#i tried not to wax poetic but i have a lot of thoughts and feelings abt her11!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

percivaljacksons · 15 days ago

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those little town blues (pt 1)

the modern percabeth ghost whisperer au. girl, at this point you have to trust me. first 5k or so as i edit the big mama doc for ao3. sorry not sorry to tease! i'd give this section a t rating

“For someone who just moved here, you really know your way around,” Piper says. “I absolutely thought you were taking us to the wrong platform.”

Two descending notes play through the speaker above their heads. The Q train’s doors slide closed. The breaks release in a puffy exhale and the car lurches as they begin to move out of the Canal St station.

Annabeth shrugs. “I like research,” she says. “Figured if I was going to do the whole ‘move to New York as a broke twenty-something,’ I might as well be prepared for it.”

“What a load of baloney,” Percy says from somewhere behind her. “You were walking right for the Downtown platform, too. You could say ‘thank you,’ by the way.”

Piper doesn’t react—of course she doesn’t. She just tells Annabeth with a sheepish smile, “more than I did. God, this is so embarrassing, but I really did Uber everywhere for my first few weeks.”

“Asshole,” Percy cuts in again. “I can’t stand people who do that.”

Annabeth kicks one foot back as subtly as possible. She doesn’t feel it connect with his shin, but he does quiet down.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” Annabeth reassures her. “Silena said you moved here—what, two months before me?”

“Something like that.”

“Plus, I did a lot of exploring in the past few weeks and got turned around a lot of times. You’re seeing a well made facade.”

“Is that how you found that Wo Hop?” Piper asks. “God, I can’t get over that tofu. And it was in some random basement!”

While Piper waxes poetic about their lunch, Annabeth’s eyes slide to the left. It’s not an overly crowded subway car. There’s a couple pouring over the map on the wall, a short man reading a book in the seat parallel to the window, and around a dozen solo commuters buried in phones or listening to music.

But to Annabeth’s left, leaning against the door, is a man with short cropped hair and an angular jaw. His button up shirt is untucked, wrinkled, and saturated with blood. She has to breathe through her mouth because she can smell it wafting off of him. From the corner of her eye, she can spot the elderly woman trying to read over the shoulder of the man by the window, ranting a rant he can’t hear. And, of course, right behind her is Percy, dripping wet.

“I really hope you’re not about to take credit for finding Wo Hop on your own,” he says.

“...in an article, right?” Piper asks, forcing Annabeth to tune back in again.

“Yeah, about the James Beard Foundation Awards,” Annabeth says. “It’s officially an American Classic.”

“Fucking typical,” Percy says. “I’m not telling you where that halal cart is now.”

“So cool,” Piper enthuses. “I didn’t even realize how much food there was out there that I’ve never even tried, you know? This city is crazy.”

“Best city in the world,” Percy and Annabeth say in perfect unison.

Of course, only Annabeth and Percy know that.

It started on her third day in New York, because Annabeth has, in general, always had completely shit luck. With a week until her new job began and her boxes (almost) unpacked, she woke up to a sliver of perfect blue sky visible between the brick walls outside her window and decided to spend the day exploring.

While she waited for the shower to heat up, she drank a glass of water—straight from the tap—and looked around her joke of a studio apartment. Despite the near negative space she now called her own for the next twelve months, her singular closet was pitifully half empty.

Annabeth frowned into her water. Half full? She’d never had many clothes, was the point. The t-shirts and jeans she’d favored in high school had stopped fitting once she started doing track and field more seriously, and her college dorm room hadn’t offered an abundance of space, either.

She wandered back to the bathroom and stuck a hand under the tap. Only lukewarm. The previous two days' experience told her she had another minute before it would get hot, so she took out her phone and googled thrift stores nyc.

The results were almost too many to believe. She shook her head.

“Best city in the world,” she said to herself, and finally stripped down to step into the shower.

In the end, she chose a thrift store in lower Manhattan, a little to the east so it was on the yellow line and she wouldn’t have to transfer trains. It was close to Washington Square Park, too, so she could check that off her architecture bucket list. Just like that, she had a plan for the day—and Annabeth loved having a plan.

She flew down the four flights of stairs, keeping her eyes on her feet so she wouldn’t get drawn into whatever was going on with the man who always lingered on the second floor landing. He left something in his jacket pocket, but Annabeth had never stuck around long enough to hear what it was or who he needed to tell. She’d get around to it eventually. Probably.

After riding the N train two stops in the wrong direction, she managed to get on a Manhattan and Brooklyn bound W. It was all part of the learning curve. The car was near empty, so close to the origin in Astoria, so she found a seat by the window and watched as the lower buildings of northwest Queens morphed into the skyscrapers of Long Island City before the train finally went underground. She pulled a book out of her tote bag before long and focused her gaze on the paper, even though the letters were swirling around the page so aggressively that she couldn’t read a word.

Her dyslexia always got worse when she was stressed. She turned a page in her book, a perfect pantomime of reading, so that the three ghosts standing within fifteen feet of her don’t realize that she can both see and hear them.

Spirits, earthbound souls, whatever. They were all ghosts, really, haunting people or places or things. She thought maybe they were haunting this specific subway car, except a man in a navy suit got off at 59th street and one of them—the woman in bright red lipstick and a mink coat—followed him off.

Annabeth kept looking at her book, flipping forward a page every minute or so. She had long ago perfected the half-glazed over expression that tricked most ghosts into thinking she was just like everyone else—unable to see them. It was a small part of the reason she’d decided to move to New York: everyone here had that expression on. Everyone here avoided eye contact on the sidewalk and went about their business, so maybe—just maybe—Annabeth wouldn’t acquire her usual ‘rude and standoffish’ reputation.

One of the ghosts sat down next to her. He was mumbling in a language she didn't recognize. Hungarian, maybe—a relief. She wouldn’t have to try so hard to not react if he said something appalling.

Annabeth turned to the next page in her book. She didn’t even remember what it was about. The stops got more frequent in Manhattan, crawling at times only five blocks between stations after Times Square, before the W finally pulled into 8th Street-NYU.

Annabeth put her book back into her tote and stood, edging around the ghost’s legs with a mumbled, “excuse me.”

She realized her mistake two steps later, when the voice got panicked and excited, rapid-fire consonant heavy speech trying to get her attention again. Annabeth kept her head down and walked towards the closest exit like she knew it would take her where she wanted. It worked, either because he thought it was a fluke or he was tied enough to that train car to stay put, and when she walked up into the autumn sunlight she was once again alone.

Not unhaunted. She was never really unhaunted, but she could be—however briefly—alone.

Maps told her that the Buffalo Exchange was close, only a few blocks south. She made her way there, realized she was on the wrong side of the street, and blatantly jaywalked to get to her destination. One thing she certainly would not miss about California was driving and cars and mechanics. She hoped Clarisse would love the hunk of bolts Annabeth couldn’t have more joyously parted with.

The thrift store wasn’t too crowded inside, because it was around 11 on a Tuesday, so Annabeth took her time. She started in the back, sifting through women’s cut jeans and giving up quickly, moving to the men’s section in the front where the inseams were longer. She found a few potential successes, all dark wash enough that she could probably dress them up for work, and made her way towards one of the circular clothing racks in the middle of the shop.

Annabeth hadn’t lived on the east coast since she was twelve, but she remembered the cold bite of the winters. She didn’t have nearly enough sweaters to get her through January and February, only a few short months away. A few hoodies with stains and holes got flipped past, but eventually she came across a maroon crewneck with a faded lettering that said MONTAUK. She threw it on over her shirt and managed to catch her reflection in a nearby mirror—exactly the kind of baggy she’s always preferred. Perfect.

“That’s mine,” someone said.

Annabeth looked over and gasped. Standing next to her, soaked from head to foot, was a guy about her age. He was a bit taller, with dark hair plastered to his head and green eyes so bright they forced the air out of Annabeth’s lungs. Every inch of him was dripping water in the middle of the perfectly dry Buffalo Exchange.

“You can see me,” he realized, eyes getting wider. “You can actually—holy fuck.”

She bought the sweater, in the end, because she stopped letting ghosts decide what she was and wasn’t going to do a long time ago. Percy—I’m Percy, by the way, can you still see me?— didn’t seem to mind, even as she ignored him and checked out with her new pants and sweater.

“I know you can hear me,” Percy said, following her out the door. “You’re not a very good actor, you know.”

Annabeth pulled out her headphones and slipped them on. She fiddled with her phone, miming a call, and finally turned to face the very wet ghost beside her.

“Percy, you said?” She asked.

He grinned. “Yes! Yeah, I’m Percy. I can’t believe you can hear me. It’s, like, so great to talk to someone.”

“I’m Annabeth.” She didn’t reach out to shake his hand, because they wouldn’t be able to anyway. “I’m going to the park. Want to come?”

They walked the two blocks to the north side of the park, until Annabeth stood directly under Stanford White’s famous arch. She knew it already, of course—the Tuckahoe marble used to construct it, the fact that it commemorated the centennial of George Washington’s presidential address in 1789—but Annabeth’s favorite thing about architecture isn’t facts or materials. It’s the way she feels looking at it; it’s something about the innate nature of human beings and the way they just can’t help their desire to create.

She could see Percy out of the corner of her eye, watching her. As she stood there, her gaze still fixed upward, someone in a purple t-shirt walked right through him.

“Okay,” she finally said. “What’s your deal? Normally I’ve gotten a whole life story by now.”

“Normally,” he repeated. “This happen to you a lot?”

“Look, do you see a white light?” Annabeth asked, already losing her patience.

“A what?”

“God, I can really pick ‘em,” Annabeth muttered to herself. “A white light. Bright, blinding even. Maybe a loved one standing there waiting for you? Walk into it.”

“I—what?”

“Unless there’s something you’ve left unfinished?” Annabeth prompted. It usually went smoother if the ghost came to terms on their own, but this whole conversation was messing with Annabeth’s plan for the day. She wanted it over and done with.

“What are you talking about?” Percy asked, his accent hitting harder than it had before. His ah vowel was like an A and U and W smushed together. “Why are you the only one who can see me?”

Annabeth closed her eyes. “Fuck,” she said. “Seriously? This is just my luck.” She turned back to Percy, kind of vaguely relishing how no one around them seemed to care that she was talking to thin air. “You’re dead.”

Percy blinked at her. A drop of water made its way down the arch of his nose. “What?”

“I can see ghosts. Spirits. People who haven’t yet moved on.” She let that sink in for a moment, then added, “like you.”

“Moved on to what?” He asked, his voice getting louder with pure panic.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said. “I’m not dead. I just have the pleasure of seeing all of you on your journey in between.”

“Fuck. What the fuck?” Percy started to pace, his hands on his head. “I can’t be dead! That’s such bullshit. I’ve never even left the tri-state area! And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, lady—”

“Annabeth.”

“—Annabeth, because there ain’t no fuckin’ light, alright? There’s just this stupid park and a bunch of asshole NYU students walking right through me, and apparently, the only person who can see me is a goddamn Yankees fan, which is fucking rich. And!” He turned back to her, an almost triumphant expression on his face. “And I bet you you’re not from here, am I right? No shot.”

“I’m from…” Annabeth trailed off. She could’ve said Virginia, or the Bay Area, or something else. In the end, she just confirmed his suspicion. “I’m not from here, you’re right. This is my third day in New York.”

That made him laugh uproariously, too dramatic to be earnest, his hands flung out to the sides. “Of course! A fucking transplant in a Yankees hat. I can hardly believe my luck.”

With him standing facing her once more, Annabeth finally saw the logo made dark by his wet t-shirt. A baseball with dark blue skyline and orange piping, Mets written out across the front.

“Are you done?” Annabeth asked. “I want to go see the narrowest house in the city next.”

“I’m not a tour guide,” he seethed.

“Which way is Bedford Street?”

He pointed behind him. “Like, six blocks that way.”

And so Annabeth’s first friend in the big city was a chronically damp, kind of asshole ghost named Percy.

“Silena said Piper liked you,” Clarisse says. They’re playing Battleship online as they FaceTime, both unwilling to admit that they want to talk for the sake of talking, and certainly unwilling to admit they might miss each other.

It’s one thing to move across the country to an apartment you’ve never actually seen for the sake of a life you think you might like, and another to do it knowing you’ll leave behind the two best friends you’ve made in your entire twenty-two years on Earth.

That are still alive, at least.

“She was cool,” Annabeth says. “So different from Silena, though. We got greasy Chinese food.”

Clarisse snorts. “Uh, yeah. Duh. Get sunk, by the way.” Her missile lands in open water. “Seriously? What the hell.”

“Be better,” Annabeth replies, confidently clicking on G3. Sure enough, a tiny explosion graphic goes off on G3.

“What the—is there someone behind me giving you clues? I know that’s how you kept winning poker night in junior year—”

“I can’t see ghosts through FaceTime, that would be ridiculous,” Annabeth scoffs.

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Clarisse scowls. “Sure.” One of her shots finally connects, but Annabeth’s still smiling, two ships in the lead.

“Did I tell you I’ve got a new one?” Annabeth asks, pulling her fidget cube out from its drawer and flicking one side of it.

“A Casper? No.”

“His name’s Percy. He’s wet.”

“Is that some kind of horrible New York slang?”

“What?” Annabeth laughs. “No, he’s actually wet. Like, dripping water.”

“That’s new.”

“Plus, he had no idea he was dead. Bizarre.”

Clarisse frowns. Clarisse always looks like she’s frowning, so it’s really hard to tell when she actually is, but at this point Annabeth’s had years of practice. “That’s happened before,” she says.

Annabeth gets a flash of sun-bleached blond hair and that awful scar in her mind’s eye before she manages to shove it back into the box in the corner of her mind. “S’not common, though,” she says. “Usually means the death was traumatic.”

“Not to play Silena,” Clarisse says slowly, finally managing to figure out which way Annabeth’s submarine is pointing, “but should you be doing this?”

“Talking to you?” Annabeth snarks. Her next shot misses.

“Getting wrapped up in helping a ghost your first few weeks in New York. Isn’t that why you left California? Oh, get fucked, I knew that was your battleship.”

Annabeth shuts that right down. “I left because I got a job. I knew New York would have a lot of earthbound spirits; that was kind of a given, it’s huge. And yeah, I did say I was going to try and focus on me a little more, but…I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

Clarisse looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that. “He’s…nice?” She asks.

Annabeth laughs. “Uh, no. I’m not sure I would be if I just found out I was dead, so.” She shrugs. “I won’t be able to help him cross over until he starts to remember more, anyway. Googling ‘Percy NYC’ got me a dollar pizza place in the West Village and some place called Percy’s Tavern that isn’t even open anymore.”

“Silena’s going to be so pissed that all we talked about on our call is your new familiar.”

Annabeth sinks Clarisse’s final ship. “No, she’s not.”

Clarisse raises her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Annabeth smirks. “Because you get to tell her that the new ghost is, like, seriously hot.”

Clarisse just shakes her head, grinning. “She is going to love that. Damn. Well, good luck. I’ll call whenever my ego can handle a rematch.”

“Okay,” Annabeth says softly. “Bye.”

“Love you. No homo.”

Before Annabeth can reply, she gets hung up on.

“Typical,” she says to her empty studio apartment. No one, alive or dead, replies.

“Alright,” Annabeth says as she steps out of her office building, her headphones on. “Where am I getting lunch?”

“I’m not telling you,” Percy sulks. “You just abuse my knowledge. I spent a lifetime accumulating this stuff, only to give it away to some yuppie. Barf.”

Annabeth picks a direction and starts walking. “I read that Ess-a-Bagel is good,” she says, already knowing what will happen next with only a week and a half of experience.

“Overrated,” Percy says. He can’t seem to help himself. “Like, it’s good, but they only put the seeds n’ shit on one side. Shmear options are okay,” he adds a little begrudgingly.

“Like, cream cheese?”

“Like, cream cheese?” Percy mocks, his voice high-pitched and whiny. “If you ask for them to scoop out your bagel, I’m actually going to start haunting you.”

“As opposed to what this is,” Annabeth murmurs to herself, well aware that he can hear her.

“Hey! I’m, like, super chill. I haven’t even tried to get your lights to flicker.”

“You’ve never even appeared in my apartment,” Annabeth acquiesces. “Or at work.”

He shrugs, falling into step beside her. “Seems rude.”

Annabeth almost stops in the middle of the sidewalk, she’s so surprised. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“Are the people you see always rude?”

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s more like…it’s all on their terms. No one’s ever been that concerned about appearing in the middle of my calc final, for example.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly.” Despite having the light, she looks both ways before joining the crowd in crossing 6th. One of the idling cars honks at her.

Percy flips the car off. It doesn’t make a difference to anyone but her, but she appreciates it. “If you want to spend too much money on a bagel, I’m not going to stop you,” he tells her.

Annabeth walks into Herald Square; she’d rather go through a tiny park than down the crowded sidewalk. “Where would you go for a bagel?”

“Absolute Bagels. 108 and Broadway.”

She snorts out a laugh. “You knew that answer way too quickly.”

“I’m tired of these bougie, overpriced bagels! Absolute is good enough I drag my ass to the west side—that’s how you know it’s legit.”

“So you’re from the east side,” Annabeth follows, nodding. “Okay, that’s something. Remember anything more specific?”

“Yeah.” Percy grins proudly, pushing his wet bangs out of his face. “El Barrio, baby! Proud of it. Just off 2nd and…” His grin fades. “Shit. Goddamn it.”

“It’s okay,” Annabeth soothes. “That’s something. I’m assuming that’s…a Hispanic neighborhood?”

“Spanish Harlem,” he says. “East side, north of, like, 96.” He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “These days, north of 110.”

They’re already on the other side of Herald Square; Percy picks up into a jog. Annabeth follows suit, only realizing that he’s trying to catch the light before it changes a few seconds later. They make it to the other side and slow back to a walk.

“If you want,” Annabeth offers, “I could go there. With you, I mean. We could walk around, maybe spark a memory.”

“You’d do that?” Percy asks, his voice almost severe in its sudden quiet volume.

Annabeth shrugs. She pauses on the corner, barely a moment of hesitation, but Percy points diagonally to the side of the street she wants to be on. With a wince of thanks, she says, “I want to see more of the city. Might as well check off a good deed while I’m at it.”

“Well, I can make it worth your while,” he says with a confident nod. “D’you like Italian food?”

“Am I human?”

“Okay, so we’ll swing by Patsy’s, then. Oh, or Sam’s! And that bakery with the killer conchas—”

“I have no idea what that is, but I’m sold,” Annabeth says. “Why does Spanish Harlem have Italian food?”

He shrugs, sending tiny flicks of water flying. “Dunno. Better Italian food than Little Italy, though.”

“Haven’t seen it yet,” Annabeth says, pushing her way into the surprisingly large bagel shop and immediately struggling to focus.

“It’s mostly gone, honestly. Hey, you good?”

“Hm?” Annabeth blinks away from the menu behind the counter. “Oh, yeah, it’s just loud in here. You weren’t kidding about the cream cheese.”

Percy doesn’t say much as they wait in line, or as she orders—toasted sesame bagel with olive cream cheese—but he sort of squints his eyes, like he’s sizing her up.

“What?” She hisses out of the corner of her mouth as the cashier rings up her order.

Percy shrugs, the movement of his shoulders just barely visible out of the corner of her eye. “Nothing.”

She raises as much of an eyebrow as she dares, smiling quickly at the cashier, tapping her credit card, and hoping to get back outside as quickly as possible.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Annabeth says once they’re on their way again. The bagel is hot even through the paper bag it’d been stuffed in.

Percy moves like he wants to grab the door for her, then awkwardly follows her as she jerks it open herself. “I just think you’re a sociopath for getting olive cream cheese.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Ever heard of not yucking someone else’s yum?”

“Nope. Where we headed?”

“I thought we’d sit in the park?”

“The squirrels are going to maul you.”

“Well, you’ve never seen me fight before.”

Privately, even as Percy laughs, she casts a few suspicious glances at lingering squirrels as they make their way into the park. Most are high in the trees or lingering around the trash cans. She picks a free table that’s far away from both, sits down, and kicks out the empty chair so that Percy can sit down, too.

“I feel like a food critic,” she says, unwrapping her lunch. She opens the bagel using two hands to get the visual, her stomach rumbling at the sight of cream cheese going a little runny from being sandwiched between two warm halves of bagel. “Except kind of like I’m cheating, you know? I haven’t had to look up any new things to try in two weeks.”

“You’re welcome,” Percy says. He rubs at one eye and flicks the water off his hand after. “But I feel like you should know that I’m not telling you everything.”

Annabeth gasps in mock offence. “But you’re so endeared by me.”

“Lie. I’m living vicariously through you.”

“By not telling me everything?” Annabeth asks cheekily, taking her first, relatively heavenly bite.

“You know what?” Percy says, clearly trying to sound pissed off but failing by laughing halfway through his sentence. He flicks some water at her, and Annabeth swears she can feel it land on her arm.

“What’re these big secrets you’ve been keeping?” She asks. “It’s not like I’ve gotten food poisoning or anything.”

Percy sighs, still kind of smiling. “Well, then they wouldn’t be secrets, would they? Gotta keep some stuff for the locals.”

Annabeth pouts. Percy rolls his eyes.

“Fine, whatever.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing back across the street. “You didn’t have to wait on line in there.”

Annabeth chews slowly, trying to figure out what’s been lost in translation. “I…ordered in person?” She says. “I didn’t use, like, an app or something.”

Percy looks just as confused. “Yeah, I was there. I’m saying you could’ve skipped the line.”

“No, you said I didn’t need to be online.”

“Yeah,” he repeats a little slower. “You didn’t have to wait on the line. Have you, like, stopped being able to hear me?”

“Who says wait on the line?” Annabeth asks incredulously. “You wait in a line, Percy.”

“Everybody says that! There’s an invisible line on the ground, and we all stand on it.”

Annabeth takes a bite without looking away from him, wondering how she ended up here. “I’ve literally never heard that before in my life,” she says through her mouthful. “Online is the internet. You wait in a line. I live in a city. I ride in a car.”

“You get on a bus. I ride on the subway. And I wait,” Percy says, leaning in, “on line.”

“Maybe you’re not dead,” Annabeth theorizes. “Maybe you’re a demon raised from hell, come to torment me. Maybe you’re from an alternate universe!”

“This is what I get for revealing the schmear only express line at Ess-a-Bagel.” Percy shakes his head. “I should’a known.”

“What?” Annabeth asks. “I didn’t have to wait in that stupid fucking line?”

Percy throws his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

“Tell me that before next time. You had to wait in the line, too.”

He shrugs. “Not so bad. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

It sends her into a little bit of a tailspin. Sure, he’s actively dripping water on an otherwise dry and sunny day, but he’s around her age and died relatively recently, if the in-style cut of his jeans is anything to go by. He’s easy to talk to. It’s easy to forget he’s dead.

Annabeth takes another bite of her bagel. It’s a little strange that the sesame seeds are only on one side, but it’s just the right amount of chewy and pretty big for what she paid. The olive cream cheese is more of a disappointment, but she’s not going to tell Percy that.

“This is really good,” she says. “Your place is better? Or are you going to gatekeep that now?”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like Absolute is a big secret, they’ve got a crazy line all weekend.”

“Good to know.”

“I don’t fuck around when it comes to bagels, Annabeth. Honestly, have any of my food recommendations let you down?”

“No,” she agrees. “Why do you think you remember all of that so well?”

He shrugs, his eyes sliding to the side. Annabeth doesn’t think he’s particularly interested in the squirrel eating a cigarette butt, so he probably just wants to avoid looking at her. It strikes her somewhere beneath her ribs, how sad it is, to wander around your home with only the innocuous pieces left.

Not for the first time, she wonders what will happen when she dies. Will someone see her? Will she even know that she’s dead? Will she be here, or in San Francisco, or on Berkeley’s campus, or back in Richmond? Has she ever known a place her soul would cling to?

“What’s your favorite thing about New York?” Annabeth asks, deciding suddenly to change tactics. “Since you keep insisting us transplants don’t know—”

“—know shit about shit,” Percy finishes. He looks back at her. “Uh, it’s the best city in the world.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “I know that. That’s why I moved here. You could argue that means I love it more than you.”

“Shut up,” Percy says, his face screwed up with indignation. “No, it doesn’t!”

“Great comeback,” she drawls.

“Okay, I love the people,” Percy answers. “I love New Yorkers, and the way we treat each other.”

“Like?” Annabeth prompts him.

“We leave each other alone, but if I’m short a dollar on groceries there’s almost always someone who’ll cover me. And I just…I love walking places, and the subway, and I love it when I hop the turnstyle so smooth you can’t even tell I jumped it. I love the old guys who play chess in the park. The graffiti. I love riding the bus at night and Biggie, and shitting on Jersey and the goddamn Mets. I love not giving a fuck, I guess.”

“Well, that’s things you love, but what’s your favorite?” Annabeth pushes. “Mine is easy, it’s the—”

“—the architecture, I know,” Percy finishes again. “I like that, too. I…well, maybe it’s the food. The food here is the best.”

Percy has admitted to never going anywhere else, so Annabeth doesn’t really know how he knows it’s the best, but she doesn’t call him on it.

“But my favorite…” Percy goes a little still, like he’s remembered something. “My favorite thing when I was a kid is gone now,” he says.

“Yeah?” Annabeth prompts

“Yeah. It was on the west side, if you can believe it. When you got off an uptown 1 at 79th, if you went up the staircase that took you to the northwest corner—there used to be a Circuit City there, next to the DSW.”

“There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Annabeth mutters.

“Yeah, it closed ages ago, but it was in this little, two story building. And it meant, when you were going up the stairs, if you looked up all you could see was the sky. Like the sky was the ocean and you got to go down the ladder and jump into it.” He goes quiet for a moment. Then, “now there’s an ugly fucking apartment building.”

Annabeth resists the urge to scoff. “You think any new building is ugly.”

“That’s not true! I like the Jenga building downtown.”

“The Jenga…” Annabeth thinks. “You mean 56 Leonard?”

“Is 56 Leonard the building that looks like a wonky Jenga tower?”

“I—” She sighs. “Yes. But it’s a Herzog & de Meuron.”

“You’re a hotdog and demure one.”

“You’re not that funny.”

He shrugs. “I dunno, you’re smiling.”

You’re flirting, Annabeth realizes. You’re flirting with a ghost, and he’s flirting back.

“I can show you the ugly building some time,” he offers, blinking some water out of his eyelashes. “It’s right by the Natural History Museum. You like museums, right?”

“My second favorite thing about New York,” Annabeth confirms, and just manages to stop herself from saying it’s a date.

Her dad texts her on a Saturday morning, the first time he’s reached out since she moved to the east coast, and his message reads [ Hi, Annabeth. I hope you’re settling in well at your new job. How is New York? Let me know when you might be free to talk.]

She doesn’t respond for three days. What’s there to say? She wishes she could explain to him that you can walk south on the east side of Broadway, from Grand to Howard, and you can look up and see the top of One World Trade peak through the buildings. You can look down so you won’t trip over the subway grate, and when you look back up again 56 Leonard has taken its place.

She could tell him that if you walk past the entrance to the NQWR to the corner of Canal, you can see all of Herzog & de Meuron’s creativity, bottom to top, and you can decide that from then on out you’ll be calling it the Jenga Tower. She could type it out, or even try and call and inevitably tell him in a voicemail, but he wouldn’t get it. He’d probably say something ridiculous, like ask what Jenga was, or tell her about an exhibit that has something to do with planes that’s soon to arrive in the tri-state area, and Annabeth would remember why she hadn’t reached out either.

Instead, she tells him about work, and doesn’t talk about buildings or bagel shops or the bitter and charming conundrum of a ghost that’s taken to appearing at her shoulder as she makes a city her father hates her home.

#ghost whisperer au #my writing #percabeth #percabeth au #sorry to be chaotic again! but its fun #if u like a part of this and tell me what part i will immediately go into a fugue state where i write nonstop for many days #xoxo

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bridalgirl · 3 months ago

Note

equius x reader headcanons? hes my favorite guy and i love him a lot

[how i feel making requests]

"not out of desire or shame but some subconscious impulse to feel pain"

behind all the muscle and his barely-kept-together mental state, is someones whos very, sickly sweet.

he doesnt show it in the most direct ways. maybe not the most socially acceptable ways, either. but hes in love with you. dear jegus believe him, he truly is.

when he met you he was initially taken aback. his etiquette and morals failing him because you were so different. and so intoxicating. and so nice.

he needed a towel.

but, seriously, it took awhile before he actually took his feelings seriously. first he floated around you, more often sitting at his computer, drumming his fingers and waiting for a message to come in.

hed ask all his friends (from every caste) about you, waxing poetically about how you spoke, how you behaved, how you looked.

ofcourse, in the early days those admiring comments were mixed with some hints of distaste. old habits die hard, and no matter what caste you are- lord forbid if youre human- he'll have some choice words to say about the colour of your blood. but, really, its all nothing to him. every negative thought gets mixed with the positive ones, and the longer he talks, the negative ones just.. fade away.

either nepeta or karkat would tell him that he seemed oddly interested in you. he tried his hardest to ignore that.

but with every message you exchanged with eachother, something seemed to blossom inside of him. you kept catching him off guard and left him fumbling with his feelings. though he;d be too stubborn to tell you about what he felt, ofcourse.

but when you start dating? boy. boy. goodluck getting this man away from you.

hes by your side. always.

personally i think his biggest love languages are quality time and acts of service. he loves being useful to you. whether it'd be picking up groceries or fending off creeps. this man can do it all.

speaking of a) groceries. hes a strong boy, as we all know. i think hed like to show off a bit, bashfully deny you from carrying things yourself and instead doing it for you. he also likes it when other people see him carrying things for you- it fills him with an odd amount of pride. he can do things for you. help you.

and b) creeps. equius will be your personal guard dog, whether he means to or not. hes a very protective person, and you only have to snap your fingers or he'll snap and lunge and bite at whoever is bothering you. whether thats literally or figuratively is up for debate.

#homestuck #homestuck fan fic #homestuck x reader #x reader #equius zahhak #equius homestuck #equius zahhak x reader

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yuurivoice · 5 months ago

Text

We've hit the stage of Echoes of Evalas' creation that I'm spending a lot of my quiet time with scenes and characters, including time that is usually occupied by...well, nothing creative. At least, it hasn't been creative time in a long while.

Some of the dearest and most important moments of my young creative daydreaming was before bed. If I might overshare, it was specifically as I lay in bed and tried to drown out unpleasantness I'd hear from other rooms of the house. I'll spare you the details.

I didn't even have music at the time, though in later years as I became a depressed teen, I'd throw some music on my computer to fantasize and fall asleep to.

Oftentimes, these stories and characters I'd contemplate were favorites from various things I enjoyed. In time they'd adapt and evolve into something of my own, in worlds and stories of my own making.

Sometimes it wasn't so grand. There were no sweeping narratives or adventures. Just some self insert character being comforted by a friend or a lover.

Recent nights, I've thrown on my EoE playlist and let my mind wander. I haven't really done that in a long time. Haven't had the need to these days. I'm not running from much. Life is quiet. But as I start to turn over more stones and find what's beneath some of the characters and themes I'm exploring, I've found myself here again.

I don't know if anyone will love what I am making, and I never have. Every person who has let my characters and stories into their hearts means a whole lot to me, though. I've not forgotten when all of this was nothing more than a comfort to myself to soothe away all my fear and loneliness.

As it all starts to come together I'm seeing a stark difference between where I am at as a writer and creative in general in comparison to BitterSweet Chapter 1, as I've revisited it recently.

The pieces were there but it's so clear to me that I didn't have the conviction that I do now. I didn't have the comfort or security of knowing that I can take chances and be bold. I thought I had to color within the lines, and lacked the confidence to really let it rip.

So as much as I've been looking forward, I've also looked back. Further back than I typically like to.

When Charlie said he never thought he'd be this old, that was real shit man. I was a morbid kid. I have a crystal clear memory of being on a school bus in Washington state. Blink 182 just dropped an album. I hate Blink 182, but I listened with a friend whose face I can barely remember. As the high schoolers got on the bus I remember thinking...damn, I'll never be that old.

Not sure what could possess a child to feel that way. Or how that feeling could linger for years. It took a long time to find enough faith in myself to live. Now that I've got it, I think I'm encouraged to give breath to those lost dreams and wandering fantasies. Echoes of Evalas is an exploration of that.

I can't even grasp what that really means yet.

Things like faith, anger, insecurity, and longing for change. I've rattled a lot of locked doors while digging up this story and putting it together.

I am uneasy. That's probably how I've ended up writing this essay in bed, and boy is it a rambling one.

There was a point somewhere. I am excited for what's to come, but uneasy. Not out of fear that anyone will like it or content brained thinking like that. More like...a reverence for this magical thing I've found. Storytelling is magical for me. And that's not me waxing poetic, I think there's something terrifying and beautiful about it. It is the thing I was made to do, and the actual experience of crafting a story like this isn't just fun. I'm removing chains from my soul.

If that ain't magic, I don't know what is.

Anywho, I need to sleep. If you read all that, thank you for putting up with my yapping. 💖

#yuurivoice #i may wake up and delete this lol #it was on my heart to share i guess

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berrystiles · 2 years ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

______________________________________________________________

You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me. But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

“I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #She's back at it again with another sad fic #but no one dies this time so progress #berrystiles writes #rwylm

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nerdallwritey · 2 months ago

Note

for the fic asks!

✅🔚🤔😊

✅ list one or two favorite lines you’ve written and explain why they’re your favorite

HMM. Good question. There are certain lines that I write where I'm like "Oh this. This is beautiful," but of course none of them are coming to me now. I'll list a few sequences I love rereading though! (Sorry for the yappage, but are we surprised?)

An Evening to Ourselves

“Rather aerodynamic, isn’t he?” Gale remarked. - Making fun of Astarion's predator run

When you're overthinking in your tent and Astarion's like "I can hear you thinking from across camp" lol

The moment where Astarion's mask goes up and it scares you enough that it snaps him out of it

General Astarion softness with your firsts

Just to Ruin Me

The whole waking up sequence where Astarion smacks you and you hit him with a pillow

"I did have a knife."

The companions finding you snoozing together

Astarion tackling you to the ground and forgetting you need to breathe

Cheeks All Flushed

Shadowheart's wrath

Astarion attempting and failing to get drunk

Gale asking minimal questions about pranking Astarion

Withers

Perfect Every Time

Astarion snoozing on your chest

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face. “Want to try and rephrase that?” “Not particularly.”

Splash fight

Fish love

Worth the Peril

Comparing Astarion to a Barbarian

Feral/protective Astarion right after the injury

"You're allowed to love her"

Reading sequence

About to Strike

Astarion not knowing who Jaheira is

Stretching to prove you feel fine and failing miserably

The entire Jaheira poisoning you sequence

Finding the ring then pampering the elf

Okay CLEARLY I found a few good quotes while skimming through 😅

🔚 have you ever completely changed the direction a piece was going?

I'm sure I have. I usually go into writing with an idea of what I want to say/big plot points and then the bits in between kind of just weave everything together. I know that "Perfect Every Time" was supposed to be part of "Worth the Peril," but it got too long and I made it its own part! I also have the memory of a goldfish and will have ideas while I'm not in front of my computer and then forget it and have to come up with something else.

🤔 why do you write fic?

Honestly? I think I was putting off finishing my first play through of bg3. I didn't want my time with the companions to end so I kind of decided not to let it and tried to bring them to life through more storytelling. I also really wanted to write about Astarion being thrown off by a Tav. I've said it before, but the idea for "An Evening to Ourselves" came to me while I was trying to sleep one night and I made myself laugh when thinking about how if Astarion propositioned me, I'd be like "Wait, me? Why?" lol. I was also in a really unmotivated/somewhat depressed state back in the spring (when I started writing this series) and I really needed a way to be creative and have some fun. I regret nothing! I'm having a blast with you guys and am glad you enjoy the dorks I write about!

😊 say something nice about your writing

I do love my dialogue. It comes very easily to me, whereas prose and description can be a little more difficult. I guess my brain is just wired to think of quick snappy dialogue as opposed to waxing poetic about the vampire's beauty. But I make myself laugh a lot with the dumb things I make the characters say, and I know if EYE am laughing, that you guys probably will too :)

#this was fun!#again #sorry for yapping with the first part #i started reminiscing and couldn't stop #there's something wrong with me and being concise lol #thanks for the ask!#khywren #answered #emma blabs #tumblr games #tag game #beauty and the bard #mine #astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #great game

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marengogo · 10 months ago

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Silver Lining - What If #8 : Min & Kook or Busan Brothers?

Neuron by J-Hope (with Gaeko & YOON MIRAE) focused playlist.

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Ladies, Gentlemen and Distinguished Enbies: HELLO!

How is everyone? Hope you are all enjoying this little break, if you celebrate Easter, and if for any reason you didn’t get a break either you don’t celebrate Easter, or you are part of the “holiday working class” I hope you are at least safe and serene 💜. All that said, let me tell you;

It’s incredible what a few days off can do, aye?!

For one I've been very vivid dreams and, for two, I’m actually in the mood of writing posts, would you look at that! AND BY THE WAY I keep forgetting to do this, but I will at some point later today I need to write an advisory note for the Sonyeondan Colosseum as I haven’t been there in a while but I still get aspiring gladiators, who are dying to participate, and albeit fun, at the moment, I really don't have that much time, to provide these fighters with the appropriate match they deserve 😫. So it is only right that I rely the appropriate information, as I do believe I run a fine institution and as such I am sorry for allowing my administration to slack real life suddenly got so busy and interesting that I didn’t, and still don't, have time to play, but who knows what the future holds right?! There just might appear a contender so unique, I might not resist the urge for a little tussle.

Anyways, back to the topic of this post, as it is sort of a continuation of this one → Solstice & Equinox, it is indeed about the Jikook Travel vlog we still no absolutely nothing about, but of which I woke up with thoughts/ideas about, hence, why I’ve placed this post, yet again, in my Silver Lining series 🤡. In my previous post I tried to predict the vlogs' scheduling, in this post I would like to talk about the possible style this vlog might take, while making, as always, educated guesses and also diving into JK’s filmmaking style.

⚠️I MOST LIKELY WILL WAX HELLA POETIC OVER A LOT OF FILMMAKING STRUCTURES, SO BE HELLA WARNED⚠️

Let’s start right off the bat with:

Also if you are NOT familiar with “Youtuber” Jimin, below is a little summary:

As you can probably tell by some of the ss because there are so many more, believe me!, JM is very enthusiastic about vlogging and, as we all know, JK is very enthusiastic about producing video related content as well as taking it further when he directed Life Goes On for example. Both JM and JK consume copious amounts of video content, be it movies, dramas, anime or shows and they often seem to be watching the same shows as well. Reason why, perhaps, they often seem to be the only privy of their media related inside jokes.

Now, imagine loving to watch shows so much and having as a significant other someone whom not only has so much footage/pictures of you which will never see btw 🤡 but also has the skills to potentially make a show out of you, or with you, because they also enjoy the same thing, what would you do? Sure, you like travelling and he is not too big into that, but some time 7 years ago this person not only took you on a trip, but also found the most memorable way to immortalise this for you, resulting in this person producing more and more travel vlogs. Not sure if JK has come to enjoy travelling, but one thing is for sure;

he seems to enjoy making one helluva good vlog out of it.

Now, before we get into the reason for my title (Min & Kook or Busan Brother?) let’s look into JK’s filmmaking style THIS IS WHERE I AM SURE I WILL NERD OUT, and in order to do this we will look into two of particular videos, as I feel like their travel vlog could be a mixture of this two:

VIDEO 1: [BTS VLOG] Jung Kook l CAMPING VLOG

youtube

VIDEO 2: G.C.F in Budapest

youtube

Let’s start from VIDEO 1. This was a series of vlogs we got from each of the members and were posted on BANGTANTV between July 9, 2022 and December 10, 2022 as always with the Tannies, the actual filming dates may or may not be close to the time they were posted. There are many different types of vlogs out there, because many are the different interests of viewers out there. When looking at our boys, you can clearly see theri vlogs divided in 3 specific types of vlogs:

“HOW TO”-vlog: In this type of video, usually the hosts want to learn to do something, and so they either attempt or they are a master in said craft to do said something, while showing the viewer step-by-step, with the intent/hope that the viewer can learn or feel inspired to want to do it as well.

Jin

Yoongi

“CELEBRITY LIFE”-vlog: This type of video, we follow a typical/particular day in the life of a celebrity. There is usually not so much editing done, and it gives very much the feeling of watching a reality TV show.

Tae

Hobi

“TRAVEL”-vlog: These are usually specifically about showcasing cities, spaces, activities. They are very action filled, so they will not have as many static shots as, for example, the previous two themes

Joonie

Even though JK and Joonie have the same style of vlog, there is something that JK has, which all the other 6 don’t, which is his own “colour”.

JK has a very specific style that is unique to himself within the group, and you can notice in the editing, which makes me think he often takes part in, whereas, even though the type of vlog is different for the other 6 members, the style of editing is the same for all of them. When I say that JK adds his own colour, I mean that, for example, he so often breaks the 4th wall in very conventional and unconventional ways and this is something I've noticed only he does actually in Bangtan.

Aside from JK’s Film Colour, I do believe that this is also an indication of how long we can hope their travel vlog to be. In the end the main event was camping, with other events as well and it was edited to 45mins, which is a long ass video for this type of vlog, it basically means that they realistically had hours of footage and at least 3 type of campers, which I will get into in my next point.

GCF in Budapest has all of JK’s colours as of 2023.

This video is the result of 6 years during which he filmed, edited and directed different projects. GCF in Budapest is very professional, and even though he didn’t do the final edit on this, he did direct it, meaning that there wasn’t a single shot that he hadn’t planned, requested or approved of. Basically, JK is the person that instructed other camera-people the times he wasn’t filming himself as to what shot he needed and wanted for the final project, all the way from principal, to secondary, footage I DON’T THINK YOU CAN’T BUT I’M ABOUT TO NERD OUT, RIGHT NOW. Following are the notable structures in this GCF, with related explanations/examples:

Non-static self-filming - This is the typical vlog style where the main subject is filming himself. But in his case he seems to favour this type of shots when he is moving the most, as if he wants us to fill like we are really travelling with him, as opposed to constantly placing the camera on the surface, not moving, and talking.

B-Roll Footage - is also known as “filler footage”. Usually there is no talking or nothing of importance, but they are quite good for either transitions or comic relief. I LOVE B-ROLL FOOTAGE and JK uses it so well. I believe that b-rolls fit JK so well because of his personality, he tends to space out so often that, in the filmmaking context, this type of footage offers a way to show this dimension of his personality, for example, himself goofing off in the b-roll is perhaps what he does in his head when he is spacing out in real life.

Traditional filming - This is your typical main subject being filmed by a camera-person. As there seem to be two different angles during this type of shot, there were at least 2 different people filming him I will not go deep into the type of camera/s that were you as this is not that kind of post.

Establishing shots - This are shots that make the viewer know where and when something is happening, and they are extremely important in film-making, but not really in vlogging as the title of the vlog already tells you where and sometimes when, if not you’ll find out in the dialog you are, but it is exactly this kind of touch that makes his work feel very cinematographic.

All the aforementioned, are characteristics that I am expecting to see in their travel blog and I am soooooo much looking forward to check our the whole crew, if by any chance we get a roll end credit scene 🥹 to be honest, going back to video 1, since they were in each known location for more than a day, they could make at least 2 self-sufficient vlogs but hey ….

JK surely came a long way from GCF in Tokyo, didn’t he? And even though he hasn’t produced a GCF with the same colours ever since, there was something that was:

To me, filming is the art of skilfully deceiving, while willfully being deceived, during a specific amount of time, after which we all go back to our realities unharmed or “not”, depending on the depth of the film.

Films are like magic.

But what is filming for JK? To be veeeeery honest with you, the person who has a future in acting amongst the Tannies is Kim Taehyung, yet, the two people who can for sure act, on the silver-screen, are Kim Seokjin and Kim Taehyung … so why do I feel like Tae is the only only that has a future in this field? Because Tae can live for and with it. Just knowing how to act is not enough, you have to want to be an actor, for real-real. You know how Hobi breathes dancing? Tae breathes out imaginary characters in a similar way, reason why I can see him having a very prolific career as an actor as well.

Now ... why do I bring this up?

If JK just wanted to become a movie director alongside being the amazing musician he is, he’s had the perfect subject/s to do so. So why has he been so fixated with filming JM? JM is not the type of subject you can use for a long film, sure, he likes to act with his friends, but I don't think that cinema glory is one of his objectives in life I may be very wrong. He can perform/dance like hell crazy for the camera, HANDS FUCKING DOWN, but, once again, serious silver-screen acting isn’t what he wants. So, once again, given a choice of Tae and Jin;

Why JM?

TIME FOR TIN HATS Y’ALL HURRY 👏🏾 HURRY👏🏾 HURRY! 📢

I, Marengo, think that JK had always intended to make GCF in Tokyo as merely a video to preserve the happy memories, during a hard moment in their lives, which they spent together. This video-gift was specifically intended, for JM, in the style that JM mostly appreciated at the time, which might have happened to be YT vlogs. While editing his video, JK perhaps realised that it might have been a bit on the nose, so he added establishing b-roll shots of Tokyo, thinking it might have been enough to divert the attention from JM; but unfortunately failed. For a few reasons, but mainly, the lack of any spoken words in my opinion.

The thing is that for the purposes of what i think his objective was, words were absolutely not needed. “Look! See how happy you were here! It doesn’t matter how shit things are, we can still be happy; You can still be happy!” In the same way, with Life Goes On he wanted us to see their changed everyday life of the time, the sadness, melancholy and hope they all felt. Words were not needed, and this is the type of filming which is closest to the inner colours of Jeon Jungkook. JK is not the best with words, so I believe that he found in filmmaking a form of expressing himself in a more effective way.

HOWEVER, as we all know, even though Life Goes On was well received, GCF in Tokyo’s main critique was “Where is tokyo? All I see is JM”. Yet, his main purpose wasn’t Tokyo, the shots, the song, the editing, clearly indicated that. Nevertheless, if at the time, JM was indeed his queer interest as I don’t believe they were going steady at the time, he wasn’t going to jump out gun blazing to defend his choice; was he now? No, he left us to believe that he was gonna get better, and next thing he did was add more members and better establishing shots, but never forget; gcf in Tokyo is still there and still something he remembers fondly.

Now as for the title of this post 😂😂😂. Be it straight, queer, interrational or whatever, there is one thing that most of couple YT channels have in common:

Their channel name is either a union of their name or there is and &/and to join siad names. When JM was pretending to have a channel with JK during this live → VMINKOOK LIVE he named their channel MinKook, because he was Min and he was Kook so, MinKook and let’s forget for a second that this actually resulted to be a very funny korean pun. I honestly do believe that if you are a platonic duo on YT you will very rarely use your name with your friends name as it seems like it is a universal YT truth that “” & “” channels are couple channels. So if anything, if JM was talking out of subconscious, he maybe had been watching a lot of YT couple channels, at the time, and thought it okay for them to have a channel name that matched the same energy? …

🤡🤡🤡

So my question is: will the channel be named something akin to that couple vibe RISKY AF, WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?? Or will it be something more like the Busan Brothers name that they are often given … HELLA SAFE, MAKES A LOT OF SENSE? I guess only time will tell!

Ok then, hats off! Let's go back to reality, where we can happily keep waiting for this blasted travel vlog LOL.

Always respectfully yours 💜🫰🏾,

Marengo.

#Youtube #Marengo's Silver World #Jikook #Jikook Travel Vlog

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pillarsalt · 5 months ago

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its weird being in feminist spaces online bc on the one hand, we all understand that women have womens shelters because they actually worked towards gathering resources and opening these physical spaces. like they did actual work and didnt just wax poetic about the necessity. but then you have discourse about womens clothes and its like. you guys know there ARE brands out there creating functional clothing for the female form, right? and they end up shutting down due to lack of support? because we arent putting any action behind our words? and are just wishing good womens clothing into existence? like there are no mens shleters bc men didnt make shelters. there are no good female clothing brands because we 1) dont make them and if we do, 2) they dont get enough patronage to stay afloat. so yea guys, keep making tumblr posts about the lack of functional female clothing instead of seeking out and supporting those businesses. ill keep wearing my dads hand-me-downs because im economically and ecologically based.

Ooh anon we're playing with fire here... Alright everybody, feelings caps off and critical thinking caps on. This is in reference to a post I made a few nights ago about how I don't quite believe how many women claim they are incapable of wearing men's section clothes, a post which was itself in reference to another post that made the rounds on tumblr earlier this year. I wrote it after having had six beers and I'll be the first to admit, it was pretty inflammatory and worded in a way that lead a few people to reply defensively and angrily, so I turned off RBs and deleted it when I woke up the next day as damage control. The general gist of my post was that there are shitloads of options in the men's section that are far comfier with better quality materials than women's section clothes, that oversized clothes are easily adjusted for functionality ie. rolling up cuffs and wearing a belt, and that I think a lot of the women claiming they couldn't possibly wear men's section clothing are maybe just unwilling to "look bad," but again I wrote it in a way that obviously would not inspire good faith interaction with those whose choices I criticized. I'd like to take the opportunity to try again with this ask.

First of all, I also had a couple people say that they've had to wear the men's uniform at their job and it was ill-fitting and sucked. Of course I'm not arguing that women should not be accounted for in creating work equipment and PPE omfg, that's not what I'm talking about at all! That's a matter of safety and equality in employment, completely not what I'm saying. And I'm also not saying that women SHOULDN'T have clothes that are comfortable, functional, and properly fitting that are made with them in mind. We should be demanding this! What I am saying is that... we don't have that right now. Anon points out that there are businesses that have tried to do this and couldn't find enough patronage to stay afloat. Of course I want these clothing manufacturers to succeed, it would be the best case scenario, but in the mean time, we have two options: uncomfortable, flimsy, revealing, shit-ass-material that won't keep you warm women's clothes; and men's clothes that are possibly ill-fitting.

From the replies I did get, sounds like the biggest problem is with the hips to waist ratio, in men's pants the waist is too big when the hips fit. Yes, I get it! But I was also surprised to learn how many women are completely opposed to wearing belts?? I always thought belts were a wardrobe staple for most everyone, my Mom always wears one, I've been wearing one when necessary since middle school age. But happily for the non-belt-wearers, I've discovered that many men's pants actually have drawstrings, sometimes they're inside behind the buttons and zipper, so you can make them as tight or loose as you like. I have four pairs of pants like this, I wear them to work where I walk around and bring heavy things up and down stairs all day, they are sooo comfyyy.

The other thing is all my pants are from the men's now, and I have to tell you: sizing discrepancy is popularly framed solely as a women's clothing issue, but it's not really. Last week I bought two pairs of men's jeans from the thrift store, both size 34, without trying them on. One pair fits quite tightly around my thighs to the point that I will probably only wear them to events and not all day at work, while the other is the perfect size and so comfy I could sleep in them (don't worry, I won't.) It's trial and error all around when it comes to finding clothes that fit properly. There's not One Shape of men's pants. The changing room is your friend! Hang out in thrift stores long enough and you will absolutely find items that fit you wonderfully and feel comfortable.

So then we come to my main point: There are a lot of women who claim that men's clothes are just too big for them to wear and therefore they must resort to women's section clothes which supposedly fit them so much better... *FROM MY POINT OF VIEW* it seems a sort of convenient excuse to look the way a patriarchal society wants you to, in the same way that "sensory issues around body hair" is now a common stated reason to continue shaving and participating in sexist beauty culture without having to examine why you feel compelled to do so. I think when some women say they're unable to wear men's clothes, it's because they can't wear men's clothes and look as conventionally "good" as they do in women's clothes. And it's true, men's clothes are gonna be a bit looser and a bit more formless, but men aren't expected to be shrink-wrapped into their outfit like women are anyway. I understand the pressure to "look good," often women are treated poorly when they don't, but it's in your best interest and in the best interest of other women to resist that sexist pressure, or at least question it honestly.

Do I think you're a bad person for choosing to wear exclusively women's section clothes, absolutely not. I don't think women who shave or wear makeup or heels are bad people either. But I do think it's worth examining why you really feel like you couldn't branch out from the women's section.

Men's pants have a baggier crotch and ass area, but women's pants are often so tightly compact in the crotch that they can cause gynaecological problems. Men's shirt sleeves are quite roomy and may need rolling up, but many women's t-shirts have tiny sleeves that pinch your arms and draw your attention to the fact that your arm fat is being compressed. Men's pants can be quite long for a short woman, but cuffing them is simple: like anon said you can easily hem them, and if you don't sew like me, you can literally just cut them shorter and roll up the cuffs twice and KABOOM they become as short as you like. I want to reiterate that I do think women deserve to have clothes that are made with their comfort in mind, and I hope we do someday soon. But with the options we do have, there is a clear winner in terms of functionality, dignity, and quality. Men's clothes are made to be worn, women's clothes are made to adorn, decorate, be looked at.

Last point, when I hear someone say they're just too short or fat for men's section clothes... I can't believe them because I have seen A LOT of short and fat women wearing men's section clothes and doing just fine. You all have never met a short and/or fat butch lesbian? Ever? They look damn good in men's section clothing. I have a coworker who is 4'11" and shops 50/50 mens and womens clothes including pants. Like... I'm seeing short women wear mens clothes with slight alterations and zero problems. I really believe you can do it too. I believe!!!

In the end, I'm just a random tumblr blogger typing on my random tumblr blog, and you the reader have no obligation to take anything I say with more than a grain of salt. Try not to take this post personally, I'm not out to attack you. If your reasoning is simply "I don't want to," I can respect that and we don't have to agree. I think we can all agree the clothing situation for women generally sucks. If anyone including this Anon has recommendations for companies who make clothing that is legitimately created for women with women's bodies in mind, please let me know and I'll boost! Perhaps we can make a difference with our wallets.

#ask #please i'm begging you this is not a criticism of you personally

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angryshortstacks · 2 years ago

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Have mentioned this in my tanthamore head cannons but I thought I’d expand. so The Willow cast drunk:

- Jade: the lightest of weight, just the smell of red wine makes her woozy. She rarely drinks and when she does 3 is her max. she gets super giggly, and everything is funny. Her balance goes out the window immediately and she cannot stand on her own or walk in a straight line. She usually just ends up clinging to kit the whole night. Her cheeks also flush like bright red.

- Airk: light weight. 1-4 drinks. man whore. Need I say more?

- Graydon: standard tolerance. He has like Amy Santiago drunk stages, from 1-6. so he’s a different Graydon at each drink. Drink 1: he gets really quiet and a little sleepy (not too noticeable). drink 2: chatterbox. He goes from being the quietest in the room to being unable to shut up. Drink 3: spontaneous singing/ flute playing. Drink 4: he starts waxing poetics and life statements about how the world is beautiful. Has philosophical conversations with random people. drink 5: rubber knees can’t stand up. Drink 6: depression. He has a full existential crisis and goes catatonic on the floor.

- Willow: moderate tolerance. He drinks fairly regularly and can have 1-7 drinks. When he’s drunk it’s the only time he’s funny. Has one drink and is suddenly a standup comedian.

- Elora: surprisingly a heavy weight can stand 1-10 drinks. She’s the overly affectionate emotional drunk. She says I love you to everyone every 5 minutes and somehow ends up braiding some random girls hair in the bathroom.

- Boorman: heavy weight. 1-17 drinks. pranks on pranks on pranks. No one is safe. He and kit should not be allowed to drink together. They team up and become a menace to society. He also has no balance and falls over a lot.

- Kit: heavy weight. 1-20 drinks When she’s drinks she gets so over confident and pulls pranks. She’s ready to arm wrestle everyone in the tavern and absolutely gets into fights. Also gets super flirty with Jade.

- Scorpia: heavy weight champion. Literally has never been drunk because she’ll have 20 drinks and feel absolutely nothing. Kit tried out out drink her once and just about died by the time Scorpia felt anything at all.

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broken-clover · 9 months ago

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Solaxl Week- Day 2

The universe dislikes me because it's only day 2 and I went and got some kind of respiratory infection. That's the main reason this one's so short unfortunately, kinda hard to focus rn. Still trying my best! At least this one's a lot fluffier than the last

2. Opposite/Swap AU, Baking, Cuddling

It takes two to tango, but three isn’t necessarily a crowd. It’s a sauna.

Magic changes people, often in subtle ways. Wind-users often develop the ability to intuit the weather, changes in atmospheric pressure. Seasoned water mages are considered invaluable during desert excursions, due to their ability to sense distant oasis pools. And aside from the obvious ability to control flames more easily, fire-users often have a knack for smithing due to their resistance to temperature. Those things simply come naturally.

Most of the time, Axl doesn’t even notice until he leaves. Slipping out of the blanket tangle and opening the door feels like stepping into a freezer. Even if it’s a warm day, the temperature shift always feels jarring. It’s nearly enough to send him scrambling back into the cocoon of heat, into the used blankets, into his partner’s soft underbelly. Sol doesn’t have many soft spots, but he’s one of the few lucky bastards who’s gotten the privilege to see them personally. A tiny speck of gentleness amid a sea of hardened strength.

Not only is he one of the only ones that’s allowed to see it, he’s one of the few that can tolerate it. He’d crashed at Sol’s place a few times, back when he was still on babysitting duty. Sin had wanted to sleep with someone to ‘protect’ him, but he’d inevitably complain about how warm it got in the room unless someone tossed open a window to let the cold night air in. He could just barely tolerate his caretaker’s ambient warmth, throwing another fire-user in the mix was just unbearable. Axl sleeps on the couch whenever there’s three of them.

When it’s a private affair, neither minds it. When close together, they collectively release enough heat to spike any room’s temperature after enough time. It’s an unspoken symbol of comfort. Home is where the heat is.

They know where they fit into each other. Where arms can slip around waists and a head can tuck into a ribcage. It’s not even a process anymore, the act is as simple as breathing. Across the room, as Sin has often been as he’s walked in on his guardian, it can be hard to tell where one body ends and the other begins. Even through their wildly different appearances, they’re melded together by heat.

Sol says little about it. He leaves the matter be. Though he’s certainly not objecting to being warmed by someone else, regardless of how redundant it is. He’d never admit to seeking it out on purpose. He puts up the most perfunctory resistance whenever Axl tries crawling all over him. Were they in public- well, dense as he is, Axl has still managed to pick up on the thought that Sol doesn’t like being manhandled while there’s an audience. Out in public, he’s got a reputation to uphold. In private, he only has to prove to himself that he isn’t a massive softie, and that’s a losing battle. He still does it, though, and Axl doesn’t try to stop him, as long as the end result is the same. Sol makes little commentary through the process. He finds no need for it. Just lets it happen.

Axl, like always, is the more chatty about it. He waxes poetic, in his own rough, Axl-y way.

“We’re like a couple’a salamanders! Couple lizards chilling in the heat together. But we don’t need the hot lamp or a rock or anything, ‘cause the warm’s us, too! Yeah. We’re like lizards. Yeah. Yer my best lizard buddy in the whoooole wide world, mate. Y’know, always wondered if we could slow-cook somethin’ on your back-”

Even in the haze of contented cuddling, that sort of babble is too much for Sol to handle. He puts a hand on the back of Axl’s head, the same way he does in the rare moments where he attempts a kiss, and calmly mushes the other man’s face into the pillow until he wises up and stops talking.

#frog writes #guilty gear #sol badguy #axl low #solaxl #solaxl week 2024

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operative-arrow · 14 days ago

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3 and 18 from the song asks for Radas pretty please? 🙏🏼

Okay it is 530 in the morning, I've been up since 445, my sleep was not good so answering an ask to schedule for later when people might actually exist, let's gooo

3 Lyrics that describe Radas. I did answer it over here where all of these lyrics were their own pictures. but the way they laid out in the mobile view for me really works in one shot for him.

18 a song that describes his core, beliefs and values.

A big one. And I apologize for GOING ON with this answer, I'm very sleepy and in my thoughts about it and waxing poetic lmao.

I have looked for songs for these feelings and motivation questions that AREN'T love related. But that's such an important part of him~

After certain mural revelations, he's joked with @muqington's Nico, about being a spirit of Loyalty, Devotion, or Love. (Or Joy, because clearly he's a joy to be around) And frankly it fits. He has a lot of love. Romantic, platonic, for people, and life, and the world.

That's his fire, and it's what drives him. A lot has tried to put it out, and fails every time. In the end he still hopes, he still helps, he holds out that hand to others.

So This Song.

Is it talking about romantic love, his friends, just the idea of love, or his own spirit? Probably all of them.

After a hundred repeats of this song I have come to the conclusion that this is his fucking battle song, y'all. His big confrontation moments.

Him and the friends he loves, against whatever the darkness can throw at them. He's my little phoenix-hearted finch and I love him and his growing story dearly.

#radas #datv #datv rook #ask game

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buckybarnesss · 1 year ago

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on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 14-16 chapters 10-13 here chapters 7-9 here chapters 4-6 here chapters 1-3 here

annnndddd i'm back with another installment of on fire. we're in the home stretch now as the next three chapters will cover the end of the novel.

this section took me some time because 1. i do not care that the whittermores were robbed and 2. there's two long, detailed flashbacks with kate and derek that i found difficult to get through.

speaking of.

as always kate argent is her own warning but just in case i will be talking about those flashbacks so warnings for grooming and rape.

me this entire chapter:

we open this chapter back on lydia. who is now tied up by Thing One and Thing Two. she specifies she’s tied to a Louis XIV gilt wooden chair. now lydia says it's antique but pssft mrs. whittermore totally got a reproduction because she's new money trying to pretentiously pretend she has class. the whittermores always give "his wife covered the house in chintz so to keep it real i fuck him on the floor" energy.

lydia goes on to describe the robbery and look, i don’t really care about this. let them get robbed. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

lydia also gets to have her own little flow chart to show just how smart she is:

we move from lydia being a hostage to hunter gramm (we learn this is not his real name. his real name is bailey) plotting how to dispose of jackson. cassie doesn't want jackson to get hurt so she pleads for him to just dump jackson somewhere and escape to mexico like they had planned. bailey isn't listening though because he gets a phone call.

cassie is trying very hard to keep jackson’s dumbass alive as they listen to bailey have a conversation with one of the goons back at the house. he realizes they have lydia and he’s afraid for her. chich is sweet. honestly their behavior and thoughts towards each other throughout the book have been very in line with their toxicity in the show. caring is not a weakness, oof.

we’re back in hell -- oops -- i mean another flashback to six years ago with kate and derek.

remember i read this so you don’t have to. 🤮🤮

kate gave derek something to eat or drink i think was laced with something that makes him sick to his stomach and he goes to throw up in her bathroom.

i just want to wrap derek up in bubble wrap and keep kate away from him forever and ever.

derek’s a ball of anxiety throughout all this. he wants to appear grown up for kate and impress her. he doesn’t want her to see him like the child he actually is.

derek spends about a paragraph waxing poetic about werewolves. he calls his pack his “moonborn family” and i like that sentiment actually.

what I don’t like is “like wolves, werewolves mate for life.” this may be a Me Thing but i’ve never been overly fond of the whole mate concept within fandom. i just thank my lucky stars it's not canon.

there’s a moment when derek’s about to leave kate’s apartment where she moves to kiss him and GIRL HE THREW UP. YOU KNEW HE DID. YOU SET HIM UP FOR IT. YOU NASTY.

derek leaves and he’s just swimming in anxiety and insecurity over the “date” with kate. he feels like a loser because he wants to be Grown Up and have sex. he physically starts to jog away from her place. it’s like his body knows what his mind isn’t even entertaining. that she's a predator and he shouldn't be doing anything with her in private.

derek runs and ends up outside of beacon hills hospital where he sees the stilinskis. little stiles, his father and the unnamed claudia stilinski. i couldn’t make this up if i tried. this is such a classic trope.

of course in canon by the time of the hale fire claudia had been deceased for a year but we don't find that out until season 3 so it can be forgiven.

he observes them. holder gives a clear reference to what a lot of fandom assumed before it was revealed that mrs. stilinski actually had FTD and went with the idea that she had cancer referencing remission. he notices how nervous stiles is and how it reflects his own nerves.

this brings derek to the idea that humans can get sick, they decay and die. it freaks him out. which, okay, i guess since this version of derek doesn’t spend a lot of time around humans so he’s not used to the concept of mortality of others or himself.

this new fixation drives derek back to kate’s as he's overcome with worry for her. he's become a ball of confused hormones but when he arrives he overhears her talking to someone. it's clearly another hunter but only the audience knows that and derek's uncurious ass accepts it's not his business as he regains himself and turns to go but he bumps into a trash can making noise. this of course brings kate out. she's wearing a satin robe 🤮 and she puts on her concerned face and offers to let him shower and says she has an extra tooth brush. god, i hate her.

this chapter ends with the words: “and ms. argent shut the night out, and brought him into her den.” rage. what i feel is rage.

the next chapter comes back to the present day with lydia being rescued by danny and damon. the pair had gotten danny’s lacrosse gear and broke a window. lydia took her chance and ran out.

man, that was actually an awesome utilization of danny. smart, clever and quick. wish we could’ve seen something like this in the show. jeff.

it cuts back to jackson who is listening to cassie try to bargain with bailey to leave jackson alive. bailey doesn’t want to leave any loose ends. like, my guy. the plan has fallen apart and you want to catch a murder charge too?

jackson just can’t catch a break this entire time. cassie and jackson attempt at an escape from the van when bailey is distracted. it ends as you’d expect. cassie gets shot because bailey is a fucking idiot, the van crashes. it’s a mess. glass everywhere, the smell of smoke and gas. jackson’s still handcuffed and cassie is in terrible shape.

in the midst of this lydia has called 911 and is speaking to a dispatcher who's trying to help them. it's helpful but not helpful enough.

in the middle of THIS chaos holder sends us six years into the past again --- well. i think we can guess what’s coming, can’t we?

while I appreciate the world building that holder does as she tries to at least give some ritual and culture to the werewolves that’s specific to them. i cannot help but laugh at how she makes it french in connection when really the argents get the emphasis on their french origins. hell, even a quick google search gives up some results on the origin of the surname hale. i find the connection to st edmund interesting (he is the patron saint of torture victims, wolves and protection from the plague. jeff davis i see you.)

peter has a motorcycle that he lets derek borrow???? this feels incorrect. i cannot imagine peter sharing his toys.

i loathe laura’s characterization and it's such a shame this is really the only character she gets that is connected even tenuously to canon. laura is depicted as being aware of derek’s involvement with kate. she's a bit hesitant but not disapproving or overly concerned. she's kept it a secret. derek and laura have a discussion about the possibility of kate receiving the bite and laura even says, “maybe she’s doing a cougar on you.” like, this is just deeply fucked and bothers me so damn much. not only did canonically laura never knew about kate and derek's relationship but i hate how she's just acting like this is something normal.

derek mentions he gave kate a ring as a token of affection that he bought with money peter gave him in exchange for doing a few errands.

derek goes on to describe going home with kate and he’s so, so blinded by his affection for her that i just feel sick reading this.

the important part of this scene is derek whispers that he loves her while she’s asleep and goes to leave after showing but he forgot his backpack. he goes back and creeps back inside her bedroom. like he’s fucking edward cullen or some shit.

SHE IS A RAPIST AND THIS ALL MAKES ME UPSET.

though i have questions about what the fuck this means “he wanted to make love to her as a werewolf.” what in the furry hell?

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #on fire: a teen wolf novel #heather reads

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moon-blanket · 2 years ago

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Thoughts about beating Quinn’s ass. It’s finally time :o)

Sam checking on them to make sure they’re in the right headspace to do it, if it’s what they truly want to do-- not what they feel like they have to do. :’o)

I’m glad that the blood bond was acknowledged again, even if it’s on Quinn’s part. There’s something so cathartic about Darlin’ breaking his bones while he tries to wax poetic and manipulate them. I like that they didn’t exactly go crazy, of course they had EVERY right to, but they must have known that he expected them to do that. So the fact that they just left him there ? While he practically pleads for them to come back to him ? Icing on the cake.

Dropped to my knees the moment Sam got into the room, I’m glad he was offered a turn-- even checking to make sure that Darlin’ was okay with it, because this arrangement wasn’t about him. But Quinn hurt him just as much.

His message was simple and to-the-point, yet all the more impactful. It was nice to see Quinn’s icon shatter for the final blow. Our man did that !!!!!!

Like Sam said, it’s far from over-- but the clouds looming over their head are a little lighter. Time heals all wounds, but progress isn’t linear. But they have each other, their love, and the people supporting them. And that helps a hell of a lot.

Him checking on them after the fact while saying how proud he is of them. How healing takes time, and they’re one of the bravest people he’s ever met. They’re both healing, it’s so wonderous to witness.

David planning another vacation for the pack to get everyone’s minds off of this situation while waiting for the end of this mess. That’s our Fiancé :’o), and now It’s time for HBS !!

Once again, GBA did a GREAT job voicing Quinn !!! Such an excellent and convincing delivery !! He really knows how to put his all into a character !

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted spoilers #Moon's Thoughts #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted david #redacted quinn

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boosmidnighthour · 1 year ago

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Here's another little Total Drama drabble that I have no current uses for. I wrote a while ago when I was tired, so it's a little messy, but I think it's cute.

Working Title: Wayne the token straight

Fandom: Total Drama, Total Drama 2023

While hanging out, the topic of Wayne's sexuality comes up.

“Wow, Wayne really is the token straight,” Bowie chuckled to himself.

“Yep!” Wayne agreed, sounding almost proud of himself.

“Nah,” Raj argued, mashing the buttons on his DS. He looked up at Bowie from where he'd laid his head on his chest as the other teen hummed in curiosity.

“What, I never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Yeah, told him what?” Wayne piped up again, looked over from where he had been playing on his XBox. He looked kind of confused.

“Oh, man! I can't believe it never came up!” Raj laughed to himself, before looking back at his game. “Remember in freshman year? That one guy, uh… tall guy, dark curly hair, green eyes?”

“... Uh…”

“Luke-”

“Oh- uh- yeah, no,” Wayne quickly tried to deny, despite his neck quickly going red. He turned back to his game, in a rush.

“Bro, come on! You did not talk about him for weeks, waxing poetic about his /beautiful emerald eyes/, keeping me up until the next day the one time, just to try and lie to your best friends,” Raj pouted dramatically.

“Is poetry another shared thing you two have?” Bowie hummed in amusement.

“Nah, Raj got the poetic skills, eh. I got basically nothing under my belt.” Then he sighed. “Rajie, you know that didn't end very well.”

“Well, that's because Luke ended up being the straight one. He was still nice, though! And he wanted to stay friends, so it didn't end that badly, eh?”

“I couldn't talk to him after that. Then he moved to another part of Canada.” Wayne cringed on himself, before shaking off the memories. “Anyway, that doesn't mean I'm not straight. My sexuality's still up for debate, eh.”

Raj scoffed a little, a playful smirk on his face.

“Oh, ya got somethin’ else to say, lover boy?” The dirty blonde smirked, a dare behind it.

“Nothing, nothing… I just have my theories,” Raj hummed nonchalantly, pretending to be suddenly uninterested in their line of discussion.

“Mhm, thought so.” Wayne turned back to his video game, seeming satisfied with that answer.

The room was silent for a few moments, aside from the sounds of the two's video games and Bowie texting someone. Then he put his phone down, looking like he had some questions.

“How'd this Luke guy come into the picture?”

Wayne groaned and planted his hands over his face, looking like he didn't really want to talk about it. So Raj took the lead for now.

“Luke was a football player at our school. A grade above us. But he also got into trouble a lot, so he was benched for a bunch of games. Still came to the practices, though.” He saved his game and turned his DS off to focus more on what they were talking about. “It was little things, like dying his hair, getting piercings anywhere but his earlobe, wearing clothes that the principal said were inappropriate, like cropped t-shirts and rings.”

“Sounds like someone I'd have plenty in common with,” Bowie commented teasingly.

“Yeah, you two might've become friends if you'd met him,” Raj agreed. “Anyway, Wayne thought he was the coolest, y'know? He'd go to every game just in case he played, but if he couldn't he would try to talk to him from the bleachers. Almost impossible. He would try to hang out with him after school, but he would leave before Wayne caught up. Wayne talked about feeling ghosted by the guy a few times, but he took it like a champ.”

“Well, I mean… Luke would get suspended sometimes, so I wouldn't make it sound like this happened everyday, eh?”

“Psh, it was just about,” Raj teased. “He was a jock, but the kind of jock that actually does the work to keep his grades up, not the one making the nerds do his homework for him. He was quiet, read a lot. When he spoke, Wayner listened to every word he said-”

“No I didn't-”

“You totally did, bro! Luke's voice carried. I swear, you were able to understand every word he said to his friends in the cafeteria, and our tables were at different ends!”

“He had a nice voice. Can't a guy appreciate that?” Wayne weakly defended.

“You were crushing hard, dude. Harder than you were on that one chick from middle school.”

“You already admitted to confessing to him, didn't you?” Bowie interrupted. Wayne's sigh was all the answer he needed. “I'm not gonna push you to figure it all out right now, but at least you acknowledge that you may or may not be straight. Though, maybe don't push that you're straight. If you're looking for a partner, that might send the wrong signals.”

#total drama #total drama reboot #total drama 2023 #td bowie #td raj #td wayne #my wips

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aroaceconfessions · 2 years ago

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(a warning for internalized arophobia and transphobia and a mention of suicide)

We all have things we dont like about ourselves right? Theres quite a lot i dont like about myself but the thing that sticks out most is the fact im aromantic. If i were given three wishes from a genie the first thing id do is “fix” it. I know i should be proud of it, that I should accept myself the way i accept other people and I know I dont actually need fixing but its fucking hard to actually believe that. Romance is so ingrained into society that when i realised its something i might never experience, i felt like a monster. I felt like there was something inside me that was inherently broken beyond repair. I tried to ignore it, to label myself bi or pan because having no feelings either way must mean that i like everyone equally right? I knew aromantic people existed but i thought that that couldnt be me, Id always loved the idea of relationships, of having someone who loves you as much as you love them. Ive read so many romance novels and dreamed about experiencing something like that. Ive watched all my friends have crushes and realationships and listened to them wax poetic about people, but ive never felt that. Ive tried to trick myself into it but it never lasts. Sometimes it goes on for a while but most of the time it lasts a day or two before im eventually like, yeah no thats not happening. Its happening at the moment, I thought i had a crush on someone from my drama but im honestly not sure of anything anymore. I figured i was just unlucky, just hadnt met anyone who’s my type. I dont know if i ever will. Its so hard to accept that you might not get something that most people label as a defining trait of being human. Everytime someone tells me they have a crush on me I feel so horrible for not being able to return those feelings. I tried once, someone asked me on a date and I said yes. it was a stupid, dick move and i feel terrible about it but it only reinforced to me that i wont get the lighthearted teenage romance ive wanted for so long. I thought i could never hate myself more than i did when i figured out i was trans but this hatred is so much more intense and so much harder to neutralise. Im glad i figured this out now, after ive already done a lot of work to heal because if id figured this out a couple of years ago, I might not be here to type this. Im trying my hardest to unpack my internalized aphobia but im so tired of how much effort it takes to work through things.

Submitted June 12, 2023

#submission #aromantic #aro #arospec #aspec #internalized aphobia #internalized arophobia #transgender #trans #enby #nb #nonbinary #non-binary #non binary #internalized transphobia

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allwaswell16 · 2 years ago

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hello lovely, hope you’re doing well! I was just wondering if you’d know (bc you nearly always know the answers to these questions) of any new ish tomlinshaw?? i feel like I’m starved of them, and am currently rereading all the old fics i can find! By new I mean like 2019 on, or even if you know of anyone writing tomlinshaw atm!! thank you thank you

Hi! So first of all, yes writers are still writing Tomlinshaw! Definitely not as many as there used to be, but it's still a pairing that gets written! Here are all the ones I've read and enjoyed since 2019! Happy reading!

—Recent Tomlinshaw Fics—

You and Me (Got a Whole Lot of History) by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick loves the crush and fever of being right in the thick of things, but just the thought of Louis looking down and spotting him makes him feel a little queasy.

It hadn’t been a proper thing. It wasn’t a relationship.

here with me by haveufoundwhaturlookingfor / @sup3rbloom

Louis has been secretly dating Nick, and things were going so smoothly, but then Nick finds out that he's pregnant and they have no choice but to tell everyone about their relationship.

Particular by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick is very particular about the upkeep of his hallway's Brazilian hardwood floor. He is very particular about the cleaning of his kitchen's fine Wedgewood china.

He is less particular in his bedroom.

You know I love you, babe by @lululawrence

Nick sighed happily to himself. Yet another wonderful decision by Past Nick was stocking the fridge with the cheesecake. He honestly had no recollection of purchasing it, but it was the best thing he’d eaten all day. There was something so perfectly satisfying about a piece of cheesecake.

He should wax poetic to Louis about it. Tell him how he didn’t miss him at all because the cheesecake was all he would ever need.

Or the one where Nick fucks up and scrambles to make it right. Too bad that just makes things worse.

Food Fight by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

It’s Louis’ famed cooking skills against Nick’s more cultured palate.

Fight.

Little Saint Nick by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick meets a stranger in a bar and is told this Christmas season, he needs to 'learn to be nice'.

Costumes Must Be Sexy, Slutty and/or Stupid by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

It's a bit of a blast from the past to get an invite to Nick Grimshaw's fancy dress housewarming.

Shape of You by @reminiscingintherain

Ed goes onto BBC Breakfast to promote Divide. Nick flirts. Louis isn't impressed.

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Use You As A Focal Point by Jiksa / @jiksax

“What am I, the fucking twink whisperer? You’ve been nothing but horrible to me. Last time I tried to kiss you, you lobbed a Chelsea boot at my head.”

Louis shows up at Nick's front door on the wrong side of midnight, asking for... things. Part 2 of I Found 'verse

if you should try to kiss her by @disgruntledkittenface

It’s kind of their thing now. They make relentless snarky comments to and about each other and exchange meaningful eye contact every time they think no one is looking. At least, that’s what Louis thinks they’re doing, like their own extended lesbian mating ritual. It seems obvious to her that they’re inevitable in some kind of cosmic, grand design type of way; they’re eventually going to end up together and fix up an old house and Nick will build a chicken coop for the backyard (or hire someone to build it, probably) and then they’ll live happily ever after, bickering the whole time.

If only she could be sure that’s what Nick thinks they’re doing.

Harry's annual Christmas party gives Louis her chance to be brave and tell Nick how she feels.

I'mma Give You A Promotion by @lululawrence

Nick: We should move in together

Louis stared at the phone, blinking in confusion. Maybe he really had already fallen asleep. There was no way in hell that Nick would be asking him to move in with him in their actual reality.

Louis swiped open his phone and was still staring at the text when Nick’s face took over his screen.

"What are you on about with moving in together?”

“Well, we can either not see each other at all during the stay at home order, or we can move in together,” Nick explained.

“And you figured we should just move in together?” Louis asked, shocked.

Or the one where Louis and Nick have had a bit of a thing, but it was never meant to be permanent. They hadn't even defined it. Then COVID happened and changed everything.

A Fist Full of Glitter by @reminiscingintherain

Nick G: Fancy going to the BRITs tonight? Got a ticket with your name on.Louis: Is there any universe in which I’d say no to this? I think not.Nick G: I’ll pick you up at 6:30pm. Suit’s being messengered over now.Louis: You spoil me. <3 xx

Or: Louis' a Sugar Baby, Nick's his proper and formal Sugar Daddy. What could possibly happen to make that change?

The Colors Are Different by orphan_account

“I didn't know you'd be here Grim!” Harry says happily. Nick looks equally peeved as he catches sight of Louis right there, wearing the exact same shirt as he is. Louis really should’ve gone over to Ed – he could’ve spared both of them this traumatic experience.

‘Didn’t know you would be here either.’

It’s clear Nick mostly means Louis.

It’s not like there’s some sort of rule about the host of Capital’s morning show and the host of Radio 1’s breakfast show not being at the same events, but – they kind of pretend there is anyways.

or the one where Nick and Louis are opposites in every way, except maybe they aren't after all.

With Your Hand In Mine by @lululawrence

Louis reached out and latched his hand onto Nick’s arm. “What was that?”

“One of the previous inmates that mysteriously died here, I’d imagine,” Nick whispered into Louis’ ear.

Louis shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Nick being so close or the fact he was growing more and more concerned that he was going to pee his pants during this.

Okay, it was the latter if the shot of anxiety currently running through him was any indication, but he did have goosebumps from Nick’s breath grazing Louis’ neck as well.

Or the one where Louis hates haunted houses, Nick likes them, and Louis likes Nick. Things end better than Louis expects.

Swerve the Handshake by @lululawrence

There's a pandemic afoot and social distancing is being recommended for everyone, but what is to be done to still greet people with respect whilst avoiding the handshake?

Scott and Chris have ideas, and Grimmy becomes attached to a particular suggestion.

Brighter This Time by Jiksa / @jiksax

Louis’s a little lost, a little heartbroken, and maybe a little… something else. Nick’s just a shit bartender.

burning our pretty little hearts by icarusinflight

Nick's twenty-nine, and still not the least bit ready for it, when he finds his soulmate.

Can't Forget You by @writcraft

Nick wakes up in hospital and discovers he's lost several years of memories, including getting together—and breaking up—with Louis Tomlinson, the owner of the local café that Nick's being trying to pull for ages.

As he tries to work out what went wrong, Nick falls in love with Louis all over again.

To Fall Down At Your Door by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

Nick has failed to pay attention in any of the meetings leading up to him filming a documentary in the Scottish Highlands, mostly because he's just been dumped and he's in the middle of some very important wallowing. This does not entirely explain what Louis Tomlinson is doing there filming in the Highlands with him, and it absolutely does not explain why the world's press seems to think that they've just got married without telling anyone.

He's fairly certain none of this is actually his fault, but it doesn't change the fact that everything has suddenly got a little bit weird.

You're a Nightmare, I'm a Disaster by @lululawrence

As Nick scanned the shelves, his eyes caught on a bright blue binding. Snooki, it read, A Shore Thing.

“Oh my God,” Nick mumbled, trying not to laugh as he picked it up. He’d watched bits and pieces of Jersey Shore way back in the day.

Without bothering to look any further around the store, he headed up to the counter where Blue eyes was watching him. Nick cleared his throat nervously and set the book on the counter and the man immediately flashed him a look of disdain.

“Seriously? Out of everything we have available, you chose the book we special ordered for a customer?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if someone specifically requested it, right?” Nick said, trying to keep a teasing tone.

“Why do you think we still have it if it was a special order?” the man asked with a scoff. “They returned it after reading something like three pages.”

Nick frowned at the book. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair.”

Or the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don't exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

You are the feeling of drugs, pulling the chain of my love by WeAreTheLuckyOnes

Louis gets bored with all the questions by the next week and tells everyone, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off, in a Facebook post he subsequently deletes the next day. Instead, he chooses to ignore all his friends.

And text Nick.

Kind of Tough to Tell a Scruff (Stand and Deliver) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

There must be one good thing about your new place.

Nick considers for a while. There's a fit bloke lives down my hall, he types finally.

In which Nick moves north and Louis lives next door.

A Reckless Hallelujah by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

You're too short to be a dancer, they'd said. Competition's really tough. You should have applied when you were 11. You can't commute to the Royal Ballet School from Doncaster, they'd said. Why would you even try?

The Million Reasons Why by @reminiscingintherain

When closeted Manchester United striker Louis Tomlinson visits his secret boyfriend Nick Grimshaw on the Radio 1 Drivetime Show to promote his charity work, how long can secrets remain secret?

Taking The Plunge by @writcraft

The one with lots of diving metaphors.

Or: Nick and Louis agree to be boyfriends. Eventually.

Leo season by @disgruntledkittenface

“Didn’t catch your name earlier?” he asks, tilting his head to go along with his lilting voice.

“Nnrg,” Nick replies smoothly, failing to meet Louis’ hand with his own as he realizes just how garbled his smooth reply actually was. He overcorrects and vaguely slaps Louis’ hand before managing to wring it in his own, much to Louis’ apparent amusement.

Carefree. Confident. Over the top. Nick may be a bit of a disaster, but no one can deny the mood for Leo season suits him.

Like Honey to the Bee by @lululawrence

Nick didn’t even remember knocking, but suddenly the door he also didn’t realise he was leaning on opened and he started falling inside Louis and Harry’s flat.

“Fuck,” Nick blurted as he tried to right himself. He was caught by Louis, which was great because he was exactly who he wanted to see and he didn’t really fancy dropping a massive jar of honey on his doorstep.

“Nicholas?” Louis asked.

Nick couldn’t help it. Hearing Louis call him by his full name made him shiver. He usually hated it, but there was something magical about Louis Tomlinson that made the usual negative association suddenly become an incredibly positive one.

“I brought you honey,” Nick blurted as he handed Louis the jar.

“I can see that,” Louis said, sounding confused. “Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s what friends do, yeah?”

Or the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

That's My Thing by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

“Suppose I did it on purpose.”

And Louis’ eyebrow jumps again, just for a moment.

“Did you now?” His eyes flash, an underlying playfulness belying the anger painted across his, fuck, absolutely sharp as knives cheekbones. “Wanted a bit of trouble, maybe?”

All Nick can do is nod, tightly and rapidly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eager for Louis to demand he put them to work.

Nick comes home to find Louis inexplicably primed for a fight...or perhaps something a bit more interesting.

You Don't Care About Me (One More Night) by @lululawrence

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

pas de deux by @turnyourankle

Nick has been teasing Louis for a long time.

walk, walk fashion baby by @disgruntledkittenface

He couldn’t give a fuck about impressing these people, he’s only there to play the supportive boyfriend. But as he searches high and low for said boyfriend, one thought keeps gnawing at him, the sinking suspicion that Nick had dressed him up not so that Louis would feel more comfortable at the event, but so that Nick would feel more comfortable with Louis at the event.

Maybe this assignment is starting to fuck with his head.

Louis loves his supportive boyfriend, his passionate and interesting band of friends and coworkers, and his pair of quirky and dedicated dogs. What he doesn’t love is his job as co-editor of the Lifestyle section at a popular site aimed at millennials. But he was getting by until a new assignment landed in his lap: Let Your Boyfriend Dress You For A Week. His best mate Harry assured him it’d be a laugh, a bit of fun, but Louis was sure that Nick would dress him like an utter knob and his mates would take the piss all week.

He didn’t expect to actually learn something about himself.

regular touch by icarusinflight

Shoes for sale Paid £110 Looking for £80 Will sell for £50 and a good story

or Nick makes an impulse shoe purchase, and gets more than she’d bargained for when she puts them up for sale.

London Rain by @writcraft

Anonymous online encounters seem like a good way for Louis to explore his growing interest in men. Having phone sex with Nick Grimshaw was not part of the plan.

#ficrec #ask #forthetherapyy #tomlinshaw

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