#i listened to it like. a stupid number of times in 2020

[gaylightisminetocommand]

it's 2025 and the wizards intro still fuckin slaps.

[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ CHATBOX LOVE -> kenma kozume !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NEVER MET! by CMTEN , glitch gum

synopsis; in which kenma is sent into a spiral after seeing a familiar username cw: deff slight angst, discord type-love , usage of baby , erm exes trope , kenma crash out , unproofread + lowercase , implied f!reader but can be interpreted as gn!reader , idk if its ooc but prob eek,

"and even though it's been a week, i still think of your face"

already? wow, a week since you had ended things with kenma. to him, it felt like months. years, even, which was why he decided to stop counting the days.

so imagine his surprise when he had randomly matched up with you in roblox.

he swears it was you, had all the the same numbers in your user, all the same accessories in your avatar.

he just had to type in the chatbox, he didn't care how desperate he sounded, he wants you back:

kod5uken : [baby? baby thats u right? its kenma]

skibidi1234 : [uhhh no sorry dude idk you]

ah. and then skibidi1234 left, probably weirded out. damn it, he was hallucinating now. on top of that, he was stupid enough to say his real name online.

he left the game himself too, closing roblox in a rage. he wanted to sleep, but his puffy eyes and stuffy nose made it hard to do so.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

barbie : [kenma we need to talk ]

kennie : [what is it]

barbie : [lets break up]

kennie : [oh]

kennie : [okay]

barbie : [im sorry, i cant juggle you and studies]

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

that was the last he's heard from you because you've blocked him on everything. hell, you even blocked him on spotify. he should've listened when everyone told him e-dating was going to ruin him.

but how could he resist? he had fallen in love with you already. you were his perfect partner; games with him (somewhat bad, but you both managed), funny, attractive, his type. it's just unfortunate that you had to live miles away from him.

kenma's done sooo much impulsive things just for you: blew all his money on the latest 2-player game from steam so he could play with you, vc'ed until the latest hours of night just so he could keep talking to you, he even skipped some volleyball practices so he could come home earlier just to see you in a video chat.

ugh, he can't count all the times he's lost his dignity either. he had called you "his barbie" and he called himself ken. oh god, that was probably one of the cringiest things he's said in his life.

and don't even remind him about online karaoke, god knows how much screen records you have of his voice breaking mid-song.

speaking of records, he can't bear to delete all the adorable pictures you sent while updating him about your day. he's always liked seeing what weird and interesting things you've done. but worst of all, he's kept screenshots of every loving and tender message from you that had flustered him (spoiler alert: anything you said made his ears red.)

he opened the album he had moved the screenshots to, scrolling through it until his eyes settled on a certain one:

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

barbie : [baby u live in japan right?]

kennie : [mhm]

barbie : [nice]

barbie : [just wait, im gonna buy tickets to fly there soon]

kennie : [ur crazy]

barbie : [sure yes whatever... i luv u ken :P]

kennie : [i love you too]

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

oh, dear. he can feel tears running down his cheek again. yep, there it was. his recently cleared sinus was blocking up again. damn it, he thought, as he wrapped himself tighter in the sheet. he can't even enjoy playing his games anymore.

kenma still misses you, from the very day you left him. you were his perfect partner, even though you had heartlessly shattered his heart and he would probably never entrust someone with it.

you know what, he'll never respond to some random dm ever again.

unless it was from you, of course.

"it'd be better if we had just never met"

a/n: was a request from two of my dearest friends who suprisingly are kenma luvrs LOL hi guys @rahhhr @terrariumaura also this was a nod to his 2020-self ik this was so cliche and someone has probably done this but i hoped you like my own (short) spin on it guys do uu know the genius that thought of their chat names BECAUSE BECAUSE THE SONG GOES LIKE "REMEMBER WHEN I CALLED YOU MY BARBIE AND I WAS KEN" IT FITS SO WELL BECAUSE KEN-MA okay bye

[l7nns31deb109]

Any hcs about what kinds of humor/memes/jokes would lotr characters like in modern au?

AHHH OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!!

OKAY!! SO!!! Did the hobbits but if you’d like the rest of the fellowship just lmk! Ps. Sorry it took so long to answer!

Pippin

•LOVES brain rot memes

•unironically watched skidbi toilet once

•half of what comes out of his mouth is a TikTok reference

•^everyone gets so sick of him smh

•(this is niche but) loves judyhopslover69 on tiktok

•^will quote “AHH IM SHIFTING!”

•calls people ‘sigma’ and ‘alpha’

•owns a wolf shirt

•loves ironic tee shirts

^’I’m with stupid’ with an arrow pointing at his head

•loved the cursive singing trend

•talks about the rizzler and big aj

•”THAT GETS FIVE BIG BOOMS!”

Frodo

•dabbles in brain rot memes

•keeps up with TikTok lore

•^knows all the ash trevino and santos drama

•^will tell Sam about it

•weird sense of humor lowkey

•^ will laugh at a picture of cheese??

•used to be a dan and Phil stan

•has a secret account where he trolls people

•^ will send slightly ominous messages to people on it for shits and giggles, “he still loves you…” or “DONT trust her🐍”

•prank calls people with pip and merry, will steal bilbos flip phone to get the numbers

•^not meme related but, these three would choreograph dances/ performances to get sleepovers

•”mamma a girl behind YOU 💚”

•participated in brat summer

•^introduced the group the charli and yes okay they all love her

•stan twitter warrior

Sam

•doesn’t have tiktok and refuses to download it

•has a big Pinterest board with memes on it

•misses vine like a mofo

•^ favorite vine was the potato flew around my room one

•”what does this mean im employed”

•^ learnt this from scrolling on tiktok on Frodos phone

•LOVES emojis

•^often communicates solely by emojis

•ex: Frodo will text him a question and Sam will reply this, “🚫👎😓🫶🍄”, “why the mushroom??”, “It’s pretty. :) 🍄🍄🍄🍄”

•likes podcasts, listens to them while

gardening

•^him and merry def wanted to start one together

•likes niche memes

Merry

•tried to get a meme account popular on instagram

•had a minecraft YouTuber phase in 2020

•has a soundboard app downloaded and will use it

•loved icarly and Fred when he was younger

•quotes really cringy Stuff

•^”um he’s right behind me… isn’t he?”🤓

•loves commenting on tiktoks

•^gets into arguments with people on there

•him and Frodo (sometimes sam and pip) watch drag race together and send eachother memes abt it

•whenever one of them leave a room the other will definitely say “sashay away”

•^they put pippin in drag one time

•reposts cringey stoner memes

•him and pippin played FNAF when it first came out (pippin cried)

•him and pippin were literally at the tiktok rizz party so….

[rubberfuckey]

summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: This is set right after season three, let's pretend the time skip in the show doesn't exist (: This is my first post since 2020! Let me know what y'all think <3333 part two??? ;)

Eyes snapping open and with a rush of panic, you try to locate your piercingly loud phone tangled in the sheets somewhere next to you. Who the fuck would be calling me at whatever ungodly hour it is? Finally finding it, you damn near blind yourself with how bright it is and how unadjusted your eyes are. Squinting, too tired and agitated to read it, you swipe to answer the call like muscle memory. 

“Hello?” you huff.

“I’m sorry I know it’s late… but I have a favor to ask.”

“Wheeze? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Hearing her voice sits you straight up in your bed, she has never called this late or has ever asked of anything from you.

“I’m okay, kind of. I’m alive. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Wheezie-”

“I know,” she cuts you off, “nevermind it was stupid anyways.”

“No, Wheezie, talk to me.”

“It’s just, Rafe,” you flinch at hearing his name, “I’m scared. I’ve never seen him like this before. We know he’s already a pretty angry guy, but this is something different.”

You sit there quietly listening. You left Kildare a year ago, after a nasty breakup with Rafe and trying to break apart the unhealthy codependency you both developed. You transferred to a different state college but you always stayed in touch with Wheezie. Before you and Rafe went wrong, you were close with both his sisters and promised to stay in contact with the young girl you watched grow throughout your time with Rafe. No one knew of course, you and Rafe were completely no contact- opting to block his number after one too many heartwrenching voicemails while obviously under the influence of his favorite white powder. 

Sarah hadn’t tried to reach out, but from what Wheeze had mentioned she got herself distracted with a pogue-turned cop killer-who was proved innocent. What a shit show. You knew it all, countless Facetime calls caught you up to speed. You consoled her through the “death” of Sarah, the “death” of her father and what other trauma presented itself. Sometimes it was too much being constantly reminded of your ex, whom you still loved very deeply, but being there for this poor girl trumped how it made you feel. The feeling went both ways, she stopped you from coming back to the island quite a few times when she told you just how bad things have gotten, insisting that she would be okay, when in reality she really just needed a hug from her honorary sister. He was never brought up, you didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. Something in your gut told you it’s just better if you don’t know what had been going on with him. You appreciated her respecting that boundary. 

“The club is hosting some kind of party in Ward’s honor tomorrow. It’s weird, he was supposed to be dead months ago and the island is just now doing something in memory of him. Probably Rose organized it or something, who knows. Anyways,” she stopped and took in a deep breath, “Rose wants us all to be there and speak about him in front of everyone. I went to ask Rafe what he planned on saying to hopefully find some inspiration but he just went on and on about how ‘the pogues killed him on purpose’ and how ‘they have another thing coming to them if they think they’re just going to get away with it’. I’ve seen him mad before, I’ve watched him punch holes through the walls, scream, yell, and cry. But this…” she trails off, inhaling deeply after her fast paced rant. 

You sigh, not knowing what to say, “Give me some time to get a bag packed and get on the road, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t bother you with his dramatics if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, I’m glad you told me. I’ll be there soon, just keep working on what you want to say. I’ll help you brainstorm tomorrow while I’m driving if you need me to.”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re seriously the best.”

“Keep your head up Wheeze, get some rest and maybe steer clear of your brother for a little bit.”

After hanging up, you sigh and stare up at your ceiling. Shit.

-

The drive back to the OBX gave you time to think, what would you actually be walking back into? Was his grief manifesting itself into the kind of anger and violence that could be fatal to anyone he saw at fault? You shuddered at the thought. Pulling in to your parent’s driveway, you sent a text to Wheezie telling her you just got in and you’ll meet her at the country club. You could name about a thousand and one places you would rather be than under the same roof as Rafe Cameron for the first time in over a year, but you wanted to pay your respects and be there to support the people that had turned into your bonus family during your 2 year relationship with Rafe. 

“You ready honey?” your mom asks as you slip on your shoes to match the black dress you had chose. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

The car ride was quiet, your anxiety was palpable as you bit your nails down and bounced your leg uncontrollably. Walking in the familiar doors, all you saw was the looks on people’s faces as they realized you were back on the island and here no less. Pretty much everyone knew who you were, your family’s status not much different from the Cameron’s themselves. You were known as the sweet girl from the affluent family who smiled politely at everyone who looked in your direction and would never hurt a fly. Rafe’s reputation was quite the opposite. When you and Rafe had made your first entrance together at Midsummers at the age of 17, it was the talk of the island. Ignoring the stares and whispers, you held your head high and looked for Wheezie.

Standing next to a huge photo of Ward leant against an easel stood Rafe, watered down whiskey in hand as he blankly looked around at the people in the room. If one more person awkwardly gave him a tight lipped look of sympathy, he was going to lose it. He heard people murmuring and the looks in his direction seemed to increase. Shaking off the feeling like everyone knew something he didn’t, he downed his drink and made his way over to get another. Sofia caught him before he reached the bar and assumed her position under his arm. 

“Maybe slow down on the whiskey?” She meant well, but damn did he need another drink. Looking at her blankly, he kept moving towards the bartender. His father was dead, who gives a fuck how much alcohol his grieving son intakes. Kelce walks into the room from the hallway, looking around frantically, catching sight of Rafe as  he beelines toward him, out of breath. 

“Yo, Rafe, Y/N is here.” 

Rafe nearly chokes on his drink as he looks at Kelce with an unreadable expression, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Y/N, I just saw her walking in with my own two eyes bro.” 

He sets his glass back down and suddenly Sofia was right all along, he needs to slow down on the whiskey if you were really here. He thinks back to the last time he saw you, all the screaming and crying and pleading with you not to leave. Even with the past year's events, he puts losing you at the top of the list of the most painful things he’s ever been through. He understands why you left and couldn’t blame you, but damn did he miss you like you were the air he needed to breathe. You walked in, obviously looking for something or someone as he watched your eyes scan the room until they caught his. He immediately felt nauseous. I’m going to puke, you thought.

part two

[lemoncrushh]

Friends Don't

Summary: Harry and Gabriella have been good friends for a few years. But neither of them knows the feelings the other has.

Warnings: Just some smut at the end. 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: Inspired by the song by Maddie & Tae. Real Harry x OC. Written in first person. Originally posted in 2020.

"Gabs..." I faintly heard in the distance as thick strands of sleep threatened to pull from my heavy eyelids. I thought I was still dreaming, so I rolled over, hoping to continue the fantastic scenario I was already starting to forget.

"Gabby," I heard again, much clearer this time, and I knew I was no longer on the red carpet next to my new BFFs Lizzo and Alexa Chung.

A hand tapped me on my shoulder, and with a groan, I lifted my comforter over my head, hoping to return to flashing lights and high heels, but for which event I was unsure.

"GABRIELLA!" the determined voice shouted, pulling the covers from my grip and forcing me to blink several times.

"What the fuck?" I pouted, finally realizing the light was not from cameras but from my roommate's cell phone.

"God, you sleep like the dead!" exclaimed Angie. "I can't believe you can't hear your phone."

"I have it on vibrate," I muttered sleepily, my eyes still mere slits as I tried to reach for my cell on my nightstand.

"So, I can hear it from the bathroom!" my roommate continued. "It's been going off for like the last fucking hour! Somebody's obviously trying to get a hold of you."

"You've been in the bathroom for an hour?" I asked smugly, knowing she had been exaggerating in typical Angie fashion. I didn't need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes.

"Oh!" I sounded when I inspected the screen. "It's Harry!"

With a huff, Angie crossed her arms. "Doesn't he know some people sleep at night?"

"He's in London," I told her. "It's already morning there."

"Even worse," she spat. "He's famous but still doesn't know about time differences."

"Shh," I waved her off as I tried to listen to the voicemail Harry had left. With another look of disgust, Angie turned for the bathroom that separated our rooms.

"G'night, Gabs. Tell your boyfriend to get a watch," I heard her say before shutting the door behind her.

Shaking my head, I caught the tail end of Harry's message, then played it back once more.

"Gabs, it's me!" he greeted, sounding chipper. I sometimes hated him for his effortless ability to be pleasant before 10AM. "I just...wanted to talk to you. You're probably asleep, sorry. Sometimes I forget. Give me a ring if you're still awake though. 'Bye."

Though that was the only voicemail he'd left, I had three missed calls from him, and two texts.

Hey! Are you there?

Call me when you get this.

Eager to hear what news Harry had to tell me, I pressed the screen to call his number. He answered after the first ring.

"There you are!" he announced.

"Here I am," I giggled, sitting up in bed. I wasn't sure why, but I always seemed to sit up when talking to Harry, like it was an important meeting. I suppose in a way, it was. Conversations with him, though usually light-hearted were some of my favorites, and I liked to give them my full attention.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No, Angie did," I jabbed. "To tell me my phone was ringing."

"Oh, shit," Harry groaned. "Sorry, love."

I laughed. "No worries. What's up?"

"Not much. 'm leaving for the airport soon."

"Oh!" I sounded. "I thought you were flying to LA tomorrow."

"Nope, today."

"Wait..." I shook my head. "It is tomorrow there."

I heard Harry's low chuckle as I mentally cursed my stupidity. Angie would be happy to know Harry was not the only one who had a lack of time zone knowledge.

"So what else?" I inquired. "Anything exciting?"

"No, not really."

"No?" I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Why'd you call?"

"I dunno..." Harry paused. "Just felt like saying hi."

"Oh," I felt my heart jump in my chest.

"I just missed you."

"Oh," I said just above a whisper. "I miss you too."

I heard Harry hum softly which only managed to send butterflies to my stomach.

Harry and I had been friends for a while. When I had only been living in LA for a little over a year, I had lucked out on getting invited to my first celebrity party through a friend of an acquaintance. Though I'd spent most of the evening ducking behind plants and drinking more than my share of vodka, I had managed to meet a handful of people, including Harry Styles and his One Direction bandmates. Through the years Harry and I had managed to stay in touch and form a long-lasting friendship for which I had a large fondness. I never told him I used to have a massive crush on him, however, as I didn't want to lose what we had.

"I have work to do when I get to LA," Harry said, "but then I have two days off. We should...hang out, yeah?"

"Yeah," I breathed, then cleared my throat. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Great." I could literally hear his smile through the phone, as if that's possible. "I'll let you get back to sleep. I'll call you when I get in, okay?"

"Okay."

"Sweet dreams, Gabby."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Disconnecting the call, I returned my phone to the nightstand and crawled back under the covers. I laid awake for Lord knows how long, wondering why Harry had decided to call me in the middle of the night just to say hi. Even if he had forgotten about the time zones, he had never done that before. More than likely he would have waited until he was in LA, and it would have been a quick text to ask if I wanted to meet him somewhere for coffee or drinks. We were only friends, after all, not...together.

Somehow, the heavy cloud of sleep finally fell over me again and I was taken back to dreamland. This time, however, I didn't dream about a red carpet event or my wishful buddies Alexa and Lizzo. This time...I dreamt of green eyes and brown curls, soft lips curled up to meet dimples and inked skin on arms that held me close. And I only wished I wouldn't wake up.

"Gaaaabbyyyy!" Harry shouted into the phone. "How are you, love?"

I laughed, recognizing my friend's drunken voice. One thing I loved about Harry, he was a happy drunk.

"I'm okay, Harry, where are you?"

"I dunno," he said matter of factly. "Some party. I forget who it's for."

"Jeez, must be nice," I quipped.

"Honestly, I wish you were here with me. It would be more fun."

I chuckled again. "I doubt that."

"I don't. Why aren't you here?" he asked with a slight pout in his tone.

"I wasn't invited."

"Oh yeah. Sorry. I should have invited you. You could have been my date."

While his words made my stomach flip, I knew he didn't mean them literally.

Since Harry had been back in LA, we'd hung out together almost every free chance he'd gotten. We'd had lunch and dinner together a couple of days in a row, went shopping to a string of vintage shops that were his favorites, and he even let me check out a studio where he was putting some finishing touches on a song he was working on. When he'd leisurely mentioned going to a party this weekend, I had only let the possibility that he'd ask me to go flitter through my mind briefly before dismissing it. He was a busy musician and celebrity, and certainly under no obligation to bring me as a tag along to such an event. I hadn't even bothered to ask him for whom it was, or if it was entertainment or charity related.

Just then I heard another male voice greeting Harry, and Harry saying "Hey, man!" They exchanged a few more words until Harry returned with a cordial and unnecessary apology.

"Well, it sounds like you're having fun," I commented.

"Eh, party's starting to die down," said Harry. "Think I might leave soon. Can I come by yours?"

"Mine?" I gulped. "Um...what for?"

"Mmm...so I can see you?"

"Well...I mean..." I stumbled, my eyes darting around my room and landing on the unmade bed and pile of clothes in the chair, the collection of empty water bottles on my nightstand and dresser. I hadn't bothered to put a stitch of make-up on that day, and I was wearing an old sweatshirt and shorts, my hair up in a loose bun.

"I wasn't really prepared for company," I continued. "And you just saw me the other day..."

I heard Harry giggle and for a second I thought he might be pulling my leg.

"Never mind. That was a dumb idea. It's late," he said.

"Yeah, it is." I sighed, not a hundred percent sure if it was relief or disappointment.

"Are you going to bed soon?"

"Probably."

"Then I'll say goodnight," Harry offered softly.

"Okay."

"Call you tomorrow?"

"Of course," I grinned, unable to stop it if I tried. "Please don't drive, okay?"

Harry giggled again. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," I said.

"I have a driver. But I like that you care about me, Gabs."

I bit my lip, grateful he couldn't see my face. "Goodnight, Harry. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Goodnight, Gabby. I love- I mean, talk to you tomorrow."

My hand shook as I disconnected the call. Was he about to say...? Nah. My friend had had a few too many and was feeling good. That's all it was. Right?

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked me.

He'd brought me to the studio again after a late breakfast where he'd told me the song he'd been working on was finally finished and he wanted me to hear it. I sat on the leather sofa behind him while he sat at the soundboard. I'd listened to almost the entire song with my eyes closed, letting the music surround me and fill my senses. When the song ended, I wanted to pop my eyes open and scream to him how amazing and wonderfully talented he was, but instead I bit my tongue and decided on a different approach.

"Not bad," I commented, straight faced.

Taken aback, Harry frowned. I watched his nose twitch before he scratched it, then looked away from me and back again.

"Not bad?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty good song." This time, I couldn't look him in the eye, so I brought my foot up to my other leg and pretended to inspect my shoelace. "I like it."

"You're shitting me, right?" he asked, using a phrase he'd heard me use far too often.

Unable to contain my composure any longer, I burst out laughing, throwing my hands up.

"Of course I am, Harry! Are you fucking kidding? It's incredible! You're incredible!"

I saw Harry's chest fall as he let out a breath.

"God, you had me for a second," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Okay, okay, let's be real," I offered, waving my hands in front of me. "You're like off the charts good, alright? That's a given."

"Pppfff" Harry sounded, rolling his eyes.

"No, no, it's true. And you know it. Pretty much anything you put out is going to be great. But..."

When I didn't continue, Harry lifted a brow. "But what?"

"But this..." I raised my shoulders and held out my hands, "I don't know, it's like you just keep getting better. You can't lose. Everything you reach for, you achieve it. And I'm so fucking proud of you."

I could feel myself starting to get a little choked up at my own words, knowing they were absolutely true. Harry rose from his chair then and sat next to me on the sofa. He looked me in the eye as the most gorgeous smile spread across his face and he held out his arms. With no other words spoken, I turned and leaned into him, letting him pull me into a warm hug.

"Thanks, baby," he murmured against my hair.

At least, I thought he said baby. He might have said Gabby, and I've been known to get the two confused before. I didn't think I heard the Gab part though, and I might have just been hearing what I wanted to. Regardless, my insides were a mess when he pulled back and kissed my cheek. His gaze was mesmerizing as he continued to look me in the eye, and for a moment I hoped he would inch just a bit closer so our lips would touch.

I caught the corners of his mouth moving as he lifted a hand from my back to brush away a strand of hair from my face. My own hands were still at his waist from the hug that seemed to linger between us until I heard a noise and I jumped. The door to the soundbooth opened and I looked up to see Tyler.

"Oh, hey there Gabby, didn't know you were coming today."

"Just wanted her opinion on the track we finished," Harry explained for me as I tried to gather myself.

"Oh yeah? What'd ya think?" asked Tyler.

"Phenomenal, of course," I replied, catching Harry's smirk out of the corner of my eye. I was glad he didn't mention my teasing.

"Well, consider yourself lucky," said Tyler. "You're the first person to hear it."

"I am?" I asked incredulously. Then I looked at Harry. "You didn't tell me that!"

Harry shrugged, his smirk turning into a grin.

"And here I thought I was being sly and cheeky."

Harry laughed then, took my hand and rose from the couch, pulling me with him. We both exchanged goodbyes with Tyler, Harry stating he'd be back later that evening. It wasn't until we got outside to his car that I noticed he was still holding my hand.

"What was that?" I inquired.

"Wha'?" he glared at me innocently.

"You let me hear your finished song before anyone else?"

"Yeah. Thought you'd like it."

"Well, of course I did, but that's beside the point," I argued.

Stepping closer to me so that I was trapped between him and the car, Harry reached in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his keys, his eyes locked with mine the entire time.

"And what's the point, Gabs?" he asked low, pressing the key fob.

"Nothing. Just that it's...special."

A grin grew on Harry's handsome face again, hitting a nerve I hadn't felt before.

"Exactly," he agreed, finally releasing my hand to reach around and open the car door for me.

Staring at him for a moment, I reluctantly climbed inside, locking my seatbelt when he shut the door and walked around to his side.

We drove in silence for what felt like an eternity until I broke the tension and said something.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome," he said.

"You're right, it was very special. I just wasn't expecting to be the first. Not even your mom or sister, or any of your other friends have heard it yet?"

"Nope. Only Jeffrey and Tyler and the band."

"Oh," I mouthed, feeling the butterflies again.

"I only just put it on my phone. But I wanted you to hear it in the studio since you were with me when we were finishing it. So actually, you got to hear it even before it was complete."

"Yeah, but that was just a snippet," I remarked. I wasn't sure where I was going with this. I wasn't trying to argue with him. I just couldn't fathom being the first person he wanted to hear his new music.

"Anyway," I added. "It was very nice of you to share it with me. I feel special."

With another grin, Harry reached across the console and patted my leg. I nearly came unglued when his fingers lingered a little longer and brushed my upper thigh. Electricity shot up my spine and I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping for air.

I must have been gazing out the window when Harry decided to disturb the silence and turn on the radio. I hummed along to a familiar song until I noticed Harry was getting off the freeway, a couple of exits before mine.

"Are we going somewhere else?" I asked, looking at him for the first time since he'd touched me.

"No," he shook his head. "Just thought I'd go this way."

"But...we'll hit way more lights," I said.

Harry chuckled. "You have somewhere to be?"

"No," I furrowed my brow. "It's just...longer."

"Sometimes longer is better."

I stared at his profile for a moment before I started laughing, which soon turned into a cackle. I had to cover my mouth so keep from sounding like a goofy hyena. As I was leaning over, I felt a hand on my back.

"Take it easy, love, it wasn't that funny," conveyed Harry, although I could hear the humor in his voice.

"I know, but I can't stop laughing," I croaked.

"Breathe, babe!"

Harry rubbed my back as I tried to catch my breath, but his babe remark wasn't helping.

"Need me to pull over?"

"No..." I gasped, sitting up. "No, I'm fine now."

Pushing my hair from my face, I tried my best to keep the giggles at bay. Then I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Sorry, Gabs," said Harry. "Didn't mean to get you going there. I just meant sometimes it's nice to take the long way home."

"Oh. Oh! Duh!" I blushed.

Harry smiled, turning up the radio. We sang along to an old Van Morrison song that just seemed to fit the mood for the day. When the next song started, Harry turned the radio down again and cleared his throat.

"So I have another party to attend this weekend," he stated.

"Oh yeah? Are you planning on drunk calling me again?" I jabbed.

"No," Harry laughed, turning down my block. "I was hoping you'd come with me."

"Oh. Really?" Taken off guard, I had no idea what else to say.

"Yeah. Will you?"

"Um...is it...like super fancy? Do I need a new dress...?"

"No, no, it's really casual. It's on the beach, actually. In Malibu. And um...it's overnight."

"Oh!" Damn. I wasn't sure I was prepared for a beach party. A rich, celebrity beach party. A formal event I could manage, maybe. I could fake my way through smiles and photo-ops, small talk and mingling. But casual celebrity parties made me uneasy. And overnight? With Harry?

"You don't...you don't think I'll be...out of place?" I asked.

"What? No. Gabs, you're the friendliest person I know, are you shitting me?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his use of my phrase again. Sometimes he was so fucking cute, and I wanted to kick myself for not allowing myself to notice it earlier. But at the same time I wanted to kick myself for noticing it now.

We pulled up to a red light, and Harry turned to look at me. "Please say yes. I'd love it if you went with me."

If the light hadn't changed, I would have gotten lost in his pleading eyes right then. Instead, as he shifted gears and accelerated, I sighed and gave in to his request.

"Okay. I'll go."

"Yay!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. "We'll have a great time."

When we arrived at my place, Harry walked me up to my door while giving me more details about the Malibu party. Angie was in the kitchen making some of her famous oatmeal raisin cookies, of which Harry could not resist. I finally sent him off with four more to take home with him and a reassurance I would go to the party.

"Just making sure," he grinned against the door frame, playing with his keys. "I have to give them a plus one, and I just think I'd have more fun with you than Jeffrey."

"Jeff's not going?" I teased, dismissing the first part of his comment.

"Eh..." Harry tilted his head. "He'll probably manage snagging himself an invite."

I pursed my lips before giving in to his humor. "Bye, Harry."

"Okay girl," I heard Angie say from the kitchen after I shut the door. "Spill it."

"Spill what?" I asked, grabbing my second cookie from the plate.

"The tea. You sure have been spending a lot of time with Harry lately."

"He's fun to hang out with," I said with a mouthful of cookie.

"Oh c'mon. I know I tease you about him and call him your boyfriend. But is there something going on between you for real?"

"No!" I replied a little too hastily, swallowing hard. "You know we're just friends."

"Well I thought you were," she said. "And you say you are, but does he know that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Gabby. Friends don't walk you up to your apartment and stick around for another twenty minutes and keep making excuses not to leave."

"You had cookies," I remarked.

"Gabs! Don't be blind! I heard him saying something about a party."

"Yeah...he invited me to one this weekend."

"His party?"

"No. I'm not sure whose it is. I just know it's in Malibu at some enormous beach house where there's rooms for all of us to sleep over."

Her jaw dropping, Angie wiped her hands on a dishtowel and dropped it on the counter. "Uh huh."

"It doesn't mean anything," I rolled my eyes.

"Okie doke. If you say so."

My roommate gave me the side eye as I walked down the hall to my room. Shutting the door, I leaned against it, wondering if she was right. Had my instincts been correct? Was this more than friendship? Or was I overthinking it and setting myself up to be heartbroken?

I stood outside on the porch beside the wooden railing, overlooking the beach. It was really beautiful this time of day. While a warm breeze still whipped my hair around me, the sun was beginning to announce its descending on the horizon.

The party had turned out to be even more than I'd imagined. While just the house I was standing in was probably the biggest beach house I'd ever been to, the two on either side were also members of the party's location, each complete with their own bar on the veranda. I'd never been to anything so fancy in my life, and in my simple white sundress I felt a little out of place. I'd mentioned my concern to Harry shortly after we'd arrived, but he assured me it was fine, and I looked beautiful. I'd gotten chills when he told me that, and not from the breeze, but when he'd noticed me shivering, he offered to get a sweater from my suitcase to which I declined.

"There you are," I heard behind me.

I turned my neck to see Harry approaching, the look of delight on his face.

"Was wondering where you'd gone," he said, offering me the drink in his hand.

I shook my head. "I'm sticking with beer tonight, and I'm taking a break for now."

"Alright," his smile faltered. "You okay?"

"Mmm, I'm fine," I nodded. "Just, sometimes sunshine and alcohol don't mix well with me, so I'm taking it easy."

"I understand. Speaking of the sun..." he gestured toward the sky that was starting to turn a bright orange just above the waves.

"So pretty, isn't it?" I commented.

"Beautiful," I heard him say, although from my peripheral view, it didn't seem like he was looking at the beach. When I looked up at him, he grinned like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I mean, yeah," he said, stirring the tiny straw in his drink. "This is my favorite time of the day."

We stood side by side as the sun became a golden half orb behind the ocean, and the beach became all aglow with strings of lights from the houses.

"Wanna take a walk before it gets too dark?" Harry asked, holding out his hand.

I took it hesitantly, following him down the steps and onto the sand. When we reached the damp shore, I removed my sandals so they wouldn't get muddy, holding them by the strap with my finger. My dress, though not long enough to reach my ankles, still came past my knees, so I had to lift it with my other hand, giving me no free hand to hold Harry's.

"Here, Gabs," he said, offering to hold my shoes.

With a smile, I accepted, taking his other hand once again. We strolled down the beach leisurely, our arms swinging between us. I teased him a couple of times, threatening to kick water on him, but when he lifted me up and spun me around, I knew my tricks had come to an end.

"Okay, okay, Uncle!" I screamed.

When he finally set me back down, I gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"Meanie," I said, picking up the hem of my dress that had almost gotten soiled.

"You might as well let that down, babe, you know you're gonna get wet," Harry laughed.

"Only if you plan on pushing me into the ocean!" I protested.

"Is that a dare?" He grinned his Cheshire cat smile, and I ran for it.

I was almost to the house when he caught up with me, but I suspected he had given me a head start. I squealed when his arms trapped me and he spun me around again, aiming for the water.

"Harry Edward Styles, let me down!" I shouted.

I never felt so relieved to feel warm sand beneath my feet than I did in that moment. Breathing heavily, I glared up at him, his eyes dancing with laughter.

"You're an ass," I remarked with disdain.

"Aw Gabs. I wouldn't have actually done it. You know me."

I narrowed my eyes. "I thought I did."

I started to head for the house, but Harry stopped me, standing in front of me. "Gabriella. C'mon, I was joking. I thought I was just going along with your game. I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath. "Okay."

Stepping closer to me, he brushed his hand against my bare arm. "I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you, or embarrass you. You mean too much to me. I was just having fun. That's why we're here, right?"

My face softened and I nodded.

"Forgive me, love?"

"'kay," I said softly.

"Alright," he beamed, handing me my shoes. "Let's go have a drink."

Harry and I sat at the bar outside of the main house. We had a great time chatting with each other, reminiscing, talking to some of Harry's friends. About an hour into it, however, although the alcohol was keeping my blood warm, the chill of the breeze was starting to get to me, so Harry left to retrieve my sweater. When he returned, he surprised me by having one of his own, nearly the same color as mine. I giggled when I saw him, but I also felt touched. I wasn't exactly sure if he did it on purpose so I wouldn't feel out of place, or if he was chilly too and didn't mind that we matched. Either way, I found it adorable, and I couldn't help but notice the gentle way he held my sweater open so I could slip my arms through before he rubbed my shoulders with his hands.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Any time," he leaned into my ear and whispered back.

The stool next to me ended up occupied while he was away, but being the generous guy he was, Harry didn't ask for it back and in fact insisted that the other woman sit there. So instead, he just stood next to me.

Something was apparent. I was completely confused. I had started to...feel things. More than friendship feelings. I was dizzy and not just because of the beer. I was seeing Harry in a different light, more than just the silly crush I'd had before. And I couldn't help but think he might feel the same. The problem was, I wasn't a hundred percent certain, and I didn't want to look like a fool if I just came out and asked. So I decided to take a different approach.

"So...confession time," I swallowed, setting my empty beer glass on the counter and swinging my legs underneath the bar to face him.

"Confession?" he teased with a smirk, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Yep," I nodded a little too eagerly.

"Alright," he grinned wider, leaning against the bar.

I had to contain my composure as he looked absolutely gorgeous, his hair windswept, his lips full and inviting, and I knew that one more sip of alcohol might possibly have caused me to leap from my barstool and give him more than the confession I had in mind.

"Remember when we met?" I asked.

"I do," Harry nodded.

"You had the long hair then," I commented, making hand gestures next to my face to imply long, cascading curls.

Harry chuckled, his shoulders shaking as I caught a glimpse of his cross necklace dancing in the middle of his chest. "Yeah."

"I used to have such a major crush on you," I blurted.

With a tilt of his head, Harry looked at me. I considered for a second that I'd made a horrible mistake by telling him. Surely he was confused that I'd made such a confession. We were friends in his eyes and always had been, nothing more. He was probably trying his best to think of a nice way to let me down, to tell me he'd never had similar feelings about me, or worse, that I shouldn't have such feelings for him, like a young schoolgirl with a crush on her older brother's friend. I suddenly wanted to take back my words, to pretend I hadn't said them, but Harry surprised me with his next question.

"Used to?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," I laughed nervously.

"Oh." Harry shifted on his feet and began to finger the napkin underneath his glass. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I made a sound and I shrugged. "You were...well, you were hot, and I couldn't believe you actually wanted to talk to me. But then we became close friends so..."

My words trailed off, but I figured Harry knew what I meant. Inspecting the contents of his glass, he swirled it around before lifting it to his lips and setting it back down. I watched him as my stomach flipped and he ran his free hand through his hair.

"I'm really glad we became so close," he said.

"Me too," I smiled.

"I like being your friend, Gabs," Harry added, turning to face me again, his grin mimicking mine for a second before it faltered and he shook his head. "I reckon I have a confession to make, too."

"You do?" I raised a brow, shifting on my stool.

"I've had a massive crush on you as well," he stated.

I gasped, nearly choking. "You did?"

His eyes blinking slowly, Harry stepped closer to me. Or at least, it seemed like he did, even though there was little space between us at it was.

"Did...still do," he confessed, his voice so low it was barely audible.

"What?"

My one word came out like my last breath, and I quickly felt like I needed oxygen. Harry was looking at me intently, standing so close, he was practically between my legs. The noise and chatter surrounding us was blatant, but time seemed to freeze as we stared at each other, Harry's confession whirling around us like clouds of smoke.

"I wasn't quite sure how to tell you," he finally said.

My eyes still wide, I glared at him incredulously. "For...how long?"

Harry shrugged just as the bartender returned with our drink refills. Suddenly realizing how thirsty I was, I eagerly picked up my glass and took a long chug of beer. I didn't miss the tiny smirk on Harry's face before he lifted his own glass and I wiped my apparent beer foam mustache from my lips with the back of my hand.

"Since...since we met?" I asked, urging Harry to continue as I set the glass back down.

"Oh, I dunno, Gabs," he shrugged again. "I mean, I fancied you then, definitely. But not in the way..."

"In the way...what?"

"In the...feelings kind of way," said Harry.

"There's a difference?" I asked, only half teasing.

"Well, of course," he grinned, his dimples reappearing on his cheeks. "I hadn't gotten to know you yet."

"Oh."

"Probably in the same way you fancied me," he added.

"Oh."

"Anyway, I..." he looked down, scratching his nose. "I kinda thought you knew. At least, at one time."

"When?" I asked, flabbergasted. Here I had been nervous about confessing my feelings for him, and I'd never even considered he'd had feelings for me all along, not just recently.

"Last year. Your birthday. And then New Year's."

My jaw dropped as I easily recalled both of those occasions, but had no memory of him giving me any idea he'd liked me as more than a friend. Sure, he'd given me an expensive gift, and we'd gotten pretty wasted on New Year's Eve and I'd let him crash at my place...

"I had no idea!" I exclaimed.

"Well..." Harry smirked, lifting his glass again. "I reckon I'm not very good at giving hints then. But it's...out in the open now."

"Harry..." I mouthed.

With another smile, he threw back the rest of his cocktail and set the empty glass on the bar.

"Kinda wish now I'd told you sooner," he said. "Seeing as you used to have a thing for me, too."

"Not used to," I admitted.

"Wha'?"

"I still do, too," I said. "Still have a thing for you, I mean. Or a crush, or whatever. No, not a crush, that seems so juvenile. Oh my God, Harry, I'm so stupid!"

Harry chuckled, his eyes squinting the way I liked that made him look so handsome and childlike at the same time.

"Slow down, love," he offered, placing his hand on my arm.

"I'm so dumb, Harry," I groaned. I could feel the effects from the alcohol now, but I knew my feelings were honest and not beer induced. "I've been making excuses. I was wondering why you were doing certain things, like calling me in the middle of the night or standing close to me. Playing me your song and inviting me to this party. I worried I was overthinking it all. Like there was no way you liked me in that way. We're just good friends. But now..."

"Now?" His eyes studied my face, waiting for my response as both of his hands took mine, bringing them to his chest.

"Now I know you do."

"Yes I do, Gabriella."

I wanted to grab him and kiss him right then and there, and I would have if the woman behind him hadn't bumped into him and reminded me where we were.

"C'mere," I urged, rising from my stool and taking his hand.

I pulled him to the steps that led to the beach and we walked until I found a dark enough spot where I knew we were out of earshot. Then I turned around and wrapped my arms around him. Without a word, Harry leaned down and kissed me softly, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my insides light up like dynamite. Then he deepened the kiss, our tongues dancing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

"Baby..." Harry groaned after our long kiss, his forehead pressed against mine.

"I...I heard you call me that earlier," I said as I traced his mouth with my fingertip. "I thought I was lying to myself."

"Not a lie, baby," he assured me. "I guess some of my hints did get through."

I smiled up at him and licked my lips.

"Kiss me again, Harry," I begged, "so I know I'm not dreaming."

"You're certainly not," Harry said low before pressing his lips to mine again.

We kissed like that on the beach for a long time, the noise of the party worlds away, the crash of the waves in the distance.

"Harry..." I whispered when we came up for air. "I know we're at a party and everything...but...I'd really like to be alone with you right now."

"I think that can be arranged," he agreed.

Not bothering to say goodnight to his friends at the main house, he took my hand and led me to the smaller house on the left, the one in which we were staying. With a quick wave to a handful of people on the porch, we made our way through the back doors and up the stairs. Stopping in the hallway, Harry grinned at me.

"Yours or mine?" he asked cheekily.

"Shut up and get in there," I quipped, pushing him towards our room.

When he opened the door, I eyed the two beds.

"Seems like such a waste," I commented as I followed him to the bed he chose, kicking off my shoes.

"Could have been worse," said Harry as he sat on the bed. "I could have asked for separate rooms."

"Oh, so you were expecting to get some tonight?" I teased as I sensually unbuttoned my cardigan and dropped it.

"No baby," he replied, pulling me to stand between his knees, his green eyes sincere. "Just hoping."

With a gentle smile, I leaned forward and took his face in my hands. I looked at him for a few moments, studying his gorgeous face before kissing his soft, warm lips. It was as though a fire had ignited within me, and I couldn't get enough. I felt his hands on my hips then, trying to pull up the sides of my dress. I heard a pout sound from his throat as I separated our mouths, but his face lit up when he realized what I was doing. Grabbing the hem of my dress, I pulled it up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor. Another sound vibrated from Harry's chest before he slid his hands up my sides and rose from the bed.

In one swift motion, he pulled both his sweater and shirt over his head, not bothering to separate the two. I had seen him shirtless before, but somehow this time was different. I wanted to trace every tattoo, kiss the little patch of hair on his chest and lick a long trail down his belly. My mouth began to water knowing I had the opportunity. I watched him unbutton his pants next, causing my heart to beat faster. I must have been biting my lip in anticipation because Harry chuckled low then, lifting his finger to pry my lip from my teeth.

"You're so sexy," he declared.

"Me?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his eyebrows raised in confirmation. "I've wanted to suck on that bottom lip for a long time."

"God, you're gonna drive me crazy, aren't you?"

Harry laughed harder. "That's the plan."

Unable to control myself, I crashed into his lips again, tangling my fingers in his hair. He moaned against my mouth while his hands found the clasp of my bra, letting the straps fall down my shoulders. I released my grip on his hair so that the bra could drop to the floor and within seconds, my naked breasts were covered by his hands.

This time it was my turn to moan. One thing about Harry that I was perfectly aware of, other than his talent and cheekiness, was that he had amazing hands. When we'd first gotten to know each other, I would sometimes stare at them. And after I started thinking of him in a new way recently, it was not uncommon for me to fantasize about them. Feeling them touch my tender, bare skin was like nothing I'd ever dreamed. I could already feel the wetness between my thighs, and I felt light-headed.

"Harry..." I heard the sound come from my lips before I opened my eyes to see his staring back at me.

"Let's go to the bed, love," he announced.

In my...somewhat mediocre...experience, I was never sure of the protocol for turning down the bed for sex. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I saw Harry grab the quilt and pull it down to the foot of the bed.

"C'mere, baby," he beckoned as he laid down.

A tiny spark of nerves shivered down my spine as I slowly crawled onto the bed beside him. He reached for me, pulling me against his body and kissing me passionately.

"I don't want this to be awkward," he whispered. "So you let me know if it doesn't feel right and you wanna stop."

"No," I shook my head. "No, it's not awkward at all. I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

"Let me help you relax then," he said. "Tell me how I can help."

His hand slid down my hip as I stared into his eyes. His fingers slipped underneath the lace side of my panties and I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"How's that feel?" I heard him ask, his calloused fingertips lightly stroking the skin across my hip.

"Very nice," I breathed.

His hand moved slightly underneath the lace and I suddenly felt his fingers approach the area I needed him most. Another breath hitched in my throat as he began to touch me. With each moan of response I gave him, he continued, moving in circles with his fingertip.

"How's that, baby?"

"Mmmnnn...yes..." was all I could manage to say before he chuckled again. Shifting onto my back, I opened my legs wider so he had better access. Harry, however, had other ideas. Pulling his hand from my panties, he crawled up on his knees, his face inches from mine.

"I wanna taste you, Gabriella," he declared.

I threw my head back and whispered to the headboard as Harry pulled down my lace underwear. "Fuck, yes."

While my insides were still shaking, I no longer felt nervous. I already knew what his hands could do in just a few minutes. Now I was eager to feel his mouth on me.

Harry was one to take his time, never in a rush for anything, and this was no exception. He left soft kisses on my stomach and pubic bone, then lifting my thighs, he left kisses there as well. I was nearly ready to explode by the time I finally felt his tongue on me, and even then, he took his time.

Harry seemed to catch my clues as well, knowing when to speed up or slow down, learning my body and how much I could take. As I could feel myself reaching my climax, he lifted my hips with his hands, and as I came, he slowed gently before lowering me back down and kissing my thighs once again. My body trembled slightly as he laid his head on my thigh and hummed, waiting patiently for me to come down.

"God, you're beautiful," I heard him murmur as he crawled up my body again, his hands on my breasts.

I tasted myself on his tongue as he kissed me before he shimmied down and took my nipples into his mouth. I moaned again at the sensation, unable to control my urge to feel him inside me.

"Still nervous?" he asked me with a smirk.

I laughed out loud. "Not at all."

"Good," he chuckled. "'Cause I wanna fuck you so bad."

I laughed again, throwing my arm over my eyes.

"Too much?" I heard him ask as I felt the bed shift.

"No," I replied, lowering my arm as I saw him remove his underwear and reach in his bag for a condom. "I have a feeling there's no such thing as too much with you."

He laughed then, returning to the bed. "I guess we'll find out."

I bit my lip at both his cheeky remark and the anticipation. Lifting my knees, I watched him scoot between them. The initial pressure and sting was immediately replaced with immense pleasure as he filled me and began to thrust. Perhaps the aftershock of his oral treatment hadn't completely worn off, because it didn't take long before I was moaning and gasping underneath him. And I certainly was not alone because Harry's moans soon began to mimic mine, and he whined my name.

"Holy shit, you feel so good," I cried.

"Yeah, baby, fuck," he growled. "I'm close already."

I'd always thought the concept of coming together ridiculous, if not impossible. But with Harry, I wanted it. I even begged for it.

"Come with me, Harry," I called out, my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands holding onto his back for dear life.

"Fuck, yes."

And with one more thrust, it happened.

Fireworks, bottle rockets, shooting stars...all the silly cliches I'd read in books...they weren't fiction. Mind-blowing sex is real.

We laid in bed staring at the ceiling while our breaths evened out, then took turns in the bathroom. When I returned, I was surprised to see Harry with the sheet and quilt pulled up to his butterfly tattoo, two votive candles lit on the nightstand.

"Oh nice," I commented. "Where'd the candles come from?"

"They were here," he answered, his voice lower than usual. "In the table. It had been my plan to light them when...I mean if...we came up here. But I forgot."

"God Harry..." I mused as I crawled into bed beside him.

"What?"

"You just..."

With a wide grin, he chuckled, his adorable dimples dipping in his cheeks as he pulled me to him once again. "What, baby?"

"We're not friends anymore," I remarked.

"We're not?"

"No. Friends don't...do this," I said, brushing my fingers through his curls. "And definitely not what we just did."

"We're still friends, Gabs," Harry replied. "Just...a different kind."

"A better kind...I hope."

"Definitely."

"Hmm," I nodded. "Just do me a favor and don't break my heart."

"That's not part of the plan," he shook his head.

"Good. 'Cause I already kinda love you."

Lifting himself up on his elbow, Harry raised a brow. "Just kinda?"

"Well...you know...because we were already so close..."

With a glorious smile, Harry lowered his head to kiss my nose, then my lips.

"I love you too, baby," he said.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[dalsrealities]

⌞𝓓ALILA𝓗⌝

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎.

about ⸝⸝ my realities ⸝⸝ pinterest ⸝⸝ instagram

𝓐BOUT ⟢ 𝓜YSELF

Hheelloooo!!!! i'm Dal (actually Elena but in my dr im Dalilah so we'll keep it that way...) i'm fifteen, soon i'll be sixteen so don't worry! i'm Argentinian but i'll speak in English since i can't find spanish people in here, sadly.

im just a teenager, a girl, woman, uh, and human!! i listen to different genres of music because i cant decide which one i like, and since i am chronically in the internet i hear anything and everything. i'm a weirdo but not because i'm pretty normal (???.

i can be everything, literally. it's a CURSE, but anyways. part of me screams nerd, weirdo (if i didn't mention that before), stupid, BUT, another part screams icon, it girl, the most chic and bohemian bitch you'll ever see. it's up to yall what you think of me, so.

𝓓alilah's favorites & 𝓜ore

────୨ৎ──── 𝓢eries

yall, let me introduce you to the best fcking series yall are gonna witness in your disastrous lifes: 𓇼 Dexter: do i even have to explain myself? it's giving assassin x sunshine (only between him and Rita ofc cs Lila is buried deep in hell for me). 𓇼 Prison break: i swear to god, michael scofield is to DIE for. even if the actor's gay in real life, we don't judge. 𓇼D.P: i finished this thing in like, a day or two. I am THE binge-watcher queen. i'm not playing.

────୨ৎ──── 𝓕ilms

Then movies, the pianist; shattered my heart in MILLION pieces, the pursuit of happiness; i cried myself to sleep the night i watched it because i felt bad for the lil kid, pulp fiction; idk i watched i with my dad, it's a classic in my family, and lastly, the assassin; im a HUGE fan of the smiths, so you can tell i really enjoyed it.

────୨ৎ────𝓜usic

yall i swear to GOD i have over a thousand of different favorite artists and genres, i literally forget all of them when i have to mention them. but here i go! 𓇼 Aespa: i'm into kpop like im into fish -im allergic to fish-, but somehow, aespa managed to pull me into their world. man, i don't know what them song have, they just too good. 𓇼 Queen: roger taylor's number one fan since a child. do not argue with me right now. 𓇼 NewJeans: or whatever they're called now because something happened with Hybe i think. i don't know, same with aespa. genuinely love them. 𓇼 The Cardigans, The Smiths, The Clash, every band with "the" honestly. me and my family have always been into sad 80's music.

Yall im making this too long, im a certified yapper

𝓢hifting 𝓙ourney

i started "shifting" in 2020, question marks because i actually never shifted at that time, yall the mis-information was CRAZY back then.

i left it because i took like, a break, between 2021 and 2022, got back at it in 2023 but only did scripts. i was honestly just focused on renovating my information with the right one, 2024 i was lazy but i did try some methods. BUT, on 2025 i WILL shift, on God itself and his baby mama and his small cute baby.

OKAY I HOPE YALL LIKE ME BECAUSE I SPENT A LOT TRYNA WRITE THIS DOWN (i genuinely have zero creativity to write. im probably the most boring person in Tumblr)

⌞𝓓ALILAH'𝓢 ⟢ 𝓡EALITIE𝓢⌝

𝚆𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕, 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚕.

────୨ৎ──── outer banks dr

just needed my teenage romance mixed with the beach life. honestly 10/10 (haven´t shifted yet but we're getting there!!) ⤷ s/o: JJ, duh.

────୨ৎ──── gossip girl dr

so, i just wanted drama at the moment i scripted this reality -i still want the drama guys-. wanted to be a diva and dress with chic/bohemian clothes. ⤷ s/o: Nate Archibald, i apologized to both Serena and Blair...

────୨ৎ──── true beauty dr

girl i became so obssessed with seojun after i watched this series -i still am-. i scripted this reality also because it seemed so cool (even tho it's kinda cringey...), i don't know, leave me alone⤷ s/o: seojun, of couuurseee

────୨ৎ──── fame dr

i just love being famous, the idea of being an icon. i just love being a cunty diva. i scripted that i can like, do whatever what i want so i don't get lots of scandals. i know i'd be a very controversial celebrity ⤷ s/o: none, sadly. i just wanted it to flow, so i could be with whoever i wanted 😈

𓇼 whats in my fame dr bag 𓇼 makeup routine

────୨ৎ──── ballerina dr

girls i just wanna achieve my childhood dream. i used to do ballet but i quit when i was 11. WORST DECISION SO FAR. when i tell you im stiff, i mean it. i lost so much elasticity omg.⤷s/o: an invented man because no boy could ever meet my awesome standards

𓇼 whats in my ballet bag

────୨ৎ──── soloist dr -kpop-

idk guys just wanted to. i really dont know what to say. i don't even listen that much kpop, i just think the dances are super fun. like, giselle in the middle in whiplash, girl that was so hard i went FERAL. ⤷ s/o: cha eunwoo/woo dohwan, i cannot decide

𓇼 stage makeup routine

okay so that's allllllllllllllllll!!!!!!!! im so excited to do this wtf??? i just wanna blog about my dr ant stuff. i wanna be cool like all the other bloggers on here

[softrozene]

“Everything is Going to be Okay.” - Arthur

From an old event I did called the Sad Yee Haw Hours:

Anon asked: For sad yeehaw hours...8 with Arthur/male reader, please? Thank you in advance. ❤ 

rdr2 masterlist 

I have no words for this one. Just ouch. :’) Enjoy Lovely. 

Originally published on June 27, 2020 

Arthur Morgan x Male Reader

Scenario Starter Number 8: “Everything is going to be okay.”

Warnings: Sadness, the ultimate sadness, death, spoilers y’know with Arthur haha,

Words: 756

-

“Everything is going to be okay.”

You don’t know how many damn times you said that stupid sentence. You don’t know why you keep saying that pointless lie. Arthur knows he’s dying and you seem to be in a slight denial but slowly accepting it. The next time you see fucking Micah and Dutch, you swear they will go by your hands.

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m still here. Calm down and help me get to that rock. I want to watch the sunrise with you,” Arthur murmurs.

You despise how exhausted he sounds. You hate it so much and how weak he is that he can barely move. You listen without any other thoughts. You pull him up onto your shoulder and wince when you hear him cough like crazy. You move him to the spot he pointed out. It’s a perfect place for when the sunrise comes up.

Once he is leaning against the rock as comfortable as he can get he looks for your hand. You immediately lace your fingers with his and hold his tightly. You want to remember how his hand feels desperately. The tears keep trying to come out but you don’t want his last moments to be you crying.

“You going to meet up with John? Make sure he got to Abigail?” Arthur breaks the silence.

You reply, “No. I’ll stay with you until the very end. Then I’ll give you a proper burial.”

He chuckles at this before becoming serious. “I love you (Name). I’m sorry that you had to get stuck with a guy like me but maybe now you can go off and find another partner. Someone who won’t disappoint you as much.”

“Don’t fucking say that. I want to be your man only. No one else’s. I am lucky to have met you and lucky to have fallen in love with you,” You state your voice clear and this time staring at him, your eyes no longer misty.

He laughs again and leans into you. You can feel him growing weaker. You want to give him a story about your past life or the gang but the latter would be too painful right now. Instead, you pull Arthur’s weak body into your lap so he can lean more into you and you hold him.

You both remain in complete silence (besides Arthur’s bloody coughs) until you think of something to ease his dying self.

“I will make sure John got to Abigail after I tend to you. I’ll try and make sure everyone got out safe. More importantly, I’m going to make sure Micah pays for his betrayal,” You promise.

You don’t say a word on Dutch. You don’t have the heart to do that to him unless he personally requests something to be done to Dutch. He seems to be content with what you have promised so far as his bodyweight seems to become heavier as he becomes weaker.

You remain in silence the majority of the time. Letting out and ‘I love you’ every now and then as he chuckles and says it back. Soon enough, the night starts to become lighter as you spot the sun slowly but surely coming over the horizon. Arthur’s breathing is weaker and he is hanging onto his last moments with you to see the view he loves the most.

“You’re going to be just fine without me. I promise,” Arthur says his voice barely audible.

Since he is in your lap you let your emotions take over since he can’t see them. Your cheeks become wet as you nod your head trying to agree with him. You find your lips at the back of his neck and you let him have his last moments with the view.

When his body becomes limp you hesitantly call for him. “Arthur?”

No reply.

“Arthur?”

Your body starts to shake uncontrollably as you hold onto his lifeless body. The reality of him being gone is sinking in and it is crushing you. You feel as if your world is gone. You hug him and shake as you try and ground yourself.

You don’t know how much time has passed but eventually, you become numb as you realize you need to give him a proper burial. Your heart feels empty as you try and guard yourself so you can mourn over him later, but a new emotion is rising up. You feel the need to pursue your promise now and fast.

Everything may be okay in the future but right now it isn’t.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

New Rule: Identity Crisis | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule: now that we're all recovered from St Patrick's Day, let's make it the last one. You know, I never understood Irish Pride or any pride in anything other than what you've actually accomplished. And as holidays go, St Pattie's is kind of malarkey. You don't get presents like Christmas or candy like Easter or joyless appointment sex like Valentine's Day. You don't even get a Peanuts special.

There's just a parade. And what rights are we marching for? The right to drink in the day? Do we still need to take to the streets in a public expression of support for Irish migrants?

I think now more than ever we need to stop talking about the things that make Americans different from each other and start honoring the things that make us the same. So let my people, the Irish, lead the way because again, the Irish think I don't give a shit.

But, I do give a shit who wins the next election. And outdated racial pandering is one reason Democrats lose elections. When Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi put on Kente cloth, I don't think it earned them one vote for their powerful emotional ties to Ghana.

Here in California, we're now segregating kidnapping. Really. California doesn't just have amber alerts for missing children, we have ebony alerts for black children and feather alerts for Native American Kids. What is that we look for them by listening on the ground?

Look, even if you like identity politics, this kind of thing is antiquated. From 2010 to 2020, the number of people identifying as multi-racial in America went up 276 percent. One in five newlyweds now are in an interracial marriage. And that number goes up to 100% in ads for Subaru.

You couldn't do a remake of "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" today because almost 100% of Americans approve of interracial marriage. Especially with rich in-laws. And 95% of white women would leave their husband to marry Idris Elba. Idris Elba who says, "As humans we are obsessed with race and that obsession can really hinder people's aspirations." Actress Raven-Symone agrees. She told Oprah, "I'm tired of being labeled. I'm not an African-American. I'm an American." She says, "I don't know what country in Africa I'm from. My roots are in Louisiana."

And you don't have to agree with that, but it's a point of view a lot of people have. It should be respected. Morgan Freeman says the way to finish off racism is, "stop talking about it. I'm going to stop calling you a white man and I'm going to ask you to stop calling me a black man."

There's even a movement now to ban racial questions on the census, and many of its leaders are people of color like Professor Sheena Mason who says, "to undo racism we have to undo our belief in race."

The liberal group moveon.org formed in 1998 to urge Republicans to move on from the Clinton impeachment. Today's Democrats should move on from identity politics. It's not working. It's not working for them or for us. Democrats are hemorrhaging the very voters they think they're pandering to.

The Financial Times writes, "Democrats are going backwards faster with voters of color than any other demographic," and suggests the reason is that, "A less racially divided America is an America where people vote more based on their beliefs than their identity." Exactly. Far-left liberals are living in an old paradigm. Americans don't fit into into neat little boxes anymore.

Who has the number one country song right now? Beyonce. Lil Naz X won a country music award, and he's black and gay. And a brand ambassador for the waspiest purse in America, Coach. The biggest new star in country is Jelly Roll who was a drug dealer, then a prisoner, then a rapper and then a face tatted country music star. Not to mention a giant middle finger to the idea of staying in your own lane.

No, in America now, you're allowed to be many things all at once and that's a good thing even when it's really stupid.

Look, we're all Jelly Roll now. We're sloppy, complicated and contradictory. Two-thirds of Republican voters support weed legalization. And 41% of Democrats own or live with someone who owns a gun. Ms Marvel is Pakistani. And the winner of the last two NBA dunk contests is white. The new Captain America is black. And Spider-Man is black and Puerto Rican, just like AI George Washington.

Latinos make up half of the Border Patrol. And the name of the coolest black dude on the planet is Lenny Kravitz. Ru Paul has a ranch in Wyoming that does fracking. Really. And has a fortified compound with a bunker to die for. And somehow the leader of the Village People was straight. Really. Je just went to the YMCA to work out. And the leader of the Proud Boys isn't an old white guy he's Enrique Toreo, an Afro-Cuban. He burns crosses on his own lawn.

Caitlyn Jenner is a pro-Trump transwoman who supports a ban on trans athletes competing in women's sports. And there's even an LGBTQ organization called "Gays for Trump." And why wouldn't there be? Gays love drag queens.

Our black president was half white. And our black vice president is half Asian. And Tiger Woods is, oh we don't even have the time.

My point is, look, you're still building your politics around slicing and dicing people into these fixed categories. Democrats need to get the memo that you can't win elections anymore by automatically assuming you're going to get every voter who's not these guys.

The more you obsess over identity, the more you ignore the bread and butter issues that win and lose elections. The real issue is class, not race, and the real gap is the diploma divide. And the real future of the party and maybe democracy depends on Democrats figuring that out.

==

Prediction: Trump will win, because even if the Dems wanted to change course on this identity politics bullshit, there are far too many identitarians who've been elected into it on that exact basis. Look at The Squad, where every single one of them is a pathological liar who plays only by identity cards.

They can't undo a decade of abandoning their core constituency, the working class, in favor of privileged woke academic elites in the span of only six months. Even if they wanted to. Not with the wingnuts still around, doing what they've been doing for years: sucking up all the oxygen and screaming about their imaginary oppression. And there's no sign they do.

[bandzboy]

Different anon, but. Look, I was already boycotting the song itself and everything from the day it was announced. But at this point, I feel this really weird uneasy feeling that I can only describe as: I'm not sure if I want to be a STAY anymore.

With things going the BTS Americanization Route (with extra Zionism), it just feels so starkly different from the SKZ and 3Racha that I admired originally. Not that changing music style is bad itself (they changed quite a bit from the start of 2020 to 2023). But it feels less like a change made from growth, and more like getting stripped of what made their whole thing appealing originally.

And I see it with parts of the fandom too. Yes, there's still some nice fans. But now we have a bunch that are so focused on streamings and chart ratings and big numbers, rather than if they actually like the music.

I miss when most Stays would joke about how their view counts were all ''organic''. Now they're raising money to get collab songs on the charts. I miss when most Stays were proud multistans, and their v-live fan forum would regularly be sprinkled with posts about Ateez or TXT or Day6, or even Limesoda.

And the weird thing is: I told myself back in the late 2010s that I wouldn't get caught up too much in the celebrity fandom thing. That I wouldn't put SKZ on a pedestal, so that I wouldn't get disappointed if things went south somehow. But now, I subconsciously hesitate to listen to even their other songs, even if it's through unofficial or pirating means. And I feel like I'm over-reacting, and it's frustrating.

Sorry for the rant. I just feel like I need a second opinion on this.

i think this is honestly a valid reaction and feeling this way is valid too because even i feel this way about kpop in general and kpop groups like even before all of these boycotts started to unfold i was just SO jaded with this "community" if we can even call it that. the way some people are behaving lately towards this boycott is unveiling the fact that some people just care about streaming and buying and that's it! that's their whole purpose as a fan and then also shun people that don't wanna do it and for what reason? also, the fact that i've seen so much racism come to light with this! people getting harassed for wanting to stand for something and being pro palestinian, palestinian fans getting harassed for calling shit out because yes their feelings are super valid and especially when the group they stan is saying nothing and the company they are under is employing zionists, they can feel betrayed like idgaf about what people say! even before this when fans would call out idols for being ignorant these fans would be racist to these fans for being hurt like?? what is this culture we are creating in these spaces is what i am asking?? i knew it was like that even before all of this but lately it's like i am getting hit with realizations left and right it's so insane how some people are acting. whether some people like it or not, we are allowed to feel disappointed and criticize them. even i feel stupid for these types of things bc it's like you mentioned we should know better and yet we put these people on pedestals and for what? it's all very valid concerns to have especially this time around! so many companies want groups to be international but then dgaf about international fans' opinion and they never did to begin with how do expect people to want to stan these groups when they do disrespectful shit and you pretend we don't exist unless we give you money

[auggietopia]

i started this blog in december 2019. it was the first tumblr i was ever truly active on, and i had no idea how tags or anything worked. i was freshly 16 and at the age where i was just starting to discover who and what i was, and a lot of it came through in the poetry i posted here. i had very rigid ideas of what literature and poetry was, as i had stopped doing it for a very long time. i wanted attention. i was eager, although i didnt know it then. i was hopeful.

covid hit three months later, in march 2020. i was in the year group whose gcses were cancelled. i posted one poem right as covid hit, in march, and then my last poem i posted in september of 2020 around when i started sixth form, after the longest summer i will ever have in my life. it was also the best summer i have had in my life. i spent 5 months calling with my best friends so constantly to the point i woke up at 6pm and went to bed at 9am just to talk to them. i realised my identity and tried to come out to a mother i would quickly find out was transphobic. i made a lot of friends. i started to gain some real footing on who i was.

i blinked and i am in march 2024. it is four years and a few days since i posted my second to last poem, which is a number that feels truly shocking to type out as it feels like it has been a year at most. in 2019 i turned 16, but in 2024 i will turn 21. this fact upsets me as the absolute formative amount of ageing i went through between the ages of 13-16 feels like it was my entire life and that there isnt room for anything else worthwhile to occur. on my 18th birthday, i held the frog teddy i bought for myself and listened to lord huron at full volume to block out the fear blurring its way into the edges like a migraine. on my 19th birthday, i was alone and terrified in my university dorm. i can't even remember my 20th birthday because of how insignificant it was. ageing, past the age of 18, went from being something exciting to something terrifying in a way i told myself it never would. and yet i am still here, and yet i still age. in a few months, it will be my 21st, and it will likely be at home, and it will likely be alone.

in the space between 16 and now, a lot happened. there were some pretty good things. they sit tiny next to the fact i lost my best friend in 2021 because they turned out to be quite literally the worst person i have ever known on this planet. i will never forgive them for what they did. realistically, every problem i hold against them is so small in the scale of the universe that maybe it isn’t worth holding onto at all, but i have not learned that lesson. i am aggressively refusing that lesson, in fact. at least for right now.

my mental health also took the biggest nosedive it has ever taken. sixth form shut down all sense of self discovery i had once i begin to nosedive in my academics and lose all of my friends. i still havent regained my footing. it has been 2 years since i left sixth form, and i still havent regained my footing.

but it is nice to look back over this blog and not regret a single thing i wrote.

all of this is to say i am going to start posting here again. and, in the most cliche way possible, i am going to do it for me this time. and i am going to post whatever i want without caring whether or not it is refined enough, because life is scarily fleeting and i can do whatever i want.

i was first allergictodrowning, and when i thought that was stupid i became autumndrowns, and now i will be something else that i havent decided yet but it will definitely be equally as stupid. :)

[taylover98]

✍🏽 OPEN LATTER TO TAYLOR SWIFT:

Hi! I introduce myself, my name is Sofía Im 25 years old from Argentina 🇦🇷. I've been swiftie since 2009/2008 I guess it's been a lot time ago in those time when internet wasn't a big omnipresent thing jaja so I can't really remember how and when I hear you for the first time. Anyways, YOU more than anyone can realise that your fame and fans an music and numbers grown so fast the last year's 📈 and of course I'm so proud of you and I love that people know you music appreciate your lyrics and stop see us like stupids little and immature girls like was the whole decade of 2010-19. Even a lot of girls that I know and bullied me for listen pop now wants to go tu your show y Buenos Aires and A LOT of Boys that made fun of my friends and I NOW will or want to go or listen your music.... ☺️🔪 I love your recently massive fame BUT I'm honest it hurts me and put me in disadvantage bc now I have to fight with more than 1.000K persons that wants to go to the show! Rich persons, persons that started to hear you in 2020, I even think that MY WHOLE FAMILY deserve go to the show for sing and listen yours songs since 2008/9.

Tomorrow is the day. I'm honest, my family is kinda poor media class is luxury for us the tickets of 40.000 in 6 dues will cost us A LOT we doesn't even have credit card ☠️ my neighbour will borrow hers ♥️

My point is, I hope go to the show with my familia, I hope every swiftie thats share time with you since little girls 🪻 have the opportunity I hope Taylors Nation do a investigation and can gif this girls something and the experience we've been waiting for more than 10 year's!!!! I'm SO glad your visit ✨ it's like a dream come true, I felt like a 9 year old girl again with a 13 in her hand and the dream of every dress you wore with the perception of you like a truly princess 💗🥹 I re born somehow a trip to the past.

🫂 Hope you enjoy the journey and come back again, choose us again. Think about your old fans and poor fans and fans that live in Argentina but far to Buenos Aires. This is the real world only the persons who have money can do anything to go. A privilege world. So I trust you and your team and I hope and know somehow some girls have the tickets that they deserve 🫶🏼

I love you Taylor, I'm so grateful for your music it helped me so much in a lot of bully, loneliness, sad, struggle times.

Enjoy Latinoamérica ✨🪻

Sofi.-

P.s: TAYLOR LPM I FORGOT IM PHOTOJOURNAL SO IF YOU CAN GIVE ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO TAKE PICTURES IN YOUR SHOW IT WOULD BE AWESOME 🫂🫶🏼🥹

@taylorswift @taylornation

[anmarifromearth]

Chapter 1: The Origins of the Stupid Blue Canister Note: Cross posted on Quotev.

WC: 2.7 K -- Masterlist -- featuring art by @amalthiaph

Skeletons decompose within twenty years. This is usually the case if the skeleton doesn't get any treatment; when the body, for example, was never taken to a morgue and was just randomly burried or left somewhere, like abandoned houses, sealed off container vans, or hidden passages in a school. I learned that after working as a librarian in Wessman School of Arts for sixteen years. 

I was sat in my usual desk by the door. A slight creaking sound was heard as I shifted on my leather office seat. My computer, which sat on one side of the desk, was open, but I am too invested in the Edgar Allan Poe Collection I took from the Literature section to pay it any attention. It was mid-Thursday halfway through the first semester of the 2023 academic year, and I listened to the slight whispering of the students scattered across the the long tables of the school library. In Wessmans, teachers like to give out exams on Friday or Mondays, so the number of students reading under in the room well lit by the series of huge glass windows was high compared to the rest of the week. 

A tall shadow was cast on my book, causing me to look up. My eyes were met by a tall boy with dark curly hair. He was holding out a book and a library check-out card. I inhaled as I took the card from his hand, using my other to retrieve the stamp on table. "Where's your canister?" I asked, filling in the details in the card, like the date when it was borrowed. 

"We are going to start using computer aided design now," he said in his usual British accent. "You know, now that we're on our third year." He smiled. "And there's no more need for it." 

I returned his smile, knowingly. "Here you go," I said, handing him the book. 

"Thank you," the boy muttered as he began to walk away. 

I hesitated for a moment, but decided to do so anyway, "Zach." The boy stopped in his tracks to walk back to my table. "Don't you think it's about time you return the plans to where they actually came from?" 

The keys jingle as the headmaster struggle to unlock the oak doors. I assume it's because the lockset is now rusty, having remained closed since 2003. I looked out on the halls to watch the maintentance light up the wall sconces as it begins to get dark. Mr. Philipps recruited me and the trio to help him prepare the museum for the school open. This year is the seventieth anniversary of the school's founding, twenty years from when I first stepped into Wessman. 

After what seemed like eternity, the door finally swung open, with Mr. Philipps grunting out of disgust. "We have to replace that lockset," he said, placing the keys back in his coat pocket. 

"Why was this closed again?" Iris asked, looking up at the ceiling as she walked in. 

"Theft," Mr. Philipps said, closing the door as soon as everyone was inside. "A bunch of students broke in at night and stole something."

Iris only nodded before turning her attention to the displays. Despite staying here for three years, and well--owning the place, it was her first time inside the Wessman School Museum. The three of them was supposed to be on their last year, but because of the pandemic in 2020, we had to close the school for two years. All of us went to our respective homes; Mr. Philipps, Zach, and Charles went home to Hendersonville. To Zach's surprise, their houses were in the same estate so he didn't have to miss his bestfriend. His girlfriend, on the other hand, went all the way back to Georgia, to her adoptive grandmother. Some of the staff decided to stay within Wessman to keep guard. I, however, just live in the town outside the school. I am one of the few who don't stay in the school.

Iris took the two-year break to request for a restoration of the house. The headmaster agreed--as if he actually has a say in it--and mentioned that it would be perfect for the school's seventieth anniversary which would take place this year. 

The school reopened in 2022. And everything went back to normal. 

Like the other rooms, the museum had dark wooden wainscoting. This room had a maroon wallpaper and a carpeted floor. The walls were filled with picture frames of students from different clubs back in my time. There were three huge frames that don't have anything in them, just a paper, now yellow due to its old age, inside the picture frame. However, the edges are more yellowish that the rectangular area in its middle, indicating that there used to be something there that had been missing. "What used to be here?" Iris asked, pointing to the empty displays. 

The headmaster only turned to the tall boy who leans shyly on one of the display, "Building plans," he muttered.

Iris raised one of her eyebrows, "I thought you said your father got it from an auction?"

"I also said I don't know about the passages and the Hour Hand," he spat back, "That's not the only thing I lied about." 

"You also did not mention you weren't the first Stratmann to go here," Charles said, leaning on the same display, right beside Zach. 

"No," he answered, "My aunt Caroline went here too. Unfortunately, she was expelled on her first year."

"It happens when you stole something," Mr. Philipps replied, glancing back at the boy, as he walked to the closed curtains. One by one, he pulled them open, letting the orange light into the room. 

Zach got up and walked to one of the curtains, aiding the headmaster in pulling them open, "I plan to return them." He turned his attention to the older man, "We can unveil it along with the museum in the School Open." 

It was the School Open. To celebrate the school's seventieth anniversary, the headmaster planned a series of activities, beginning with the reopening of the school museum. A lot of students, mostly Architecture students, gathered around the three frames that contained the floor plans of each level of Velvet Manor. Some took photos, some just inspected it and the headmaster commented on why it looks as if it had been wet, to which Zach replied 'Charlotte threw it in a fountain in middle school'. The best part of this museum getting sealed off in 2003 is the fact that no one knows those plans were stolen in the first place, aside from the people involved. This event took up at least two hours of the morning, so lunch time quickly came. Just like in any other school, booths lined up along the edges of the field, varying from food stalls to memorabilia. Luckily, mornings here in Wessman are usually cloudy but not very cloudy. It's just the right amount of clouds to cover the heat of the sun while still allowing light to pass through. 

"What's the event after lunch?" I heard Iris ask. 

"Let me see," Zach rummaged through his leather satchel, with struggle. With a click of his tongue, he pulled out his book, a photography book called Per Strada, and muttered to Iris to hold it for him at the moment. The girl did so cheerfully. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he pulled out a small paper. It is a bingo card of events for the School Open that students can tick or cross out once the event had passed. "This is a good one," he whispered, joy starting to paint his features, "Opening of the Time Capsule." 

Iris handed him back his book, "When was it buried?"

"On the fiftieth anniversary," Zach answered, placing his book back in his satchel, "Twenty years ago."

The seats were placed before the first seven steps to the entrance. In the front row was the headmaster, beside him were Charles, Iris and Zach. Today is one of those days when students aren't forced to wear their school uniforms. Iris was in a long cream skirt and a brown turtleneck, her hair tied up in a ponytail. Charles was a grey coat, with a black inner shirt and grey pants. Zach is dressed in a long brown coat, dark blue inner shirt, black pants and black boots. He's got his camera with him, a different one. Now that he lives with Mr. Philipps, he is free to indulge in his hobbies. He's been the school's photographer since.

Thanks to the Beaux-Arts style of the school, there is no more need for a stage for the podium. I am simply on the landing after the first seven steps and before the three more steps, just right beside the area where the capsule was buried twenty years ago. The headmaster thought it was best if I am the one to announce its opening since I was present when it was buried, not to mention a contributor.

"Twenty years ago," I began, my voice echoing through the microphone, "Students of Wessman School of Art were asked to document life in the early 2000s to give the future generation a glimpse of what has been. And all entries are kept inside this time capsule which we are opening today." I gestured to the metal plate, about half a meter in diameter, that sits in the middle of the landing. The school emblem was engraved in its middle, and the words 'Wessman School of Arts' written right above it. Below the emblem were two circles, each had a year engraved onto it; one says '2003' and the other '2023'. 

I smiled as I watched two maintenance men gently pull the metal plate up. Zach quickly stood from his seat and clicked his camera multiple times as the two men pulled up a metal capsule, now old and beginning to rust. On it was a plate that says "Buried: November 3, 2003; To be opened on: November 3, 2023". The headmaster did the honor of pulling it open. I noted how still new looking it was on the inside compared to its now dirty exterior.

As if on cue, the students lined up in the middle aisle, waiting to receive their packages. Charles and Iris only remained seated, perhaps uninterested in life in the early 2000s, which is understandable when you can travel to that year and experience it first hand. Zach, however, was too busy taking photographs of the event. I smile as I take one package and hand it over to the student in front of me. It went on like this for a few minutes, until I picked up one that is somehow bigger and heavier than most. I pulled out a package that seem to contain something like a book. I passed it on to Zach, who gave me a confused look. I pushed it further to him, nudging him in the stomach. The kid finally accepted the package and handed it over to Iris. 

Soon, we ran out of packages to hand out. I happily watched as the other students, most especially the younger ones--the one born on or after 2003--open theirs. Most of them were polaroids which prompted comments on the fashion--both good and bad comments--with the words 'aesthetic' and 'core' heard here and there. There were some who only held up their diskets and cassette tapes, not knowing any idea what they are. 

I watched as Zach carefully unwrapped his parchment, revealing a book, brown and old, cover facing down. "It's a photography book?" he joyfully asked, looking up at me. I simply stood there in silence and watched as the kid turned it over. His face turned down. "I already have this," he said, disappointed. "'Per Strada by Guido Guidi. I bought it two weeks before entering Wessman in 2019," he chuckled, showing it to his girlfriend, "back when I was still hiding my photography hobby from my father. I secretly saved up some of my allowance for it." Iris passed the book for Charles to see. He held out his hand, retrieving the book from him, "I was too excited for it, it had just released the year prior." His hands hung in midair as his face showed a combination of confusion and horror. "This released only in 2018!" He practically shouted at me as he pulled the book from Charles. 

He turned his attention to the book, opening it with a bit of a struggle--some of the pages had stuck together having been closed and sealed for twenty years. With an almost inaudible creak, the hardbound of the book separated from the first. "What the--" Zach murmured as he examined the old pages. He picked the book up and spun it around so it faces me, and pointed his finger to the bottom left corner of the hardbound, "'Theodore Isaac von Stratmann'," he read. At the bottom left, written in all capital letters is his name, along with his school ID number. "I don't have a book like this: this is mine," he said, looking up at me. 

Iris snatched the book from his hand to examine it on her own. Charles peeked over her shoulder. "This does look like your penmanship," she said, looking at the other boy.

Zach quickly rummaged through his leather satchel and pulled out his copy of Per Strada. He quickly opened it on the first page and placed it side by side to the copy Iris is holding, comparing the penmanship. It's the same. "How did it end up in 2003?" he asked, his eyes fixed on me. 

"You left it," I answered, looking at my feet then at him. "I thought of no other way to return it to you than the time capsule."

I watched as the kid exhaled loudly, blowing some strands of his wavy hair away in the process. He inhaled before opening the pages of the older copy, still examining if it is the same. Halfway through, he stopped, finding a card tucked in between the pages. He held up the card, old and brown, and inspected it. "It's a library check-out card," he looked up at me. 

I nodded, smiling, "That card was my real contribution to the time capsule. I just needed a way to return your book to you."

"So for you," Charles began, "Your glimpse of 'life in the 2000s' is a library check-out card. These weren't even obsolete yet." He chuckled. "We still use them to this day." 

I replied with another nod before motioning to card in Zach's hand. "Read it," I told him. 

Iris laid her chin on his shoulder to take a peek at the library card. Charles moved to the now empty seat on his other side. "'The Wessmans'," Zach began, "I don't remember there's a book about this."

"Keep reading," I said. 

He blew some raspberries before resuming, "Student name: Caroline Melrose von Stratmann, Diana Claire Mansfield, Rohan Choudary--Is he related to Sara?" he looked up at me, and I only motioned for him to continue, "Diego Manriquez-- I don't know who that is, and--what?" he looked up at me again and I again motioned him to continue, "Christopher Marcus von Stratmann?" At this point, Iris and Charles both looked up at me, then to Zach, then back at me. "Who's Christopher?" Zach asked.

"Why are you asking her?" Charles protested. "You're the Stratmann." 

"I don't know a Christopher," he defended himself, "I don't even know three of them. Who are they?" He asked, looking up at me. 

"One seventy-four," I began, clasping my hands together. I felt the cold breeze blow my hair. "It's been one hundred and seventy-four years from that night in Velvet Manor in 1845 when you three went on your little adventure in 2019. Bones decompose in around twenty years. Welcome to the Science of the Skeleton." 

[bllsbailey]

Fetterman's Take on Trump and Pennsylvania Voters Is Bad News for Kamala Harris

Pennsylvania Democrat Sen. John Fetterman continues to be a thorn in his party's side from time to time. This is one of those times. And Kamala Harris and her campaign staff would be wise to listen to him. At issue for the mercurial senator is Donald Trump's relationship with some Keystone State voters, and how they now see the former president — and it's not good news at all for Kamala.

Fetterman not only said Trump has a special hold on his state; he also suggested the hold has grown stronger as a result of the first assassination attempt, which happened in Butler, Pa.

Trump has created a special kind of a hold … and he’s remade the party and he has a special kind of place in Pennsylvania,  and I think that only deepened after that first assassination attempt.

And as is often the case in elections, Fetterman said voter "anger on the ground," which is likely primarily among blue-collar workers, will also be a factor in the state's election.

I also want people to understand … there’s energy and there’s kinds of anger on the ground in Pennsylvania, and people are very committed and strong. Trump is going to be strong and … we have to respect that.

Fetterman refused to bite when he was asked if he planned to give any advice to Harris.

I’m not going to sit down with a sitting vice president and tell her or say ‘Hey, no, no you better.' I’m certainly not going to mansplain that [to] the vice president, and she’s perfectly capable.

Oops. Fetterman was on a good roll, but Harris is "perfectly capable"? At what? 

Flip-flopping like pancakes on a hot griddle? Word salads? Refusing to directly answer direct questions about her policies and the failures of the disastrous Biden-Harris administration? Avoiding interviews and press conferences with real journalists asking hard questions? 

The list goes on, but the notion that Harris is perfectly capable of running an honest campaign, much less serving as president of the United States, is laughable — and scary as hell.

Recent polling in Pennsylvania is all over the proverbial map. Harris is up, "here," Trump is up, "there," and the numbers change daily. The bottom line seems to be a toss-up in the Keystone State, the election results of which could very well decide the election. 

It's All About the Economy, Stupid

As concerns about the state of the economy and inflation continue across the country, with roughly eight out of 10 registered voters (81 percent) saying the economy will be very important to their vote in the election, nowhere is it more important than in Pennsylvania. 

The Trump campaign believes it can pull away some Black and Latino voters from Harris by appealing to minority voters who are socially conservative and worry about the state of the economy.

Biden won Pennsylvania in 2020 over Trump by 1.2 percentage points, while Trump carried the state by less than one percentage point over Hillary Clinton in 2016.

We're all tired of hearing it, but it's almost always the case; Pennsylvania will come down to voter turnout.

[dallasareaopinion]

All conspiracy theories are true, well maybe some more than others

Are aliens demons, are demons aliens, are they separate beings from separate dimensions, do either exist? Well first of all they do somehow someway in some dimension. Second I need to find out which one can cloak itself and run around my dwelling. I swear I saw something run across the room twice. At first I thought it was the dog, then I realized the dog was in another room. The second time just kind of flipped me out.

Anyway I think it is demons because I cannot find my favorite bell to ring. Nothing like a nice chime in the air to soothe the soul. Second our shoe rack is collapsing and of course it cannot be because corporations use shoddy material and all the cracks are because this is a second rate product. Just cannot be a cheap piece of garbage made in wherever. So it must be demons. Who else would make you pull something completely apart to see if it can be repaired?

And all conspiracy theories are true. Just ask the people that believe in them. Some though are more true and I feel one is developing that is scaring the fecal matter out of me. I am talking about Project 2025 brought to you by the same people that say the deep state is out to get us.

And what is worse there are very smart people who don’t seem to realize the depth of the problem. Some people think Donald Trump is the problem. At this point Trump is the puppet and I am not talking the Putin puppet of 2016 which to be honest has some conspiracy theory truth to it. Still though the 2024 problem is some people including some very rich people are using Trump to instigate a complete takeover of our country. He has no clue that he is being used. They are whispering all sorts of things in his ears to rally his troops to elect him. He is desperate to win because he is actually fearful one of these prosecutions might work and put him in jail. He is ready to believe anyone that tells him they can save him. And once he is elected they will be able to control the reigns of government no matter who follows him. Sounds conspiratorial, correct? Well go read the document outlining Project 2025. They ain’t lying.

And yet all the Washingtonians intellectuals on both sides of the aisle aren’t even giving this a second glance. People will disseminate all sorts of madness about Trump and now Biden’s age. They will dive deep into the ramifications of either winning the Presidency, yet they are not addressing the monster behind door number 1. As a democracy we are about to be screwed if Trump wins, but not because of Trump. Yet no one has seen the light. Well John Oliver did, but he spends thirty minutes trying to tell us jokes while putting a flashlight in the cave to see the monster. No elitist intellectual wants to admit he is on to something. Yet you do not have to believe him, but do as he says:  READ THE DOCUMENT!.

Yep they published their plan, at least they did us the favor of proving how stupid we are since it is right under our nose and we aren’t doing anything about it. I still admire and respect these same intellectuals that just cannot hear the rumblings from the dragon in the cave. I wish I was as well read and well published to point out to them what they are missing. Sometimes it helps if you can speak someone’s language to get them to listen to you. Yet for all their education and experience in the world of DC politics they just continue to pontificate on what they expect or what they deem are the problems. They cannot be bothered to look outside the wall surrounding the mindset of DC machinations to realize how dangerous the threat laying at the bottom of the swamp ready to rise and eat them and then spit them out.

And for the rest of the country they are too busy worrying about the things that matter and for the last forty years have wrought on us. Our savings destroyed in 2009, our sanity destroyed in 2020 by a real pandemic that no one to this day knows what to do if another one came along, and the post pandemic financial disaster known as inflation that has eaten up our wallets, savings, paychecks, and is headed for our children’s future. And in total you have the ever increasing wealth gap, the deterioration of education, the constant decline of healthcare along with the constant rise of healthcare costs, the slow withering of social security and medicare, the increase costs of any insurance you might purchase, and the list goes on.

And for some reason unknown to any sane person the Democrats and Republicans think that either Biden or Trump is the person that can steer this country to a better future. Oh yeah baby, conspiracy theories are all too real and we are staring at one large monumental disaster that cannot be explained in any rational way. The swamp monster known as Project 2025 and the ignorance of DC is real and it is coming to eat democracy alive.

And if you think that I am a chicken little running around screaming the sky is falling, well then don’t complain to me when a huge chunk of it hits your life because it will. And what I am fearful of is that it has for many people they just don’t realize it yet since we have had it too easy for too long. And that histrically is when things do start to fall apart.

I hope that we can keep this great country going, but it is going to take some work and some people needing to wake up that we need new candidates and new parties like yesterday.

You can blame many things on demons or aliens, but you cannot blame our self destruction on them. We are staring it in the face. Or is all this just a mirage to keep these same demons and aliens entertained. Either way I still want a better future for me even though I am old, yet more importantly for my children and grandchildren and on.

[transdaughterofthesun]

Can I be real with you stranger on the interwebs? Ever since 2020, I think, that light left me. I was born in 99. I don't remember 9/11. I don't even remember 2008. I only had a vague idea of what the war on terror was, before that just became a fact of life. It's a stupid war that means nothing. But hey, at least people can still come together? Then 2016 hit. My high school teachers would troll each other by putting Trump campaign magnets in each others classrooms always telling us, "Yeah don't worry about it. The States will form together and kick him out to the curb. This'll just be a funny little time in history." Their moods all soured when the results came in, and you could tell that a large portion of their hope died. Between that and covid, a lot of bad shit happened, but I always thought, hey once something effects them, they'll come together. And credit where it's due, they did slightly, but much fewer then expected. Don't analyze the numbers too much, just be happy he's out.

Then covid happened. 2 years we saw people dying day after day, and instead of coming together, people fought. They refused to listen to scientists. The antivax movement reared its ugly head. The fucking freedom convoys. The selfishness of corporations. The poor, downtrodden and vulnerable, sacrificed to capitalism and conspiracy theories. Now there are wars and genocides, and even the sight of murdered children isn't enough to band people together.

I wish I could say it was only my light that was stolen, but it's so much more than that. I used to love humanity. I used to think that we would get to see the stars and visit other planets. I don't feel this way anymore, and I hate it. There's a part of me that so wishes to go back, but every time I even try to connect with the world, more atrocities happen. My own government is now trying to institute anti trans policies which would figuratively, and most likely literally kill me due to depression. All that hope died, and in its place is just a smoldering ember, waiting for something to come along and either light it a flame in anger, or get smothered to death by sadness.

remember when i was a bright-eyed 20-year old and i thought i would get a career in the art or game industry and live a moderately happy life alone but unbothered

[softrozene]

“Please Don’t Leave Me.” - Charles

From an old event I did called the Sad Yee Haw Hours: 

Anon asked: “Please don’t leave me.” But it’s coming from Charles 😱 

rdr2 masterlist

I can’t change it to fluff I can’t change it to fluff I can’t change it fluff I can’t change it to fluff  

Sweet, sweet, anon. I thought this one was going to be a piece of cake before I realized that making Charles hurt intentionally hurts me LMAO. So A+ for you. I struggled so badly not to put any fluff. Enjoy!

Originally published on May 16, 2020

Charles Smith x Reader (Gender-Neutral/Non-Binary)

Scenario Starter Number 10: “Please don’t leave me.”

Warnings: Angst, I have sinned for making Charles sad, this was the ultimate request that has done me dirty and it is only an average amount of angst lmao

Words: ~500

-

“Please don’t leave me.”

As the words leave him he grabs your wrist so gently. His fingertips already rubbing soothing circles along your inner wrist. It makes your heart stop. Your whole body is begging you to stay with him. Your soul feels like it is crying for him.

You are visibly shaking as you decide to test him one more time. “Are you going to stop fighting?”

You dare to look at him. He looks conflicted and mostly saddened by your threat and attempt to leave. His lips open to say something before he closes them tightly. The tears finally fall from your eyes as you laugh.

“I figured as much. You always said it was ‘us’ in the relationship yet you have never chosen me. When I asked you to leave the gang you chose them. Now you are participating in fights? The Charles I know would never do something this stupid,” You murmur.

His grip tightens for a moment but he is aware that this is a losing battle. He fucked up by not listening to you.

“I have always done what I could to protect you,” He whispers.

His voice trembles as he tries to conceal his emotions. It’s always hard for him when it concerns you though. You give him a sad smile.

“I always appreciated you protecting me. I want to stay but I can’t while you give in to whatever this is. It’s not like you and you don’t wish to stop so I must go,” You whisper back.

You move to hold his hand with your free one and he takes it. His fingers already trying to memorize the way you feel. His eyes are misty and his lip keeps trembling. It is the most you have ever seen him give emotion besides your past intimate moments with him.

“I’ll write to you,” You say moving the wrist he is holding.

He slowly let’s go of it and just stares at you. You peck the hand you are holding and he quickly says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Charles,” You reply.

It’s not enough and he knows this. You finally let go of him and pick up your bag. As your fingertips touch the door he tries again. This time his voice completing lacking any strength he had once possessed.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You almost break but instead, you say once more, “I’ll write to you.”

You leave out the door and the two of you finally let your visions blur with tears. You were supposed to be the person who would never leave him. Charles yearns to run after you but the logical and composed side of him knows you are right. He hasn’t been the same since the gang split and he needs to find peace with your decision even if it fucking hurts like hell.