still watching me.

I stayed silent for a long while, looking out over the water, but I knew he was watching me, and could feel his eyes on me. It must've been a handful of minutes later before I spoke again.

“I don't have my nightmare anymore.” As much as I wanted to keep looking at the water I desperately wanted to see his face when he processed that news. So, I turned and watched.

“You what?” His mouth was wide, his eyes searching my face and moving at a quick pace, his voice was nothing but a whisper of words on an exhale of breath leaving him in a gust.

“Since early March,” I said, nodding. “Two and a half months ago.”

“That's great, Ruby,” he said softly and looked away again. I watched as he took his Cubs hat off and ran a hand through his hair before settling his hat back down. His hair was wavy and long on top, but shorter onthe sides. It was my favorite style on him.

“It's been a relief,” I admitted. He nodded at my words.

“I'm sure Moggy appreciates not being woken up in the middle of the night, too,” he said, a smile pulling on his features, knowing that the worst was behind us.

“Oh she's never been happier,” I smiled back. “I was putting a real damper on her beauty rest.” We giggled quietly and then fell into another bout of comfortable silence, the minutes just passing by as we took in being beside each other again. A couple of kids passed by on skateboards behind us and a man blaring reggae music from a speaker walked by at a leisurely pace, the sound fading as he made it to the beach to our left.

“I was thinking,” I started after it had been silent for a while, “that it's probably time our friends stopped making two sets of plans.”

“Yeah?” He asked, pulling his gaze down to me and quirking his eyebrows.

“This wasn't nearly as hard as I built it up in my head to be,” I said, letting him know I'd been nervous about seeing him. 

He let out a slow breath and nodded, another smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah, it really hasn't been.” I let him think for a moment, able to see the thoughts whirring behind his eyes. “I think that's fair.”

“You think we can pull it off, being friends?”

“Well,” he drew in a breath and let it out slowly, “we've done being a couple, and we’ve done being nothing to each other, so I think that maybe friends can be a happy medium for us.”

I hoped so.

Sitting there I realized that although I had patched myself up and that I was happy, content with my life and who I was, I had still missed Niall.

I'd missed his contagious laugh and his easygoing energy. I'd missed his quirky bookish quotes that would come out when he was trying to be introspective and I'd missed watching him interact with Louis and the rest of our friends. 

I realized just how easily I could be his friend. I thought about how he would fit in with Tala and Brian and how he'd compliment each of them as well. I thought about our group game nights having good music again because my choices wouldn't be voted down and the Guinness that would be stocked in all of our fridges for just-in-case purposes.

If anything were to happen between us in the future–and I recognized that hypothetical as a long shot because of the trust that would have to be built back up–that was for the future. For right now, I was happy just having him around again.

It was enough for me. It was calm and I felt that ease settling into my belly as I thought about that. I wasn't wary of what was to come or nervous of screwing anything up. It was an easy friendship and there were expectations that went along with being a friend, but they didn't feel impossible to meet or to breathe under.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me again from my reverie with that single word.

I looked over at him.

“This feels good.”

“It does,” I acknowledged. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for reaching out,” he said.

I took a deep breath and looking out at the lake in front of me, seeing it for what was far from the first time, I felt myself sink into happiness, all of my nervous energy from before leaving me like the waves pulling away from the barrier and all that was coming in was a warmth and a relief that spread through me. 

Looking right, I could see the green grass and trees and the golden beach past them, could see skyscrapers reaching up into the blue beyond above and could see the sun as it travelled its path, steady and constant and not concerning itself with anything but its own power and strength.

The sun knew that it would be cloudy some days, but that never dimmed its shine, it was bright regardless of what was happening around it. I took a deep breath and closing my eyes against the light hoped that I could be like that too, bright and unwavering and strong in the face of life. I finally felt like I was in a place where that wasn't an unreasonable hope.

[oh1captain9my4captain2]

Chasing Time

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Implied smut, major awkwardness from both characters

Words: 1,400

Summary: With time constantly ticking by, the reader decides it’s finally time to start a family. With or without a man. So she recruits one of the Avengers for assistance. But how exactly will that pan out for them? (Part 1 of my series - Chasing Time)

You were pacing back and forth around your room in Avengers Tower. You’d been throwing an idea around in your head for a while, but you’d been too scared to actually go through with it. Mainly because the outcome would change your entire life forever. However this was something that you’d always wanted, so you muster up what little courage you have and take off down the hall.

For a brief moment you hesitate outside Captain Roger’s door, and second guess your entire plan as your hand is raised against the thick wood. You’re centimeters from it; wondering whether you should knock or turn back and forget this entire thing ever happened. As your heart drops to your stomach in defeat you notice the door begin to open.

Steve is standing in shock as your fist is just below his face. You lower your hand nervously, and try to find the words to make this entire situation a little less awkward.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?” There it was, your courage was building yet again. That or his shocked look scared the words out of you. Probably the latter.

With a quick nod he removes himself from the doorway and lets you in, closing it behind you.

“How long you been out there?” The sound of his voice told you that he found it a little creepy, and it made you want to tuck tail and run.

“Not long, but I wanted to ask you a pretty serious question.” You fumbled, playing with your thumbs as you looked around the room; anywhere but him. “We’re friends, right?”

He breathed a heavy sigh, before shooting you a confused glance. “Wow, I guess that is a pretty serious question,” it was obvious that he tried to make a joke. However, his stern demeanor left it mostly unnoticed until he continued. “Of course we’re friends, y/n.”

“Then, as a friend, I want to ask you something in confidence. I’m not asking Captain America, I’m asking Steve.” You clarified, making sure he understood. But then your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself forcing the question from your mouth. “Would you consider the idea of having a child with me?” That was it. The damage had been done, and the question hung in the air for a moment too long before you began to stammer and try to find an explanation to relieve the dumbfounded expression from his face. “I just mean that I’m getting older, and I’ve always wanted kids. Biologically you would be the father, but I would take the responsibility. No one would ever know.”

Immediately the look on his face showed that he was relieved; for a second he thought you were asking to spend the rest of your lives together. With all of this new information, though, he let the idea sink in for a second before he finally spoke. “Why me?”

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about that question. It was what brought you here to begin with. “Well, Tony is way too opinionated and I can’t stand how cocky and arrogant he is all the time. Banner can’t have kids, and I don’t think I could take a six hundred pound child smashing its way through me.” You giggled, going over the rest of them on your fingers. “Thor and I have nothing in common; he’s very self absorbed and I wouldn’t want my child to be that way. Then there’s Clint, but he’s already got a family. Truthfully, you’re the nicest and most level headed out of everyone. I’d be stupid not to pick you. After all, you may not be a perfect soldier, but you’ll always be a good man.” The smile on your lips found it’s way to your eyes as you felt them begin to twinkle at how happy he always made you. Even if he would say no, you’d never be able to hold it against him because it was ultimately a very big decision for the both of you.

“If you’re sure this is what you want then I’ll do it, but I think you’re right. It’s best if no one else knows about this. After all, I’m still your Captain, and I don’t want anyone thinking that I’m picking favorites.” It wasn’t a surprise to you how quickly he’d taken control and given you orders. You would’ve been shocked if he hadn’t considering how authoritative he was.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you laughed, saluting him proudly as a blush formed against your cheeks. He shot you a look, telling you that he was completely serious. “Give me a break, I just asked Captain America to be my sperm donor and he agreed.” The giggle that escaped your lips made Steve roll his eyes as he shook his head and smirked. “The real question is, how soon do we start?” You asked, feeling all the confidence drain from your body once again.

“I guess that’s up to you,” he fumbled, leaving the ball in your court.

“I’m free right now?” You offered, looking around the room again.

Steve stammered, rubbing the back of his neck before he finally spoke. “Okay, I guess that works.”

The closer you got to him the more the tension grew, and you realized just how awkward this was going to be if the two of you didn’t build your courage and take the shot. With how inexperienced he was he would probably take hours before ever reaching third base.

So, you were the one who leaned in first, pressing your lips to his as you felt the way they melted against yours. They were smooth, and soft, much to your surprise. With a hint of courage Steve raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he deepened the kiss. He tasted like peppermint from his toothpaste, and he smelt like honeysuckles in the summer.

He pushed you back towards the bed as he helped you down, crawling on top and fumbling over your clothes. To say the two of you were inexperienced was an understatement which is why you didn’t mind taking things slow.

By the time you were finished, you didn’t want to leave his side. This may have been a bad idea after all. You knew it would be no use getting attached to him when you’d asked for no feelings, but deep down you’d always had a soft spot in your heart for the handsome soldier that you’d grown to love.

You let out a heavy sigh as you sat up, and grabbed your clothes from the bottom of his bed. “Well, this was fun, thanks for the experience, and I’ll be sure to leave a tip.” You joked, playfully, as you slipped your clothes back on in front of him.

“That bad, huh?” Steve asked, nervously, as he bit his lip, and brushed his fingers through his hair.

“Are you kidding me? I hope it takes months for me to get pregnant just so we can do it again.” You laughed, awkwardly. “I just didn’t think you’d want me to stick around in case anyone found out?”

He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling as his blue eyes danced with a happiness that you’d rarely seen in them. “You’re probably right. It’s almost midnight, but they’re probably still up working on their assignments. I’ve got them looking into something big.”

“Look at you taking charge! Making them do all the hard work while you’re in here having free time.” You joked, calling him out.

“Free time? I thought I was getting a tip?” Steve said sarcastically, as he stood up and got dressed.

“And on that note! I’m gonna go back to my room and watch Netflix!” You teased, heading for the door before he stopped you.

“Hey, y/n?” Steve stammered, getting a little choked up again as he stood in front of you in just his boxers. “That’s my shirt,” he said, a small smirk forming on his lips as he pointed to the t-shirt you’d accidentally slipped on instead of your own.

You fumbled around the room, pulling your top off the bed as you slipped his off over your head and quickly put yours on instead. “That could’ve been awkward.” You admitted, blushing, as you finally left his room for the night. That same smirk still hanging on his lips.

[bigskydreaming]

Tbh, another part of why I’m so vehemently anti-RPF is like.....one of the first things any legit agent or manager asks an actor when they sign them is if they’re willing to do nude scenes and/or sex scenes. And when there’s an actor whose work you follow cuz you think they’re hot and you notice they’ve never been in any kind of sex scene or even a shirtless scene, that’s not like...by accident, most of the time. 

Because a lot of actors aren’t comfortable with nude scenes. And it doesn’t have nearly as much to do with prudishness or religious reasons or any of that stuff as you might assume. I mean, I have done nude scenes. In some pretty big size productions as in with a full crew. And lemme tell you....they are NOT fun. Or sexy. Or hot. Like, even a little bit, lol.

Cuz like, its never just you and another actor in a bedroom. It’s you and another actor naked or close to naked.....in the middle of like.....forty fully dressed crewmen holding cameras and lighting and sound equipment and acting like you’re not just...naked in front of them, even though you and everyone else are actually super aware that yup, you definitely are. 

And there’s a million lights on you and set lights are HOT, they make you sweat like crazy, and so when you’re doing a lot of takes and getting sweaty from the lights you constantly have people running up to you between takes and like....toweling you off in a completely unsexy way, lol, and reapplying makeup and the whole time they’re not even talking to you but to each other, like you’re not even there, b/c they’re not trying to be rude but they’re in a hurry, they have to do this fast so there’s not really time to strike up a conversation with you while they do it. But its TOO weird to just be doing it in silence so they usually solve that awkwardness by being in the middle of a convo as they run up to you and your scene partner and just keep continuing it before running back.

And the whole time you’ve got a cranky, stressed and taking it out on everyone director yelling at you to basically...be more sexy, lol, with you having to do take after take after take and not even look just as into it as you did the take before, but dig deep and look even MORE into it. Because you wouldn’t still be shooting if you’d already done it right, you’re obvsly ‘not being sexy right’. And gotta say, lol, nothing makes it easier to feel and thus act sexy than an asshole you’d never sleep with in a million years yelling about how he’s not feeling like he wants to fuck you yet or like you want to fuck him yet. And he’s the audience, he says, he’s the people in the seats of the movie theater watching you pretend-fuck on screen, and so if he doesn’t feel like you wanna fuck him, then how do you expect they’re gonna be able to put themselves in the fantasy and feel like you’re talking to them, like you wanna fuck them? Ick.

So I mean....there’s actually a lot of reasons for actors to not want to do nude scenes, both men and women. Or for them to do one and then never do one again. And that’s not even getting into the after part of things, like....the weirdness of spending several more weeks working closely with several dozen people who have all seen you naked, up close and personal. Or the weirdness of knowing who-knows-how-many ppl out in the general public then have seen it too, fantasized about you, with you having no idea who any of them are, if you’d be like...comfortable with them having that level of intimacy with you if you did know who they are...*shrugs* Because there’s not really an easy way around the fact that someone seeing you naked IS a form of intimacy in our society. You’re exposed. You’re....all out there for them to critique or have opinions on or form fantasies about, with no way to reciprocate. And that’s a very weird feeling. That crosses well over into uncomfortable when you factor in that there’s no way to opt out of being seen like that by people you KNOW you wouldn’t want to share that level of intimacy with if it was just you and them.

Like, there’s one closeted actor I knew years ago who grew up in a small conservative town, and early on in his career he did a lot of sex-type scenes, like he was one of those actors who is pretty much always in a state of undress on every show he’s on, early on in their career. And he used to say how he never thought twice about it, thought he was totally fine with it....until he went back to his hometown for the holidays for the first time in years, and had all these old classmates and neighbors both his age and older women too, like actual friends of his parents or people who’d known him since he was a kid....and they were fawning over him while he was there and giggling about those scenes and how racy they were and blah blah...but the point was, when he came back to LA after the holidays, he just couldn’t do scenes like that anymore. 

Because, like he said, he’d never really thought of himself as someone who made the fact that he was gay a big part of his identity, but it was just too unsettling for him after that. Being aware that the very same people who were a huge part of why he was in the closet, because of all the shit they’d said when he was growing up about how gross and disgusting gay people and gay sex are...here they were, totally okay with and INTO simulated sex scenes that didn’t have an ounce of the intimacy he had in his actual sexual encounters with other guys. 

He was like “they’d all call me disgusting and tell me I was going to Hell if they found out what I do with boyfriends in my own home, but what I do on camera, surrounded by dozens of total strangers with a woman I only just met at our audition a week ago and have seen maybe twice since, like....that works for them?” And it just skeeved him out too much. He stopped auditioning for roles like that cold turkey, and I don’t think he’s actually ever done a nude scene since. He couldn’t get over knowing that the older women from his church who’d be the first to gossip about how sinful he was for having a boyfriend were instead gossiping on facebook about how hot he looked in this bedroom scene or whatever.

Anyway. Didn’t mean to go off on this tangent and didn’t realize that last post would bring this up, lmao. And tbh, like, I don’t ENJOY doing nude scenes, but I’ve never been bothered to the point of turning down a paying job. Like, it skeeves me out sometimes, stuff like I mentioned in that last post, coming face to face (so to speak) with the knowledge that someone I deeply dislike on a personal level has seen me that way and enjoyed it, but for me its a level of discomfort where I’m like, yeah, not ideal, but I can live with it. But for a lot of actors, it is a dealbreaker. 

And I feel this is something a lot of RPF-er’s don’t consider....like, with a lot of these celebrities, the way you’re talking about them, fantasizing about them, writing stories or sharing pictures about them, especially ones where there aren’t a lot of actual sexualized content available already for you to springboard off of, where you have to like...photoshop heads onto other bodies or make fanart from scratch.....they didn’t say they were cool with it. They didn’t give even the kinda tacit permission that comes from accepting a role where they willingly expose their entire body and self for anyone and everyone to see and to say or think whatever they want as a result. Like, someone accepting a job that casts them as the fantasy hero in a romance where they sweep their lover off their feet and gaze longingly into each other’s eyes and all that stuff....but with their clothes on....Its not exactly the same thing as voluntarily sexualizing themselves top to bottom, playing the part of an actively sexual being onscreen for you to then take in and absorb and do whatever you want with what they chose to put out there.

And thing is....this is still a form of consent, we’re talking about here. No, I’m not saying its the same kind as in a single person-to-person physical interaction. Violating someone’s consent so to speak, in this particular context, I’m not saying its interchangeable with someone being told no by a person and not stopping. I’m just saying....its not nothing either. You’re still taking away another human being’s right to decide whether or not they want you to have the level of intimacy that’s innately tied up in the viewing of a person in their most vulnerable state. Their right to decide whether they want you not just picturing them as a sexual fantasy, and in what ways. 

Because like....that’s the other thing about consent. It needs to be given for each individual interaction. It’s not a one-time issued all access pass. An actor consenting to be a part of your sexual fantasies in the role and form of a character from a movie where they have sex with another consenting adult.....is not a blank check saying hey, I’m also totally fine with you using my face and likeness and even name in your fantasies where you put me opposite a minor, or a homophobe, or an abuser. 

Like, just speaking for myself, I may be okay with however anyone chooses to view or think or talk about me based on the nude roles I’ve taken or in the context of them, even if it does make me kinda uncomfortable. But I very much would not the fuck be okay with someone sexualizing me opposite someone like, idk, Jared Leto, let’s say, someone that I fucking hate and would never in a million YEARS consent to being vulnerable, let alone intimate with, in any way, shape or form. 

I mean, lol, if you’ve been following me for long at all, think about what you know about me as a person, just in terms of like things I’m obviously passionate about, things I talk a lot about etc. Now keeping in mind what you know of me and my personality just as a person who exists beyond any particular fantasy someone might have after seeing me in a role, picture me as an actor. Say I someday ended up in a role in a shared universe franchise like Marvel or DC, where Jared Leto also played a role in that franchise, even if it wasn’t in the same movie, if I never actually consented to be in a movie starring alongside Jared Leto. But by virtue of the big sprawling franchise we’re both in and thus tangentially linked, there’s enough basis for someone who finds him hot and who also finds me hot to go, okay, I wanna ship them together, I want to craft my own sexual fantasy starring them both together, and maybe even write it out, share it online.

Now....knowing me even just on a ‘i follow this person on a social media platform’ level....do you think I’d be remotely comfortable with that? Sure, I’ll probably never find out, you could say, assuming you convince yourself I don’t know how to use google or never google myself or SHOULD never google myself, because....idg that logic tbh but whatever. But you still know. Isn’t it even just a little bit skeevy, building a sexy fantasy around two people when you know or are even just a little sure one of them would not the fuck consent to that?

Like, there’s no law against that, obviously. No one’s gonna come banging on your door and say you can’t do that, that you have Harmed Me in some material way and I’m gonna sue or press charges. But just purely from the standpoint of acknowledging that you may not know me at all, but you know that I exist somewhere on this planet as a living, breathing, thinking entity with my own agency and likes and dislikes....shouldn’t what I want or feel matter? Especially if I do happen to feel very strongly about this, to the point where I’ve taken actionable steps to NOT consent to be in any situation with someone like that where it could remotely be construed as sexual, or even like he’s someone who I could tolerate being around, like his very existence doesn’t gross me out given some of the stuff he’s done. Making deliberate, conscious choices to not take roles opposite him, stuff like that.

Now sure, you don’t know if this is the case, have no way of knowing this about any random actor, that they feel this way or would or would not have this or that opinion about the scenario you’re placing them in, if it were brought to their attention, if you had the opportunity to ask them face to face ‘hey would you be okay with this?’

But that’s the point. You don’t know. But at least maybe focus on actors in their ROLES that they chose to play, where they showed up to work and said okay, here I am to my job pretending to be this character who isn’t me, to bring them to life and make them real for audiences, make them someone they can imagine, or yes, fantasize about. Instead of just assuming for yourself that hey anything and everything is fair game because they took their shirt off in a show once and they’re an actor anyway so what does it matter, this is what they get paid for....

Well. No. Its not what we get paid for. We get paid for the job we sign up to do. That we CHOOSE to do. An actor gets paid to be fodder for sexual fantasies based around their role as a sexy spy in a thriller, maybe, but that’s not and really shouldn’t be treated as interchangeable with acting like they’re getting paid to be fodder for sexual fantasies with anyone and everything in every possible kinky scenario, consent not required, no age limit, anything goes.

I’m not saying its wrong to have sexual fantasies about an actor who’s lodged in your brain in a sexual context because yeah, they’ve done sex scenes before. I’m just saying....there’s a lot of angles that a lot of people don’t put any thought into at all before just doing whatever they want, and all these very important conversations about consent and sexual agency and all that.....they don’t stop being necessary just because they’ve crossed into territory where you don’t want to have these particular conversations, where there’s a status quo you’re comfortable with even if you think a status quo in another area of society needs to be challenged.

Anyway.

Oops, I thought I was done but I kept going. Why am I like this. Okay, now I’m done. Anyway. Just thoughts I have and thus shared, do with them as you will.

[mtvswatches]

Jane the Virgin 1x03 Chapter Three

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts 

1) The style of the “previously on” is very similar to the ones done in actual telenovelas, minus the narration. And on that note, I was wondering if the narrator will always be reliable or whether he will trick the viewers at some point? So far, he’s been reliable, but I guess there’s not much to base that argument on, you know?

2) Jane’s wishes, though…

#priorities

3) I really love how both her mom and her grandma have a great influence on her without being overbearing. She listens to both of them, and her decisions seem to fall somewhere in the middle.

4) I’m guessing Gina Rodriguez uttering these words…

…is part of a lot of people’s fantasies, right?

Also, I’m kind of surprised it took her so long to think of this “loophole”. Like, I thought they would bring it up in episode 1, but okay.

5) Could Petra have killed Zaz, though? The answer can’t be so straightforward, but we don’t have any clues yet… She doesn’t seem to be heartbroken, though.

6) The narrator keeps asking us to “trust” him, and I’m here like, hmmmm, maaaaaaybe?

7) Will Sin Rostro be someone we already know? Or someone that we haven’t met yet but who’s related to some of the main characters?

8) How will getting private messages from Petra – who is a suspect of murder – make Michael – the detective investigating the case – look? Someone is bound to find out.

9) Her fucking heartbeat started racing when she touched his arm…

10) Why was Rose so fascinated with Jane, though? And Luisa is a naughty girl, isn’t she?

11) How is Michael going to explain this one?

12) “But instead he lied.” Of course he did. Can’t say I’m surprised.

13) “I'm dismissing you 'cause you're not making any sense. You're, like, hormonal or something.” And you know what, Michael?

But in all seriousness, this is some serious gaslighting right here, isn’t it?

14) I mentioned this in my previous recap, but I really enjoy how honest Rafel and Jane are with each other and how much they value each other’s opinions. I’m keeping my fingers crossed super hard that this doesn’t change once they get together (I’m guessing they will because duh.)

JANE: I'm judgey. You should know that about me. You may end up having a really judgey kid.

RAFAEL: Okay, so what does "judgey" sound like? So that I can be prepared.

JANE: You told me that you don't want to be anything like your dad, which is easy enough to say. But actions are what count. So, what are you doing about it?

RAFAEL: I hope the baby's judgey.

And let’s see what he does about it, right?

15) I really love that Alba is traditional but not old-fashioned or too set on her ways. Like, she seems to be super cool with her daughter sleeping with her old flame in her own house (she even covered up for them in front of Jane.) And she’s so excited when Xiomara gets the presents from Rogelio? (This guy is truly clueless, isn’t he?) I like you, Alba.

16) Seriously, Rogelio.

17) Yeah, completely logical suggestion. Sound advice, sound advice.

18) Michael is a complete idiot, okay? Who in their right mind would tamper with his own investigation’s evidence just to avoid her girlfriend from keeping a baby?

19) Oh, Rogelio, Rogelio…

He’s so clueless, but I think he might be one of my favorite characters so far.

20) I really loved that when faced with a similar situation to the one Michael faced – the possibility of telling a lie that would inevitably snowball – Jane chose to come clean. That’s kind of refreshing.

21) I love how all of Alba’s resolve melts down the second she sees Rogelio in his glorious El President outfit. He is a charmer, though. And Alba was swayed so easily, I loved it.

22) So Petra got Jane and Michael the suite… is this a favor she intends to cash back?

23) Am I… am I watching Crazy Ex Girlfriend now?!

24) I like how Xiomara and Alba play the devil and angel on Jane’s shoulders, but they’re both good people with good intentions, it’s just that they have very different outlooks on life and very different parenting styles.

25) Well, you’d have to be dead for her heart not to pound like crazy after dancing like this with this hottie…

I don’t ship it yet, though. I wonder if I will because I don’t usually ship the pairings that the shows try to shove down your throat from episode one, and Rafael and Jane are clearly that. I tend to prefer the underdog romantic interest, the unexpected I-never-saw-that-coming-but-the-chemistry-was-impossible-to-ignore one. So we’ll see how it goes with this show.

26) So, Rose enjoys the sordid tryst with her step-daughter, but it’s only that. I can’t see Luisa being okay with this. And how long can you call what they have “temporary”? It seems this has been going on for a long time…

27) Saved by the bell, literally.

28) Alba’s words are meant to be accepting and supportive, but they have a different effect on Jane, they forced her to face her feelings, the fact that she’s not so sure Michael is the man she wants to marry…

Mi amor, quería decirte algo. Aún cuando cometas este pecado mortal, yo te sigo queriendo. Te guardaste para el hombre con el que te vas a casar, el hombre del que estás segura. Y me da gusto que no me hayas mentido, te quiero mucho.

29) Her heart, though…

30) Oh Petra, you’re fucked…

PETRA: Hey, did you ever get in touch with Aaron?

RAFAEL: Aaron?

PETRA: Zaz's brother. You mentioned him this morning.

NARRATOR: He had not got in touch with Aaron. In fact, Rafael's search for Zaz's brother had been stymied by one simple fact. Until this moment, he never knew his name.

31) Oh, Jane, you lied to Michael… tsk, tsk…

32) And it backfired…

MICHAEL: We'll wait, then. But what are we waiting for? I-I love you. You're the person I want to be with. So there's no reason why we can't move the wedding up, right?

33) Of course Petra is manipulating Michael, in what world did white loaf bread could possibly believe he’d be able to call the shots in this scenario? I gotta wonder, though, could the murderer been her mum? I mean, I can totally picture her pulling a Spike - pretending she’s in a wheelchair so that she can get away with stuff. Hmmm.

34)

The narrator seems surprised, but even before that, I had the feeling that “XO” doesn’t stand for Xiomara, maybe just your regular XOXO? From what I’ve seen of Rogelio so far, I can totally believe him deciding to send the pre-made gift basket thinking that she would totally love it, without giving it a second thought. Dude is totally self-absorbed, so I can’t picture him going out of his way to get her a personalized, meaningful present like the bracelet. That ought to have been a mistake of some kind.

Thing is, whether I’m right or wrong, this definitely makes the narrator less than omniscient. He was thrown off by the bracelet. So maybe it’s not so that he is unreliable but that he doesn’t see the whole picture... 

Yes, I know, I’m way too obsessed with the role of the narrator, I just find it fascinating okay?

35) Does your wish come true if the firefly dies on your hands?

36) I enjoyed this episode, I really like where the stories are going, but I was fully expecting another huge plot twist. Onto the next one!

37) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

38) This recap is dedicated to @capitalnineteen , who requested first on this post! Thank you for showing your support!

[beaniegara]

11 Questions

tagged both by @yaboybergara​ and @ricky-goldsworth​ which is great because that gives me 22 questions mwahhahaha thank you folks!! <3 

RULES

1. always post the rules

2. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

3. write 11 questions of your own

4. tag 11 people you want to get to know better (or however many you want)

now, see, I don’t know what to ask........ so I’m gonna be a little shit and tag folks to pick 11 of these 22 questions and answer them too. nini and gray pls don’t sue me for reusing your questions, thank fdgkfndgfdsk I’m tagging @kaylotta, @queerunsolved, @haunted-gays, @thatmademadej, and @i-am-ghost-proof-baby <3 if yall wanna do it, of course. no pressure.

this is incredibly long (and uncomfortably honest). let’s go lesbians let’s go

first, nini’s questions:

1. How many pets have you had in your life?

one. I’ve always wanted them but my mom and I have always lived in tiny apartments and had no way to care for a pet so it wasn’t until I was 17 that we adopted a kitten!! his name was merlin and he was the laziest, moodiest lil ball of fluff I’ve ever met. I.. had to give him away a year later because we moved to a place even smaller that wouldn’t allow pets so long story short I’m scarred for life and don’t think I can ever take any more pets without feeling guilty to my bone 

this is merlin btw I love him with all my heart and he now lives in a farm. as far as I know anyway.. :(

2. Do you believe in destiny? Why?

mmm interesting question. weird, metaphysical theories aside, I don’t believe anything is set in stone per se, but I do believe that some things are just... meant to be? in a way? for example, you can’t tell me ryan and shane weren’t meant to be friends and find each other in such an unlikely place as they did. one of my mottos, completely stripped from context because it’s from a rather pretentious tv show, is “the universe is rarely so lazy”. meaning that good things happen for a reason, and that you trailed that path for that to happen. yknow what I’m saying? I can’t really explain this without writing a 10 page essay because that’s just how my gemini ass thinks 

3. If you could chose one person on the great beyond, would you take the chance to talk to them? 

you mean someone who has passed away? oh yeah, I would talk to my grandmother. she was raising me and died when she was 4 and that changed not only my entirely life but our whole extended family dynamic... so many questions.

4. From all your hobbies, which one would you love to make a living of?

oh man, writing. I’ve been dreaming of being a writer ever since I was 9 or something. never panned out but that would certainly be the dream. if I could work with videos, subtitling, tv shows, cinema etc that would also be dope as hell!

5. What’s your favorite color palette to wear?

fkgjfsdgiusfdksd I have no fashion sense whatsoever, idk? I do like to wear dark clothes (because weight..) and reds (because pale).

6. What’s your opinion on queerbaiting?

I don’t have the time for it. for starters, it’s something that usually comes from people with very poor writing skills that can’t come up with plots interesting enough to keep viewers/readers hooked in. that already says something. no offense to anyone who is a fan of shows like these, but when it’s mostly written by white men I just don’t have any high hopes for it. you can ask flavs what my reaction was like when I realized the character I had headcanon’ed as wlw in hannibal was actually a wlw. I couldn’t believe it, because what???? since when does that happen, especially in a show run by a white man??? kjdfghsjgd 

I think this is part of a bigger conversation but my point is, don’t fall for it. I know it’s all part of the fight for representation, asking big names to produce big shows with lgbtq+ characters in it and so on, but for the love of god, watch something else too!!!! let GOT rot and die!!!!!!!!! look up different, smaller, cheaper shows, that’s where you find lgbtq+ content creators!!!!!! there’s so many wlw webseries out there, you wouldn’t believe it. you have a choice. don’t give any more of your time and love and word-of-mouth to shows/movies that clearly have no interest in being more diverse. they don’t deserve you. 

and that’s not to say any of it is on us. quite on the contrary, they’re using us. but aside from calling out their bullshit, we do have a chance to boost lgbtq+ content creators. don’t let them fool you into thinking they’re doing you any favors, or that they’re our last chance so we should be paying attention to what they’re doing/saying. fuck them!!!! you can’t queerbait me because I don’t trust you or give you the chance to do it. and you can shove your very straight, very white shows where the sun doesn’t shine, @ hollywood.  

7. Is there a language you would love to speak?

french and korean, mostly. I can understand a little bit of both, but I really wish I was fluent :( oh, will to live and learn, where art thou...

8. Do you have, like, a dream so wild you think it’s impossible?

kjgnsfdkjhjjs having enough money to support myself and my mother??? I don’t have any big, wild dreams, I think. just.......... living comfortably would be a+  

9. How many AUs of your own life do you have in your head?

oh man. I keep thinking about living somewhere in idk iceland or scotland just like... tending goats or something. that’s the most comfortable version of myself I can think of.

I also like to imagine if I could handle being a film director, because that sounds like fun. maybe a screenwriter? anything creative in films, really. 

there’s also the unattainable dream of having a wife and idk maybe adopting a kid? and we’d just. support each other. and love each other. and that’s just. I. [cries]

I like to think how things would be if I were actually hot and not socially awkward.. I’d be someone completely different, basically lol 

10. If you were to meet your younger self, do you think they would think you cool or not?

oh god, younger me would hate present me D: I had such high hopes for myself, I had lots of dreams lol never in a million years did I think I’d be where I am today...

11. Not a question, but please add something postive about yourself, something that you love about you.

IDJFSSIODUGSDFKGDSJ IT’S LIKE YOU KNEW I’D BE A NEGATIVE FUCK, NINI. I................................ I like that I have an easy time with languages? or with classes in general. I like to learn from people, I’m just really unmotivated to leave the house lol 

now onto gray’s q’s:

1. What’s your favourite music video of all time?

straight-up impossible questions right out of the gate huh I SEE YOU, GRAY. I SEE YOU kjdfgjfsdhgkdsjfs

I’ll have to go with a few,

“prototype” by viktoria modesta is just GORGEOUS. I can’t get over this video & song and it’s been years.

“jackpot” by block b looks creepy as shit but the context makes it such a clever yet fun video. take into account that these guys were screwed over by the kpop company that created the group, and that the lyrics talk about hitting jackpot in an industry that’s savage to say the least. to me this video is a visual representation of what a dangerous trap entertainment companies are in the kpop industry, and it also ties in with the groups’ story of being made into dolls by a company and then telling them to fuck off in the end lol 

“treat me like your mother” by the dead weather. I don’t know why I just love it. (cw: gun violence)

“emperor’s new clothes” by panic! at the disco. I MEAN, LOOK AT IT.

“manyo maash” by puer kim. I just love the aesthetic?

honorable mention: “tick tick boom” by the hives because that’s a banger. ba dum tssss.

2. What’s a favourite memory of yours?

I have plenty of good memories, thank god. I think one of my favorites is just hanging out with my friends in 2008-9; one of their older brothers was driving us around town, we were listening to the white stripes at full volume, singing along, all sitting pressed up close together in his shitty car. man, my teenage years would’ve been fantastic if I had stayed there with them!! 

3. Do you play video games? If so, which one’s your favourite?

I DO!!! I mean, not as much as I’d like because a) no money to spare on games/consoles, and b) I suck at basically everything. but I’m obsessed with paladins these days, and I’m also a big fan of LOTRO. I like horror games--mostly the resident evil and silent hill type--and fps. I grew up playing some tomb raider, medal of honor, resident evil... oh, those were the days. 

4. How did you first get into [your fandom of choice]?

with bfu it was that kind of thing where I’d see a meme or two cross my dash and it was always this ridiculous screenshot, or those “that’s it, that’s the show” kinda things with dozens of thousands of notes... until one day I was incredibly anxious, and I needed to watch something or I’d never finish the assignments I had for college. so I just thought “oh hey I should check out that unsolved thing people like so much, it’s buzzfeed so it’s probably good bg noise to work with” lol and it did work, and I did finish my assignments, and that means that I first watched the show barely paying any attention to it because I was busy doing something else. but ryan’s and shane’s voices helped me relax and to this day they still help a lot with my anxiety, to the point that I need to keep coming back every minute or so during episodes because I get distracted just listening to their voices and not absorbing a word lol

5. How did you first get into fandom in general?

uhh.. well, I was a big “pottermaniac” (that’s how I called it) since I was 9, but that was before I realized fandom was a Thing on the internet too. I remember when I was maybe 10 or 11, I entered a chatroom (god, those were wild) just in time to see someone saying in all caps HARRY POTTER IS GREAT AND YOU’RE ALL DUMB FOR NOT SEEING IT or something fkdsjgfdugfsdk and it was this girl using the nickname fawkes. she was older than me, I think that 15 or something, and we exchanged addresses (!!! how am I alive!!!) and were pen pals for a while. but it took me so fucking long to actually find the fandom online that I think my first brush with it was with the arctic monkeys forum I found online in 2008, where I mistakenly said I liked “the muse” and people laughed at me so I never went back to it lol then in 2010 I found out about kpop and that’s when I really dived head-first into fandom life. took me long enough (tbf I was very against the notion of being a “fan” because I was an idiot).

6. What’s at the top of your bucket list?

great fucking question. no idea. I guess.. traveling overseas? if we’re talking wild, distant things. but closer to my reality, getting a job that pays me at least the minimum wage disjgdfgkfsdk #fuckinternships

7. What’s something not many people know about you?

I love dancing and miss it like hell.

8. What’s your favourite medium for storytelling - movie, book, television, musical, comic, internet video, video game, something else? Why that medium?

ohhhhhhh this is an interesting question. as much as I love writing, and think that’s one of the best things we humans have ever come up with, I do love.. musicals? not necessarily theater--although that’s great and I’d sell my soul to see chicago live--but I love the idea of telling stories through music. I really wish we could bring back the custom of telling stories orally, and through music, and that we could as society agree that collective singing is beautiful and should be reintroduced in our day-to-day lives. sure listening to (1) artist singing is great but hAVE YOU TRIED SINGING ALONG DURING A CONCERT WHERE EVERYONE ELSE IS SINGING TOO? best fucking feeling in the world. 

we had two bands in brazil, in different periods of time, that were so incredibly famous they’re still cornerstones in our music history. one was legião urbana, some folk-ey rock band that had a couple of songs telling these really long stories that I LOVE with all my heart. faroeste caboclo is our bohemian rhapsody, most people my age or older know the lyrics to it. and mamonas assassinas was this comical (?) rock band that sang dumb, fun songs that usually told stories too and that was the best. I miss that kinda thing. 

9. What’s your favourite food?

red meat, mainly churrasco. but I also can’t live without chocolate milk AND the whopper. capitalism has me by the stomach.

10. Do you have a joke to share?

fjgfsdgskfdgfsk I don’t.. it’s been so long since I last tried telling a joke, I don’t think I know any?

11. What song/artist helped you through your struggles?

pitty has been a big part of my life for some 14-odd years now. “be ok” by ingrid michaelson and “starlight” by muse were my anthems when depression hit hard during my teenage years. the white stripes has also been a constant, with gems like “blue orchid” and “a martyr for my love for you” turning into sort of theme songs for certain parts of my life. choi sam helped me through college. and even though they were a huge disappointment to the point that I stopped listening to them altogether, block b gave me a good 4 or 5 years of distraction from life.

[thetakenpokemon]

Interlude II - Break From the Work Scene

[Location: Unknown Town - Unknown Pub] [PoV: Valence]

“Wait, so we’re not taking another job?” I ask Rodrigo, who is sitting beside me.

“I’d say not.” He chuckles, taking a bite of melted cheese bread. The strands of cheddar and mozzarella drip from the bread, catching on the fur under his chin. “We’ve made more than enough from the past four bounties, it’s about time we stop our hunting and take a little R & R.”

Upon hearing this I feel my mouth wide into a full-blown grin. “Hell yeah!” I laugh. “’Bout time I say, I was starting to forget what relaxing feels like.”

Normally I wouldn’t swear when Artemisia is around, but thankfully she and the others are currently away, doing their own thing in the town we’re in.

Heh, so far I’m still managing to do a good job avoiding her..

I lean on my hand, pulling out another peppermint stick and sucking on its end. “Any places in mind?”

Rodrigo shrugs. “None as of currently. However first it would be best to discuss with the others, in case they wish to return back to their homes or families.”

Oh yeah, that’s a thing.

Once the candy I’ve been sucking on softens enough I take a bite, the sweet pepperminty taste filling my mouth as I crunch on it. “I hope we don’t go to any cities.” I say, still chewing. “Hanara City was enough to last me for more than a life-time.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He says while rolling his eye, finishing his bread.

I cross my arms, the peppermint stick poking out of my lips. “Yeah, to you at least. You know I don’t like the city life.” Thinking of all the loud noises makes me cringe slightly. “It’s just way too overwhelming, I prefer when things are quieter, like a candy store during the slow hours.”

“I’m not surprised to hear you use that analogy.” Rodrigo chuckles. “But I’ll keep that in mind when I speak with the others on the matter, but they have their own opinions on the matter as well.”

“Except for Vedika.” I mutter under my breath, too low for Rodrigo to hear. “Her opinions are either fucked up or she doesn’t give a fuck to begin with.”

“What was that?” He asks, giving me an incredulous look.

“Nothing.” I say nonchalantly, leaning back in my chair.

“Right...” He says slowly, not believing me. However he doesn’t push the matter, instead focusing on digging into another slice of cheese bread.

Since our conversation is kinda over I let my gaze drift lazily around the pub. The place itself isn’t very crowded at the moment, mostly since it’s currently after lunch-hours.

Besides me and Rodrigo there aren’t really any interesting characters, just a few Pokemon wearing various kinda of clothing and conversing with one another. One particular table catches my eye though, specifically the person sitting there.

It’s kinda hard to see all of the details from where I’m sitting, but the guy is wearing...quite a lot of clothes actually. Almost as much as me even, if not more so.

He seems to be wearing some kind of hooded cape? The cape itself isn’t quite interesting, but the hood has some rather interesting red markings on there. The outfit underneath that looks like it’s made of leather or brown cloth, which covers his entire body. I can see a blue reptilian tail poking out from his cape as well as a yellow horn from his hood, which is making it even more difficult to tell his species.

Regardless, something about him just screams ‘bounty hunter’, or at least one of the more self-absorbed kind.

You know what? I’m gonna check him out.

“I’ll be right back.” I tell Rodrigo, getting up from my chair. Without waiting for the Chesnaught’s response I make my way over to the guy I was eyeing.

“Hey.” I say, getting the guy’s attention.

He turns to gaze at me, which gives me a good look of his face. To my surprise he’s actually a Scrafty with some strong Samurott genes, seeing his blue lizard-like face combined with the horn. He looks at me with narrowed eyes, looking at me with suspicion.

“Can I help ya?” He asks in a somewhat disgruntled voice, his accent being something I can’t quite place. It’s sound a little like that Magmar farmer’s, but a bit more...’distinct’.

Without even asking his permission I pull up a chair and sit down at his table. He grimaces at this, his irritation growing more apparent.

Course I don’t intend to fully irritate the guy, since I’m above that sort of stuff. Well, mostly. However that wasn’t the main reason as to why I’m here to begin with.

“You a bounty hunter?” I ask him out of the blue, making him stop.

“...Yeah?” He says uncertainly, eyeing me skeptically. “How’d ya know?”

I lean back in my chair and grin, taking another bite out of my peppermint stick. “Think of it as a bounty hunter’s intuition, I saw you and immediately noticed the signs.”

This makes him lean back slightly. “So ya’re a bounty hunter too, eh?”

I nod my head. “Yup, what I said.” I take the last bite out of my peppermint stick, finishing it off. “Not gonna lie? You seemed kinda familiar, or at least you have a sort of appearance that’s recognizable.” I extend one of my hands towards him. “The name’s Valence by the way.”

Upon hearing me say that he seems kinda familiar he quickly grins. “Heh, I guess mah reputation does get quite around.” He accepts my offer and gives my extended hand a firm shake. “The name’s Shadowjack, now does it become clear?”

I feel myself stop when the name hits my ears.

“Shadowjack?” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He nods, grinning with satisfaction. “One of the best bounty hunters ‘round these parts. Now you know why ah seem familiar, eh?”

My expression grows flat. “Never heard of you.”

This makes him snap out of whatever prideful feeling he was in. “Wha-?”

I nod my head. “Yup, never heard of you at all.” I tilt my head slightly, cocking an eyebrow. “And what kind of name is Shadowjack? That can’t be your real name.”

At this his eyes narrow again. “It’s my name, that’s why I gave it ta’ ya.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s not your name, c’mon man. I know everyone is all about those nicknames to make themselves cooler, but it’s kinda ridiculous though.”

A low growl escapes from him. “My name is Shadowjack, whatever thought ya thinkin’ of won’t change a thing.”

“Yeah and my name is Twilight Sparkle.” I comment snidely. “But fine, I’ll call you Shadowjack if it’ll make you feel better.”

His gloved hands clench into fists. “If tha’ only reason for ya comin’ here is ta’ make fun of my name, then I’ll kindly ask ya ta’ leave.”

Huh, even though it wasn’t intentionally I guess I really did intend to fully irritate the guy. Kinda funny how things change on the fly.

But then again I can’t really blame myself, since...well...

...who the hell names themselves Shadowjack?

Like c’mon, that can’t be his real name. If it is then I feel very bad for him, since parents like that really shouldn’t be having children. I mean seriously, that sort of stuff is just asking for your kid to get beaten up.

Another growl fills the air, snapping me out of my thoughts. However this time it isn’t from the Scrafty guy, but instead from my stomach.

Damn, guess peppermint sticks don’t really fill you up after all.

“Hey waiter!” I shout, getting the attention of one of said people. “I’d like an order of that cheese bread platter!”

A second growl fills the air, but THIS time coming from the Scrafty again. “Why...are ya still here...?” He hisses.

I glance over at him, noticing his narrowed eyes and that his hands are right next to his Seamitars.

You know what? The guy looks like he needs some food. You tend to be a bit grabby with your weapons if you’re hungry.

I know this from experience.

“Actually, make that two platters.” I correct myself, in which the waiter nods uncertainly.

What? I’m a generous guy when I want to be, the guy looks like he needs something in his stomach to get over the fact that his parents named him Shadowjack.

And let me tell you, nothing is better than filling your stomach with delicious cheese bread. Rodrigo definitely had the right idea.

“You can thank me later.” I say to the Scrafty, grinning.

He grits his teeth in response.

[2013sharry]

DJ Got Us Falling In Love

Hello, hello! I am finally back with more writing! Honestly, the only reason I took so long was because this literally took me almost two months to write because I am the worst and my computer broke and I don’t really even know. This isn’t completely how I wanted it to be but I’ve been writing it for two months and I couldn’t keep tweaking it anymore. Let me know what you think! 

EDIT: I totally forgot to mention that I kind of set this up as a Part 2 for Secret Love Song. It can be read as a standalone one shot if you want but if you want some backstory for it or were looking for a part 2 for SLS you can read it like that as well!

“So baby tonight, the DJ’s got us falling in love again.”

You’re torturing yourself. Scrolling through all your social media only hurts you but it’s like your fingers work of their own accord.

It’s everything Harry trained you not to do. “Don’ pay attention t'it, love,” he’d murmur in your ear as he’d reach around you to close incriminating tabs open on your laptop. “Doesn’t mean anythin’.” But it did mean something, it always did.

More than ever, you should be heeding his advice. Every article, every new picture, every interview twists the knife in you that much more. It’s enough that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. But now you’re forced to watch his life unfold in front of your very eyes, whether you like it or not.

And like it, you do not. It isn’t as simple as unfollowing him like with any old ex. No because his face would still be splashed all over the internet, even if it isn’t his social media pages you’re checking.

Although, you are checking. And you don’t like what you see.

Countless blogs and gossip sites have his picture all over their page, speculating about the new girl he’d been parading around. Even as you read the various accounts, you can hear his voice in the back of your mind, “S'not real. These people are jus’ bored. Need something to do,” but you push it away. He’d broken up with you, hadn’t he? You don’t have to listen to what he says, even if it is only in your mind.

“Stop it,” a voice chimes out that mirrors the one in your head. You peel your eyes from your phone screen in time to watch your best friend snatch it from your hand.

“Hey!” You reach to grab it back but she only pulls it farther.

“This is not healthy,” she continues, rolling up the window of the cab. She smooths out the unruly mess the wind had made of her hair, dropping the phone in her bag. “I’m taking this hostage.”

“Give it back,” you insist. You had been only moments away from discovering the identity of your ex’s mystery girl. A sigh escapes you when you remember that you were once considered his mystery girl.

“No,” she fights back. “Come on. We’re having a girls’ night.”

It had been months since you and Harry broke up but you still didn’t feel ready to get back out there. Your friends had understood, giving you the space to figure things out for yourself, but tonight you aren’t being granted that space. It isn’t so much a girls’ night as it’s your best friend dragging you out of the house. And though she’d nearly had to pull you out of your bed kicking and screaming, once you walk through the door of the bar, you feel good. Maybe you aren’t ready to put yourself out there yet, but you could still dress up and have a good time with your best friend.

“Drinks?” she asks and you nod in agreement. “You go find a table, I’ll grab us something.” With that, she’s off to flirt her way to free drinks.

Your eyes scan the room, hoping for an empty table. Nothing was worse than wearing shoes you couldn’t possibly stand in all night in a place with nowhere to sit. Much to your dismay, that seems to be exactly the case tonight. Undeterred you make your way over to a table of drunk girls. If nothing else, your specialty was hovering around tables in the hopes of snatching them up as soon as they became available. However, these girls are just as determined to stay as you are, so you glance around the room for another table almost ready to leave. And that’s when you spot him.

You hope you’re imagining things but the curly head and flashy shirt are a dead giveaway. It’s definitely him, and with the flock of people hovering around him, you’re surprised you hadn’t noticed earlier.

And it’s like he can sense your eyes on him because within seconds, he’s turning to face you, eyes wide with surprise when they register you. You avert yours, hoping it’ll give the impression that he shouldn’t come over. But either he doesn’t notice, or he ignores it, because out of the corner of your eye, you see him excuse himself and make his way over.

Your heart is pounding at such a rapid pace you feel like everyone else in the room can hear it. The space between the two of you is growing smaller and smaller which each one of his heeled boot steps but you still can’t manage to look over at him. Maybe if you keep your eyes squeezed shut you can will this to just be your imagination.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ standing here all by yourself?” And suddenly, your eyes fly open. There Harry is, standing in front of you, his signature smirk pointing directly at you. The sound of his voice hits you like a train and you’re certain your knees are going to give out. You’d heard his voice in interview clips and the crooning sound of it on his album but to hear it directed at you makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Hi,” you reply back lamely. Neither of you say anything after that and even in the crowded bar, you feel like the silence is swallowing you whole.

“Yeh know,” he says after realizing you aren’t continuing, “you don’ have to stand over here alone. Could sit with us.” He gestures back across the room to his already packed table. You catch glimpses of members of his team that had never approved of you and people that look so glamorous that you feel out of place being in the same space as them. The exact group that had intimidated you out of your relationship.

“That’s ok,” you say, coming off a little shy. “It looks like you’re all full anyway.”

“‘S’always room for yeh.” He says this so directly, his eyes locked on you. You’re suddenly aware of how empty your hands are and would kill for that drink your friend promised you.

You choose not to respond, mostly because you don’t know how to. “I’m here with someone, anyway.” You swear his smile falters. “Uh, she’s at the bar getting us drinks.”

His face brightens a little at the clarification and thankfully, he finally averts his eyes from you to take a look towards the bar. He squints, “’S tha—?”

“Yeah,” you confirm and he smiles.

“Doesn’ look like she’s bringing ‘em over anytime soon.” You follow his gaze to see your friend making conversation with the bartender with what is most definitely her flirty face, sipping on an already half empty drink. You note yours sitting right in front of her, discarded and ice melting.

“C’mon,” he says and you turn your attention back to him. His hand is outstretched and you hesitate.

Its one thing to make casual conversation with him in passing but it’s a different thing altogether to take his hand and spend the night at his table with him. It would be too much like old times for you to bear. But his eyes gently plead you, something you’re very familiar with, and like always you’re powerless to resist. Your hand reaches out, almost on its own accord, and takes his. The smile on his face grows and he moves to lead you through the crowd.

At his table, he introduces you to a few people loitering around before pulling you to sit down next to him. You can’t help but note the mysterious blonde from the internet photos and the fact that he doesn’t extend his hand to introduce you.

He’s got bottles at his table and though you’re about to refuse, Harry’s already poured you a drink – your favorite, of course. He slides it over to you without a word and he picks up his own glass. It’s quiet between the two of you, both sipping on your respective drinks, until he speaks up and it’s like his voice echoes across the whole place.

“You look…amazing,” he says, almost breathless. The intensity of his gaze used to make you feel special, the most important person in the room to him. But right now, it makes you feel shy, like you don’t deserve it anymore.

With averted eyes, you reply with a soft, “Thanks.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you and you feel the sudden need to reciprocate. “You look very handsome, yourself.” Your compliment is spoken just as softly with an added, “As always.” A blush flies over your cheeks at the involuntary addition but he doesn’t seem to mind.

His lips curve into a smile and it fills your body with unexpected warmth. It may not have happened too often right before things ended, but nothing could make you forget the feeling of knowing you were the reason he was smiling. His expression lingers and you find yourselves just looking at each other. To be honest, after all this time, it was nice to be able to see his face somewhere that wasn’t the grainy screen of your computer.

As if on cue, Sign of the Times comes blaring through the speakers. It’s some insane club remix, and you scrunch your nose in displeasure. “You know,” you say, straining to be heard over his voice pumping out of the speakers, “your new stuff is really good.”

“Don’ think I forgot to add a bass drop?” he comments with a cheeky smile as the beat thumps heavily around the bar.

A giggle escapes your lips at the thought of him making beats in the studio. “Definitely not.”

He chuckles, breaking eye contact and looking down at his drink. “Thanks, though. I, uh, I’m glad t’see your opinion hasn’t changed.”

“I’ve been listening to it non-stop,” you admit. “It’s my favorite album to listen to at the moment.”

“Mine too,” he replies. “In the least self-absorbed way possible, of course,” he adds with a dry chuckle.

And with that, the two of you fall into a rhythm that feels almost too natural. His head still falls back the same way when he laughs at something silly you say. Your eyes still nearly roll out of your head when he tries to subtly sneak a few puns into the conversation. And even though there’s plenty of space between you two, his hand still manages to brush up against the bare skin of your knee a few times, sending your heart rate soaring.

A few more drinks, a few sideward glances you throw the blonde at the end of the table, and almost an hour of catching up goes by. His arm is resting around the back of your chair now, his own chair having been slid over little by little directly next to yours at some point.

He’s leaning in when he speaks, so close you can feel the fan of his warm breath across your skin. “You know, it’s really…” Harry trails off, like he’s lost steam but the inquisitive look on your face pushes him forward. “It’s really good t’see yeh.”

And though your heart aches for him even more now that he’s sitting right next to you, you agree. “You too,” you say. The hint of politeness in your voice isn’t lost on him.

“No,” he says, sighing as if you didn’t understand him. He runs a hand over his face, frustrated, seemingly trying to string together the words to make you understand him. “I jus’…I haven’ been able to stop thinkin’ about yeh since everything happened.”

His face displays a hint of the same sadness that you’d been feeling deep in your chest every moment you’d been separated from him. He’s given you an opening. It’s a chance to really tell him how you’ve been feeling – the night you broke up, the months since, and even the bittersweet moments you’d spent with him tonight. It’s your chance to finally tell him how desperately you miss him.

But missing him is an understatement and you aren’t even sure how to express that to him.

“No, no,” he says hurriedly, and it’s only then that you realize your eyes are filling with tears, “I didn’ mean to upset yeh, love.”

You sniffle. “I need some air.” And without waiting for a response, you’re shimmying out of from behind the table to find the door. You don’t make it too far when a hand tugs on yours and you look back to see Harry.

“Door’s this way.” His head nods in the opposite direct and you allow him to pull you towards it. Feeling a bit childish, you wipe away stray tears with your free hand. The cool night air hits you as soon as the back door swings open. It’s obvious why the outdoor tables are all vacant but Harry heads towards them anyway.

“I don’t want to sit,” you say. You shiver as you wander over to the fence that closes in the back area.

Harry’s right behind you – you can feel him – but he doesn’t say anything. You take a deep breath in, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. If anything, being outside makes you feel worse. The inside of the bar, with the noise and the people, is full of distraction. Out here, it’s just the two of you.

“Talk to me,” he whispers quietly when it’s obvious your deep breathing isn’t calming you.

When you remain quiet, he sighs. “’M’sorry.” You sniffle but don’t turn around. “M’not trying to overwhelm yeh.  Jus’ when yeh show up here,” he pauses and you can see from his shadow that he’s gesturing to you, “lookin’ like that, it’s hard for me to stay away.”

A puff of air blows past your lips and you finally turn to face him. “I miss you too.” It’s so quiet you’re sure you have to repeat yourself but the twitch of his lip almost into a smile lets you know he heard loud and clear.

“Then talk to me.” Looking into his eyes, it seems so easy. Like the last few months of hurt and yearning would spill out of your mouth just because he asked. His earnest expression nearly tricks you into thinking you could solve everything in the back of some random bar.

“I just…” you trail off, contemplating the right words, even though you know there aren’t any. If there were, you’d have said them to him long ago.

Though he doesn’t prompt you any further, his body inches dangerously closer to you and the pull for him you’d felt when you first spotted him is getting hard to ignore. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to each other and selfishly you want to soak up every second of it, even if it’ll hurt later.

“I just miss you,” you repeat. It’s simple, and doesn’t even come close to the ache for him you’d been feeling, but it’s all you can come up with – nothing but the shallow characterization of your emotions that the statement brings.

His body responds to the tears continuing to brim your eyes, almost to convey words he isn’t ready to say. His hands reach out, hesitantly, to settle on your waist, pulling on you until you’re flush with him and his forehead drops to yours. With eyes closed, he lets out a sigh.

“’M so sorry,” he mumbles. Your hands feel stupid, hanging limply at your side, so you slid them to grip his arms. His sleeves are rolled up and the brush of his skin against yours sends shivers down your spine. How long had you been desperate to feel this again? “Ruined everythin’, didn’ I?”

“You didn’t,” you reassure, grip tight on his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut, sending the tears pooled in them spilling down your face. “Just…circumstances got out of hand.”

With a shake of his head, he insists, “Circumstances I let get out of hand,” and you can’t deny it. Had he not let his team’s opinions cloud his mind, maybe things wouldn’t have changed so much between the two of you.

He senses your agreement through the silence. “I’ll fix it,” he murmurs quietly. “I’ll make everything up t’yeh. Please let me make it up t’yeh.”

You want to pinch yourself. There’s no way he’s standing here, holding you, gently brushing the tears from your cheeks, telling you everything you’d been desperate to hear the last few months. Your fingers dig into his skin, involuntarily. You want to believe him so badly but it can’t really be as simple as him promising to change the hurtful way he’d let his team treat you. If it was, wouldn’t he have had tried it when you were still together?

You hold each other in silence, his hands now cupping your face, yours gripping onto the warm skin of his forearms, while Harry waits for a response – affirmation that yes, he could still make things work with you, or rejection that no, it’s too late.

At the prolonged quiet, he lifts his forehead from yours, eyes intently searching yours for some kind of answer. You look up at him, lip pulled in between your teeth. Words are lost on your tongue as you feel a breeze blow through the two of you. Being this close to him is too much, any resolve you’d have to think straight being broken down with every stroke of his thumb over your cheek, every waft of his familiar scent. And though there’s so much you want to say in response, all you can muster up is a nod of your head.

A flash of joy – or was it relief— passes through his eyes, though his serious expression doesn’t change. His thumb tugs your bottom lip from where it’s nestled between your teeth. Shallow breaths escape your lips as he leans his face closer to yours. Fingers resting on your chin, he tries to tug you closer to him. You let him.

The door to the bar banging open suddenly makes you look up. It’s a bunch of college kids, too drunk to even notice that Harry Styles is standing right in front of them. But it’s enough for you to push his hands off of you and take a step back.

“Can we go somewhere else?” he asks, not discouraged from the space you created, though he does seem to be aware of the company around you. “To talk?”

You consider the invitation for a moment.  You’d barely been resistant to his kiss in the middle of a very public place. In the privacy of one of your places, you didn’t stand a chance. And though it’s become more and more apparent with every touch that you long to feel him between your legs again, you know you need to talk more.

But if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that you’re no match for the soft gaze of his eyes.

“Ok,” you say softly and the smile that stretches across his face sets off a fire in your belly. He reaches forward to take your hands and give them a light squeeze. “I’ve got to say goodbye, though.”

Harry nods vigorously. “That’s fine. Talk to your friend. I’ve got to go make the rounds before I leave anyway,” he admits. Your heart, so high now from the proximity to him, nearly sinks right down to your toes when you recall one specific person he has to make the rounds with.

Unaware of your hesitance, he moves to let go of your hands but you tug him back.  “What about that girl?” His eyebrows scrunch in confusion and you’re tongue burns as you clarify. “That you’re all over the blogs with. The one that’s been hanging off the end of the table all night.” You look away from him as soon as the words leave your mouth, feeling like a child that was about to be scolded.

His reaction lacks frustration, and to your surprise, has more amusement to it. “The tall blonde? She’s just my new image consultant.” A relieved puff of air escapes your body and a smile attaches to your face as a similar one reemerges across his. “So you’ll meet me at my place?”

Your bottom lip is back between your teeth in contemplation but it only lasts a moment before you nod your head again to confirm. His smile spreads wider and on impulse he moves in to kiss your cheek. It’s quick but enough to send a spark through your body.

“See you there.” And then he was off, back into the bar, leaving you outside with your head spinning.

—

It takes a while to get your friend to pay attention long enough to understand what you’re talking about. Once she manages to pull herself away from making eyes at the bartender, she hands you back your phone (finally), insisting that she was fine.  

The drive down the familiar roads is quick and instinctive, like you still traveled them every day. It takes no time at all to get to Harry’s. Working up the courage to get you to the door takes a bit longer.

You stand outside with a fist hovering over the door, hesitant to knock. If you left now, you could avoid any heartbreak that waited on the other side of the door. Just because he’d promised to fix things didn’t mean that they would actually work out this time. And the thought of losing him twice makes your stomach sink. But all your fears aside, you know not going in would do more harm than good.

Knocking on the door doesn’t seem right, so you lower your hand to the knob, choosing to let yourself in. The sight of his place sets your heart racing in your chest. You’d assumed he’d switch things up a bit, take the touches you’d added back down at the very least. But he didn’t. Everything down to the photos of the two of you is exactly where you left it.

“Love?” Harry calls out. “’S tha’ you?” The sound of his voice snaps you back to why you’re here in the first place.

He’s sitting on the bed when you finally make your way to his room. His shirt is unbuttoned a bit more than before and his shoes are strewn haphazardly across the floor. He bites his lip when he sees you in the doorway, the same look in his eyes from when he’d first seen you tonight.

“Took a while,” he comments. “Was afraid yeh weren’ coming.” And you swear he’s a bit bashful. You’d seen him be many things over the course of your relationship – vulnerable, needy, a tiny bit jealous – but you’d never seen him lose his charm, not even a little.

“I almost didn’t,” you admit.

He stands up closing the space between the two of you. “Glad yeh did,” he says. You hold your breath as his long frame strides closer to you but you deflate when halfway there he turns to his dresser.

“Been meaning to call yeh,” he says as he rummages through the drawers. It isn’t what you expected but you follow him to the open drawer anyway. “Left this behind ages ago.” You recognize the shirt he pulls out immediately, wondering how you’d hadn’t noticed its absence at all in the last few months.

It’s impossible not to remember first and only time you’d worn the shirt. Before the break up, it had been a part of an outfit worn on a night out with your friends. Although, tried to wear the shirt out with your friends might be more of an accurate statement because you’d barely made it passed the kitchen before Harry was desperately trying to tear it off of you.

“Look so good, love,” he’d whispered into your ear as he hastily tugged on the straps. “Always so good.” And he’d hiked your skirt up, pressed your underwear aside, and taken you right there on the counter, girls’ night be damned.

The memory makes your cheeks burn, especially considering it had happened not too far from where you’re standing right now. It’s obvious he’s thinking of it too because he has that mischievous smirk played across his lips as his fingers stroke the fabric thoughtfully.

“Remember when…”

Your heart rate spikes and you reply before he even finishes, “Yeah.” A blush rushes over your face when you realize the damp heat spreading between your legs at the memory.

“Here.” His voice is barely perceptible at this point, reaching the shirt out for you to take. Electricity rockets through your body when you take it and your fingers brush his. You feel like a teenager standing close to their crush with the way your eyes are unable to move from lips that had so desperately pressed kisses into your skin in the memory recalled from the fabric in your hands.

His gaze is just as intense on you, looking in the way you always loved, when his hand reaches out to grab yours, using it to pull you to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs quietly. And though he’d just handed it to you, Harry reaches to slide the shirt from your hand to place back on his dresser. The hand holding yours slides to your waist once you’re close enough and his other grips behind your neck. Every bone in your body is screaming that you just came to talk but you can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart.

Gentle pressure against your back brings you to him and his thumb presses into your cheek. The butterflies swirling in your tummy apparently are contagious because he hesitates for a moment when his lips hover just above yours. Back at the bar, he’d been more than ready but between the time it took you both to get here, he seems to have lost his nerve.

He’s mere millimeters away from a much anticipated kiss but instead he brushes his nose lightly against yours. You tug involuntarily on him with your hands at his waist, unable to wait anymore and the subtle motivation from you kick starts him again.

His lips twitch above yours, hesitating before pressing a firm kiss to yours. With his bottom lip tucked into between yours and the way your bodies form together, it’s like nothing had changed. Both his hands grip at your waist, digging into the material of your dress so forcefully you swear they could rip right through. The fabric of his shirt is smooth beneath your hands as you slide them up to wrap around his neck. A gentle tug encourages him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with ease.

His taste on your tongue overwhelms you, both familiar and foreign at the same time. Everything that you’d been too afraid to say out loud radiates through your body as you press into his to kiss him as deeply as possible. You hope it’s enough to convey words that had been left unspoken for months.

Kisses that start out soft and gentle turn to hungry and needy, tongues battling to rediscover more of the other first. His lips move across your cheek to your jaw then your neck in burning kisses that leave a fire wherever they land. The sudden intensity makes your stomach swirl with a hunger for him and your mind is cautious to where it’s leading.

You press a hand to his chest to push him back in an attempt to catch your breath. “I thought you wanted to talk,” you whisper quietly and the words are barely out of your mouth before he’s pulling you back in for another kiss.

“Can talk later,” he murmurs and its obvious chatting isn’t all he’s desperate to catch up on. You can’t blame him since you don’t protest when he runs his hand down to rest at the lowest point of your back. You know you very well could protest, push back against him, insist on really talking first, and he would stop. But he’s got his hands all over your body for the first time in months and the thought of where else they’d be soon is enough to push everything else out of your mind.

You trip over his feet when he moves backward in the direction of the bed and despite the intense atmosphere, he can’t help but chuckle at your clumsiness.  His thumbs rub against your cheek affectionately as he searches your face. “Don’ have t’do anything yeh don’t wan’ to,” he murmurs close to your lips. It’s a sweet sentiment, him making it clear he’s not pressuring you, but there’s no way you could stop now even if you wanted to.

You hope your eager kiss is enough of a reassurance to him, paired with quick fingers that work to undo the few buttons his shirt has still got left. When the fabric swings open, it’s impossible for you to not reach out and touch his skin. You take your time as you trace every familiar inch of the tattoos covering him, from the intricate pattern of the butterfly all the way down to the ferns, brushing lightly at the tufts of hair that lead somewhere lower.

He stutters at the feeling of your hand dipping dangerously close to where he’s beginning to strain against his pants. “Tell me what yeh wan’,” he breathes out against your lips.

You’re toying with the cool metal of his belt when you respond a soft, “You.” At your confession, he pulls your chin up to face him, almost as if he can’t stop himself, and he presses a slow kiss to your lips that knocks the breath out of you.

Your fingers are fumbling with his belt buckle and the two of you break apart only to give you a chance to undo his belt. A loud clink greets you when you finally pull it open but you’re not as successful undoing the rest of his jeans. The anticipation of the moment makes your hands clumsy and looping his button back through its hole is proving difficult for your shaky fingers.

“’S ok, love. Go on,” he encourages. His warm fingers come to steady yours and aid in sliding the zipper down. The sharp hissing sound sends a spark of motivation back through you and you’re ansty to get him undressed. When you eagerly press him to sit down on the edge of the bed he falls back without question and watches as you kneel down between his open legs. Your heart races as fingers dig into the band of his jeans to tug them down. How long had you wished to be right in this position? How often had you hoped you were still the only girl he let see him like this? And here you are, yanking his underwear down his legs haphazardly in your haste to get them off.

He springs from the confines of the fabric, hitting against his belly. He’s already thick when you reach out to stroke up the length of him and you relish the familiar weight of him in your hand. He feels full against your palm, just as you remember, and your stomach dips when you realize you’re about to find if he still feels the same on your tongue.

With that thought in mind, your tongue darts out to lick up his length without much of a preamble. You’re pleased to find the fullness of him inside your mouth is just as you remember it and you can’t help but let your lips close around his tip to suck gently. A groan escapes him at the sudden warmth of your mouth on him and your eyes flick up to his as you open your mouth to slide down on his cock. He watches as your head starts to bob up and down, tongue flattening out as you go.

“Missed having m’ cock in your mouth,” he mumbles, hands tangling in your hair. You can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement but you moan against him regardless.

He tastes the same as you remember and you can’t stop yourself from hungrily devouring him. Your mouth chases your hand as it twists up and down on his length, eliciting little puffs of air and soft moans from him. His hips stutter and his hands press deep into the mattress to support him when you open your throat to take all of him in your mouth. “Bloody…” he trails off when his tip brushes the back of your throat and you gag a bit. You repeat the action a few times, swallowing him whole, fingernails digging into the skin of thigh.  

When you pop back off for some air, you can’t help but smile at him with swollen lips when you see the mesmerized look in his eyes. “Fuck, love,” he whispers. “Missed this so fucking much.” His thumb strokes your cheek warmly, the rest of his fingers massaging the nape of your neck. The sight of him slightly sweaty, chest heaving, is familiar and you too missed the thought that you’re the only one that can get him this way. You stroke up and down him while you give your mouth a break and watch his slick tip disappear into your palm and reappear as you slide back down. His tip is leaking now, the sticky liquid getting on your fingers and making them move easier on him.

You’re hit with the overwhelming urge to taste it on your tongue and as soon as you lean down to tongue at his slit, his heady taste overwhelming your senses. The moan that flows out of your mouth earns a similar one from his. Stray hairs fall into your face and he reaches up to brush them away for you, balling your hair up in his hand while you continue to lull your tongue around his head. A suck harsh causes him to tug on you, desperately trying to pull you off of him.

“Love, please,” he pleads when you continue to suckle on his tip. “M’not gonna last if yeh keep at that.”

You feel greedy. One taste of him and you want to take him over the edge with your tongue, feel the weight of his thick ropes spurting down your throat. But you know that’s not what he wants right now so you allow him to gently pull you off of him.

The second your mouth leaves him, he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. The taste of him on your tongue doesn’t deter him from the quick succession of kisses he gives you while tugging at your dress. “Why s’this still on?” he questions, hands bunching up the fabric at the bottom. “Take i’ off.”  You lift off your knees and spin around, pushing your hair to one side.

With a look over your shoulder, you ask, “Unzip me?” He’s eager to oblige, rising from his seat quickly. Hands skim your waist as they make their way up to the top of the zipper that runs along the back of the dress. His breath fans over your shoulder and he leans down to press a kiss to the skin there. As skilled fingers pinch the zipper to pull it down, you shudder at the trail of sloppy, uneven kisses he leaves across your shoulder and the base of your neck.

Even though his skin is smooth and soft running down your arms as he removes the straps, it doesn’t replace the empty feeling he leaves where they were on your waist. You feel like a brat, wanting him to be everywhere at once but at the moment, you’re craving his touch any and everywhere you can get it.  

Your heels come off when you step out of the dress, leaving you in just the flimsy lace underwear you’d worn underneath. His fingers dance down your body, exploring the newly exposed skin, and your skin tingles as they drop closer and closer to your pulsing center. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to slide inside the band of your underwear, the pressure of his hand pushing you back flush against his chest. He finds your soft nub, aching to be touched, and an involuntary moan radiates from you. His lips are back on your neck, sucking harshly as his fingers work slowly against your clit.

You want to scream, cry, anything, from the feeling of him teasing you so agonizingly and your fingers dig into the hand of his that’s resting on your stomach. The way your nails dig into his skin must pinch but he doesn’t react, just breathes heavily in your ear, mesmerized by the way you’re already falling apart in his arms.

When you finally can’t take it anymore, you turn around to find his mouth for a heated kiss. Moving back towards the bed, he steps out of his pants completely. His hands only leave your body when you yank his unbuttoned shirt down his arms to discard on the floor.

He falls back onto the bed, pulling you with him. Your legs land on either side of his and instantly, your hips grind down against his uncovered erection. With the only barrier between you the delicate material of your underwear, you revel in the rush of his skin directly pressed to yours. His hand comes to the nape of your neck to tug you in for a kiss that he uses as an opportunity to flip you onto your back.

In the new position, you miss the contact that grinding down on him granted you but he doesn’t leave you hanging for long. His lips drag down your jaw, dancing around the sensitive skin on your neck before nipping at your exposed nipple. His reward is the soft moan the escapes you and he repeats the action. While his mouth pays attention to your chest, his hand is back down at your center, rubbing over the cloth covering it.

The dampness of the fabric is evident and his eyes peer down at it. “You’re s’wet, angel,” he says, continuing the gentle circles that are starting to make your breathing uneven. “’S that…for me? Still for me?”

You moan as he puts more pressure on your clit through your underwear. “Barely even touched yeh,” he comments, body shifting to lie between your legs. His nose nuzzles your sensitive bud almost lovingly. “Wanna taste yeh so badly. Can I?”

“God, yes,” and you’re practically begging as he’s tugging your underwear down past your feet. Your legs spread with his help and his hands hold them open.

He’s taking a second to admire, a soft, “Look at yeh,” escaping his lips. His cheek is resting on your thigh, while his fingers stroke your slippery folds, feeling the wetness without any barrier. They run up and down your slit slowly and your body flushes with anticipation when his breath fans out across you. You know he’s just trying to reacquaint himself your body but his mouth is so close to where you need him and you’re getting impatient.

He wants to chuckle at the slight bucking of your hips but he doesn’t. With a gentle kiss to the plushy flesh of your thigh and eyes that peer up at you, he puts you out of your misery and licks a firm stroke up your slit. The feeling of his tongue finally on you sends goosebumps over your skin and you lose eye contact as your eyes slide closed.

He’s quick to make it to your clit, tongue working a steady rhythm against it while in an attempt to settle your jolting hips, his hands snake under your thighs to rest at your stomach. They’re strong and hold you in place and you reach down to tangle your fingers in them.

His tongue is moving in short, quick flits against your clit and though you’re squirming above him, he’s relentless. Your hands are grasping for anything they can get a hold of – the sheets, the pillow, his curly head between your legs. He doesn’t let up though, lapping his tongue in ways he knows still make your legs squeeze closed around him.

His hands are everywhere too. On your stomach, giving your hand a squeeze, palming your breast, gripping your thighs as if his life depends on it. You’re certain he’s going to suffocate down there with the way he’s diving in, his full face immersed in your wet heat and he’s looking up at you now, slowing down to give you long, slow licks that drive you crazy in a completely different way.

You’re starting to feel the slow burn in your stomach when his middle finger slides into you easily with how slick you are. He leans back, letting his digit slide all the way in, pressing repeatedly on that spot deep inside of you. Your back arches, your head digging back into the pillow and you can’t tell because you’re eyes are screwed shut but you bet he’s got that smirk on his face, soaking up every second of what he’s doing to you.

“Just like that,” you breathe out, even though you know he’s got no intention of stopping what he’s doing. Your chest is heaving with uneven breaths and if you weren’t so caught up in how good it felt, you’d be almost annoyed that he could still get you worked up with just one finger.

You can tell he’s thinking it too because he’s not doing much now, just pumping his finger into you and admiring the way your body’s reacting to him. His eyes are glued to you, watching every desperate clutch of the sheets and breathy moan of his name. The pressure in your tummy is growing and he’s starting to sense it too. “Harry I’m…” you trail off and he smirks, knowing exactly what you’re trying to finish.

“Yeh about to come, pet?” he murmurs, the hand not inside of you pressing back against your thigh as it begs to close. “Can yeh get there? Fo’ me? It’s been s’long. Want to watch you come.”

All you can do is nod because he’s added an extra finger that stretches you out just a bit. In an attempt to coax your finish closer, he attaches his lips back to your clit, sucking the bud firmly between his lips. The combination of his nimble fingers inside of you and his skilled mouth working your most sensitive nerves sends you over the edge quickly, chest panting and walls clenching down around him.

“Tha’s m’girl,” he murmurs. “Yeh are, aren’t yeh? Still mine?”

“Always been,” you mumble on instinct, still coming down from your high. At the moment, you would’ve agreed to anything he said but you do mean this. It didn’t matter how long you were apart from him. You’d always be his, and him yours.

He gives a smile before pressing a kiss into your thigh. Your hand is at the nape of his neck, desperate to tug on it to bring him back up to you, but the gentle trail of mouth up the slope of your body feels too good to stop. His lips plant kiss after kiss along the smooth skin of your stomach, taking his time to work up to your chest and the hollow of your collar bone.

It seems he’s never done in his mission to relearn as much of you as he can. You can’t be sure but it feels like he’s covered every square inch of your body. If you’re being honest, he could kiss everywhere ten times over and it still wouldn’t be enough for you.

As he moves up the slope of your body, his heavy length makes itself known when it brushes up against your thigh. His mouth finally finds yours again and between the slow, languid pace his tongue is keeping and the weight of him against your leg, your cunt aches for him inside of you.

Harry’s just as needy, rutting against your thigh and letting the sticky substance of the precome still leaking out of his tip help him glide across your skin. His moans reverberate in your body, his chest rumbling against yours.

He’s so close, so ready to be inside of you that you can practically feel him already but instead of giving you want you both so desperately need, he suddenly jerks away. A whine escapes when he lifts off of you, mumbling, “Gotta get a condom.” He’s rummaging around in his drawer and you stop yourself from wondering if any of them had been used in the last few months.

Tugging on his arm, you dissuade him, promising him you’re protected. “Don’t need it,” you moan, feeling his hand still in the drawer. “I took my pill. Promise.” The drawer remains open but he’s pulling back towards the bed again. His eyes search your face, deciphering what you’re really trying to tell him. “Haven’t been with anyone else, prom—”

Your reassurance is cut off with his mouth hotly pressing to yours. His body exudes relief when he sighs against your mouth. “Me either, love,” he promises. His thumb reaches out to stroke your cheek and his eyes are looking at you so intently you want to squirm. “Jus’ wanted you.”

Your heart swells at his admission that he had in fact not slept with any of the girls that tabloids had been so certain he had. He really was yours, no matter the circumstances.

Overcome with emotion and a sudden neediness for him, your hand reaches down to stroke his length. “Wan’ my cock, love?” he murmurs. You nod your head eagerly, lip pulled between your teeth. “Go on, then. Get what yeh wan’.” And his green light is all you need to bring him to your soaking entrance. He slides in easily, just as his fingers had, and the stretch you feel makes you bite your lip. It’s been a while since you felt the thickness of Harry inside of you and though it’s a feeling you’d never forget, it still is something to get used to.

His thrusts inside of you at first are slow while your walls adjust to the delicious stretch that his cock provides. You can tell he’s working hard to control himself, the pace so slow and deliberate, lip bit in concentration. Beads of sweat are already broken out against his hairline as he works hard to keep his thrusts even and controlled.

Your fingers are pinching half-moons in his biceps, legs hooking over his. “Faster,” you plead, quietly, knowing he’s desperate to drive into you and hit deep inside of you and you realize you are too. As his speed picks up, his face gets nestled in your neck, hot breath puffing out against your skin. His chest is pressing hard into yours, and it’s a bit uncomfortable the way your breasts are being squished, but you revel in the heavy feel of his body resting on yours.

The bed shakes with the vigor of his thrusting, knocking back against the wall in a rhythmic pattern. Your head leans back against the pillow as your body arches into him. He takes advantage of your position and sucks a mark into your neck. You aren’t his to mark anymore –or are you?—but you let him anyway. The harshness of his lips is soothed by a flick of his tongue and then he’s moving down to kiss your shoulder and your collar bone.

His hips slow as he presses deep inside of you, opting for small, pulsing thrusts that press exactly the spot that gets you panting and digging your nails into his back. Your stomach coils when you feel the brush of his tongue against your earlobe before he nips at it.

With his face buried in your neck, your lips are equal with his shoulder, pressing out kisses and tiny nicks when he hits you particularly deep. He surrounds you, not one part of your body not completely enveloped in his and the smell of his skin, now sticky with sweat, is intoxicating. You’re overwhelmed with how every one of your senses takes him in.

He’s thrusting fully now, pulling in and out so he can slide the entire length of him in and out of you. Your groan of pleasure is immediately followed by one of pain when his shoulder accidentally nudges you in the eye.

“Wha’?” he asks when you press back against his body.

You’re rubbing your eye when you respond, “Poked my eye with your shoulder.”

He pauses for a second, pressing kisses to your eye. “’M sorry,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, then your nose and any other area his shoulder could’ve offended. “Didn’ mean to.”

You assure him you’re fine, it’s fine, everything is fine and he should keep going but he still leans back to create some space. One of your legs is lifted, granting him a new angle that almost makes up for the loss of contact.

This position gives him more of a brace as he holds onto your leg and really pushes into you. He’s grabbing you by the nape of the neck, foreheads pressed together while he unceasingly pumps in and out of you. You try to hold his gaze but he seems incapable of stopping from his eyes sliding closed in pleasure, mouth hanging open though no sounds come out. And though he’s so relentless that your eyes almost want to slide shut as well, you keep them trained on the sight in front of you. Nothing was better than the fucked out look on his face as he drives into you and the knowledge that you’re the one that makes him feel that good.

You know he’s close by the way he picks up his pace, thrusts coming uneven as his fingers dig into your leg. “Kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges placing a sloppy kiss to lips as he grips your face. Personally, you don’t know if you have another orgasm in you but then you feel the rough pads of his fingers rubbing against your clit to get you there again.

It isn’t long before you’re running your hand up the nape of his neck to tug at the hairs there as your climax washes over you. He only thrusts a few more times after your walls squeezing down on him enough to coax his finish as well. His thick spurts land inside of you, though you’re not concern because you really are diligent about taking your pill.

His body collapses down to yours, face finding its way back to the crook of your neck. The two of you lie with sweaty bodies panting against each other for a while. Your fingers dance along his back, drawing patterns and shapes against the skin, smoothing over the marks and scratches your nails had etched. They then make their way up to his hair, scratching the scalp gently in the way he’d always liked. You figure there’s a fair chance he’s already fallen asleep because, as you remember, nothing puts him out quite like back drawings and head scratches but eventually he does move off of you. His body lands next to yours, chest heaving significantly less than a few minutes ago.

He looks over at you, an unreadable look in his eyes, and you know he’s looking to talk finally. Instead, a smirk spreads across his face as he pulls you to nestle on his chest. “Now, what did I tell you about reading those bloody gossip sites?”

[ambootyos]

Club Confusion Pt. 11

Part 10 

Word Count: 1,453

Tags: @dorkyvillain @wrestlingnoob @reigns420 @laziestgirlintheworld @thegenericluchadora @alexahood21 @villainsqueendom @bolieve-that @kingslayers-angel @cynda-wrasslin @phenomenal-forearm @vipervenomisgoodforyou @i-ship-it-okay @karleedaniels27 @rebelfleur22

“And..that was it, She left after she told me. I can’t stop hearing those words in my head.”

Marty explained to Matt and Nick, after Adam had left their hotel room earlier that day.

The brothers reacted to the news quite differently. Nick just rolled his eyes as he changed his bed sheets, he barely got any sleep, and was still in a sour mood.

Matt was overly invested. His mouth fell ajar, and he furrowed his brows, as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You..didn’t ask her to stay?”

Marty rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “No..I can’t do that Matt.”

“Well, please tell me you guys at least had sex in the car?” He replied.

Marty shook his head. “No Matt. We didn’t.” He replied, as he rolled his eyes. Then, a slight smile grew on his face.

“But you know what? I’m okay actually. As weird as it sounds, I am. It’s a bittersweet thing.” He explained.

Nick rubbed his eyes, and plopped down on Matt’s bed, still exhausted. “Oh yay! Thank goodness you’re great. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t. Seriously, it’s my biggest freaking concern.” He growled sarcastically.

Marty furrowed his brows, and Matt rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him. But there’s no way you’re okay.”

Marty shrugged slightly.  “I know I shouldn’t be but..she told me she loved me. It’s hard to be upset about anything else. She loves me…” He trailed off, as his smile grew.

“Yeah, she finally admitted how much she loved you, and you just let her leave. For literally freaking forever.” Matt explained, with that signature Matt Jackson look. (A/N: You know what I’m talking about.)

Marty cleared his throat. “Yes, I know. But, how things ended between us? I mean, I couldn’t ‘av asked for a better goodbye. Plus..I am the last person she slept with before leaving. So..” He trailed off.

Matt pursed his lips together, and looked at the ground, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Nick burst out laughing. “Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately you’re wrong about that!” He exclaimed, not even thinking about it.

Marty’s face dropped. “Wait..what?”

Matt let out a sigh, and explained what Nick was going on about.

Marty cleared his throat. “I..um..That’s not the point okay? They always say, if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

Matt let out a sigh, and nodded slightly.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t just fall into place. One of you, actually has to try.” He explained.

Marty nodded. “I know. I just have to wait for her to do something about it. Right?” Matt cleared his throat.

“Mhmm..and what if she’s thinking the same way you are?”

I’d just gotten settled in. I had a loft near the performance center, I’d bought it when I was younger, so that I had a place to stay while traveling, besides a hotel.

It felt so empty. Last time I was here, Adam was staying with me, that all felt like forever ago.

I couldn’t get him or Marty out of my head.

I wonder if telling Marty how I felt was a good idea, I don’t know what I expected. I guess part of me wished he was here. More than one part of me maybe.

I texted Matt to let him know where I was. Hopefully he could tell the rest of them. I’d have called, but I just wanted to get some sleep. I didn’t have to start working until next week, so I just wanted to catch up on sleep.

As soon as my head hit my pillow, I was out like a light.

Matt read my message and smiled, as Marty rambled on about how he’d made a mistake.

He stood to his feet, and placed his hand on Marty’s shoulder. “Marty, shh. You feel like doing something stupid?”

Marty smiled, and Nick groaned. “Please tell me I don’t have to go..”

Matt rolled his eyes and chuckled at his younger brother.

“Nah, you can stay here. He’s gonna do this alone.”

I’d like to say I slept great, or even okay. But I didn’t. Me and Marty’s last conversation just kept replaying in my head. And anytime I did fall asleep, I was interrupted by dreams.

When I woke up the last time, I checked my clock.

5am.

I let out a sigh, and left my bedroom, as soon as I did I heard a knock on my door. I furrowed my brows. I’d only been here for about a day and a half. I rubbed my eyes before answering the door.

My mouth fell ajar when I saw who it was, it was Marty, he looked beyond nervous, but I’m sure I did too.

“Um..hey.” I smiled.

He smiled. “Hey..”

There were a few seconds of silence, where we just looked at each other, with smiles plastered on our faces.

“You wanna come insid-” He cut me off, by crashing his lips into mine, and cupping my face. It took me by surprise, he apologized when he pulled away.

I shook my head and my smile grew. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

He shut the door behind him.

“I guess you’re probably wondering why I’m here?” He asked, as he slid his hands in the pockets of his sweats. I sat on the arm of my couch, and shook my head.

“Should I be wondering? Excuse me if this seems self absorbed, but I’m pretty sure I can guess why you’re here.” I smiled.

He chuckled, and walked closer towards me. “Yes, I suppose that could you probably guess at least one reason.”

I raised an eyebrow. “There’s more than one?”

He smirked. “Yes Love, there is.”

He cupped my face again, and I breathed a laugh as I cocked my head, and ran my hands down his torso, to ‘smooth out his shirt’ “And that would be?” I asked as I rested my hands on his waist.

He bit his bottom lip. “You slept with Adam before you left, correct?”

I cleared my throat, and my eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“I do. Nick isn’t great at keeping secrets.” He replied as he dropped his hands at his side.

Actually, Matt was the only one that knew. So, technically Matt was the one that wasn’t good at keeping secrets, considering he’s probably the one that told Nick. But I wasn’t gonna argue that fact now.

“Are you..upset?” I asked nervously, as I began to remove my hands from his waist, but he stopped me and shook his head.

“Of course not Love, break up sex is normal, some may even argue that it’s the best kind. However..I disagree.” He started with a smirk. “In my own opinion, it’s ‘I’ve just been on a plane for hours, and showed up at your doorstep to tell you I wanna try and make this work’ sex. But hey..that’s just me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, as I looked up at him.

“Hmm, I’ve never had that..” I stated sarcastically.

“Hmm..let’s change that.” He smiled, as he wrapped his arms around my body, and we fell back on the couch.

He smiled, as I wrapped my legs around his body like I’d done before.

It’s been a year since then. And we’re still together, I’m leaving NXT soon and heading to the main roster, at the moment Marty’s with The Bucks at ROH.

I’m catching up with some old friends at a bar, the night before I’m supposed to find out where I’m going.

“So..you aren’t with Adam anymore?” AJ Styles asked, after I tried to explain what I’d been up to all this time.

Finn chuckled softly. “Just ‘ow many times does she ‘av ta tell you?” He asked.

AJ chuckled, and threw his hands up in defense. “Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just I thought you two were one of those ‘forever’ types.” He replied.

I shrugged, and pursed my lips together. “Guess not.” Finn rolled his eyes, and patted me on the shoulder.

“Don’t pay attention tah him. He’s ‘ad way too much tah drink.” He added, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

AJ rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Kevin Owens came over, and interrupted the conversation.

“Guess what?!” He exclaimed, his speech a bit slurred, as he looked at his phone. Before any of us could even ask, he told us.

“My boy just signed with NXT! Adam’s coming to WWE!” He exclaimed, taking another drink of his beer.

My eyes widened, just as things were starting to settle down for me.