#if a friend does this. if a stranger does this. if you do this. those all merit different responses i think!

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[bullet-prooflove]

I'll show you how a real queen behaves,

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @gatefleet @pansexualhailstorm

Companion piece to:

Texas - Travis and you make a realisation about your relationship.

Wyoming - Travis's mother calls Rip to get her son under control.

Your first time back in the saddle, you’re fucking phenomenal. Travis watches from the stands in a shitty little rodeo in Wyoming as you guide Artemis around each of those barrels with a precision that would make the current world champion curse your name.

“Is this some fucked up way of torturing me?” He spits at Rip, his gaze firmly fixed on the way your hair catches in the wind as you spur Artemis into a gallop. “Show me how well she’s doing without me in her life?”

“No.” Rip states flatly. “I’m making sure you keep your promise.”

Travis’s head jerks towards the other man so hard it makes his head fucking spin.

“She told you about that?” Travis says and Rip shrugs his shoulders.

“Not me, Imogen.”

When you’d first started talking about getting back out there on the rodeo circuit, he’d made a promise that he would be at your debut, that he would be in the stands cheering you on. You’d been so anxious at the time, unsure of yourself and he’d wanted you to know you had someone fighting in your corner.

There’s no trace of that woman here now. You sit up on that horse like a goddamn Queen and the crowd goes fucking wild when your score is announced because there isn’t a chance in hell any other rider can beat it.

“You should know that she’s seen the video, the one that’s been doing the rounds.” Rip informs him as he takes a sip of his beer. “You are one dumbass motherfucker.”

The video was taken a few weeks ago in Kansas City. It features him, two barrel racers and a bottle of top shelf bourbon from one of the finest distilleries out there. He hadn’t even realised the damn thing had been recorded until he’d gotten the clip from his buddy out in Tulsa along with a high five emoji.

“She thinks you’ve moved on, that you don’t love her anymore.” Rip tells him as you take a victory lap around the arena. “And after seeing that I can’t say I fucking blame her.”

His stomach twists at the thought of you watching that video, his cock thrust in someone else’s mouth, while her friend licked whiskey from his chest. He knows that it must look like he’s having the time of his fucking life but honestly he’s in fucking crisis. The only time he’s not thinking about you is when he’s black out drunk, sprawled across the sheets in some stranger’s motel room.

“Is that why you brought me here?” Travis asks him as he cradles a cold beer bottle against the cheek that Rip sucker punched. “So I can tell her otherwise?”

Rip raises his eyes skyward as if praying for strength.

“I brought you here so you can see exactly what you’re missing. You made a bad call by letting her go, you and I both know it, it’s why your spinning out so much.” Rip informs him as he watches you trot right out of the arena. “You need to get your head straight and fix it.”

“If it was that fucking easy don’t you think I would have done it by now?” Travis snaps back at him. “I still live in Texas and she still lives in Montana, I run a fucking business…”

“Don’t start pulling that shit on me.” Rip scolds him, shaking his head vehemently. “We both know you run that shit from the road. This about you being too fucking scared to take the next step, to actually make a commitment, that’s what you’re mad about.”

Travis doesn’t know what to say to that because Rip’s right. That’s where all this insanity is coming from. The guilt that he’s the one that fucked up your relationship, that he let you think it was you’re fault for not being able to settle in Texas.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Travis says finally and Rip shrugs his shoulders again.

“Truth hurts don’t it?” Rip says taking another sip of his beer.

Yea, Travis thinks as they watch the next contestant step into the arena. It fucking does.

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[anim-ttrpgs]

Good question!

The answer is because we said so.

Hahaha that is actually a true answer but there’s more to it than that.

The answer is that we want this to be a type of scene that is affected by the rules and the dice, because it’s something that we want Eureka to be about. Whatever you write rules for is what your rpg is about.

Making it a thing in the rules ensures that it is a thing in gameplay and the story that results from gameplay. Moments where characters sit around the table discussing the mystery are great for their and their players’ understanding of the mystery and ability to put the pieces together, and great for fleshing our who these characters are.

As for rolling when it matters, it matters.

The ability for characters to fail these Wealth rolls provides even more moments for characterization. One example off the top of my head that players still talk about even though it was over 6 months ago now is when one PC, Burnadette, failed a Wealth check and couldn’t afford food, tried to steal some breakfast bars from the grocery store, and was caught stealing by Sister Harriet, another PC. Sister Harriet, though poor herself, bought the breakfast bars for Burnadette, and it’s one of the things that made these PCs go from being relative strangers, who met because they were both interested in the same creepy old house, to being friends who care about each other.

It also matters because it interacts significantly with other mechanics, like the Composure system. PCs who don’t eat lose Composure, PCs who do eat gain Composure, and losing/gaining Composure matters a lot.

Wealth, or lack of it, being something that can significantly impact a PC’s Composure is by design, and the possibility of failing Wealth checks for food is one of the ways that happens. Speaking from experience, being poor is stressful, being homeless even more so, and even middle class people have to worry about money even if they aren’t living paycheck-to-paycheck. Wealth inequality in 21st century America and the effect it has on people is a theme you’ll find all throughout Eureka.

And the reason it’s meals and not other social gatherings is because it’s universal and thus works for every PC no matter what. Not everyone goes to any particular kind of social gathering, but everybody eats. The fact that it’s meals specifically also provides contrast for the monsters that eat people, representing how something that everyone else does casually (in this case eating) is a huge, violent ordeal for those who are on the wrong side of this society’s perception of acceptable needs.

As for the issue of even a super wealthy character being certain to run out of Food Budget eventually, and having a very small chance to fail a Wealth check to buy food, that’s because, while it does have a lot of life simulation elements, Eureka isn’t a life simulation, it’s a game about the PCs solving mysteries. The mechanics are tailored not to show their every-day lives, but to show a small particularly exciting snapshot of their lives, that time they ended up investigating a mystery.

The amount of Food Budget a PC can have is tailored mechanically not to represent their whole lives, but to work for the amount of in-world time we expect the average Eureka adventure to last.

Regarding a super rich character still having a small chance to fail a Wealth check to buy food, well, that’s because much of the society that Eureka takes place in, our society, is just hostile to human life. All the money in the world won’t help if the PC is snooping around in a food desert, or automated system which monitors their every purchase arbitrarily flags their recent activity as suspicious and freezes their credit card.

As for specifically 3 meals a day, that’s just a common meal structure in America, and it’s easy to design the mechanics around.

Meal Scenes and their Purpose in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

LAST DECEMBER

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem! Summary: Eddie just misses you Warnings: none: A/N: inspired by the song 'Back to Friends' by the lovely Sombr

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He can still remember the feeling of your tender touches on his body, they still burn his skin every time he thinks about you, silently tormenting him of last december.

he wants to feel like that again, to be held by you, be made weak just by a simple touch you placed on his him.

the image of you tangled in his blankets in the early hours of the morning to late nights haunt him. 

the way you looked as you were on top of him, kicking at the covers as you gazed down at him, his eyes glued to the ceiling as your fingertips burned his skin.

what happened? you two were so close.

you always looked at him like he had hung the stars and gave you the moon. but where were those soft gazes now?

now you would look away every time you saw him, like he was nothing, like you had no idea who he was.

it broke him, knowing the way he is invisible to you.

how could you? after all that time spent together, tangled in your beds, whispering sweet nothings into each others ears

did it mean nothing to you?

so now, in his bed he sits alone, thinking about how it was just last year when you were laying on chest, fast asleep.

Eddie remembers holding his breath while looking down at you, softly snoring. even if he was uncomfortable in the position you got him in, he didn't want to wake you up by moving.

Eddie will never understand how things changed so quickly. 

and as he sat down at the diner with all his friends, he can't help but stare at you, sitting across from him

you were looking beside you to Steve, talking as Eddie looked at you

oh how he yearned to be able to talk to you without you brushing him off, oh how Eddie missed you

you turned your head and caught Eddie's eyes. they connected. 

and while his were full of love and sorrow, yours were cold.

he used to be able to read you like a book, knowing everything that got you off or made you happy

now he looks at you and is met with a blank face

how can you pretend he is someone you've never met?

with his mouth slightly agape, eyes fluttering, begging to close because if he looks for any longer, he'll start screaming, begging you to just be his again.

but were you ever his? 

can you ever be friends again?

Eddie will take any of you at his point, even if it's just for a second.

then he finally blinked, and the moment his eyes opened again, you looked again

But he could see it, the glimpse of the devil in your eyes, did you always have that look in your eyes?

maybe when you told all the lies that he believed? when you told him you loved him? when you said he was the best sex you've ever had.

maybe he believed you too much, maybe he held on too tight

maybe he still holds on, even when you've let go

because this was just a casual thing to you, wasn't it?

because if it was real, you wouldn't look at him like he was a stranger

because he looked at you like you hung the stars, and gave him the moon. 

it was real to Eddie. why couldn't have just been real to you?

last December was real. it was real. it was real. it was real. it was real. it was real. it was real. it was real.

but how can you go back to being friends with something you shared a bed with, right?

he should be over it by now, because it was a year ago. but he just cant.

everything he does reminds him of you and the things you did

Eddie got up, making Dustin move so he could go to the bathroom

although he didn't need to go to the bathroom, he just needed to get away from you

the devil who pretends you don't know him

because that's just the way it is now. 

he would have just walked to the bathroom.

but his feet stopped him in his tracks when he heard you soft voice calling out to him.

it was like his body knew he loved you, it was like his heart called your name when he turned around

you could make him do anything, even if he didn't want to.

it was like his subconscious was tied to you, slowly killing him every time you took another hit at his self-pride.

because he'd do anything for you.

but would you do anything for him?

he turned around, and there you were, right in front of him, the lopsided tight smile on your face.

you looked guilty, you looked lonely.

"hey" you said

to you, he was a stranger

to Eddie, you were his murderer.

because he'd let you do it again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again. 

just like he let you do to him last year and the year before that, and the year before that. 

it was a cycle.

and Eddie hated change.

but he loved you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I accidentally uploaded this to the 1d community and didn't know. i was so confused when i saw it didn't upload on my profile and i contacted tumblr because i thought my web crashed out. turns out i'm just an idiot.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[bonny-kookoo]

Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

-----------------

Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

[loving-n0t-heyting]

The dynamic being criticized in that xkcd is not any kind of friends-to-lovers - it's befriending someone specifically with the end goal of dating them, usually with an implication that the friendship would be a waste of time if that isn't achieved, and yeah I do think that's deceptive and fair to criticize. The version of the friends-to-lovers dynamic that isn't deceptive is one where you befriend people because you want to have them as friends (whether or not you find them attractive, which you may but that's besides the point) and then later realize you want to also get romantically involved. Befriending someone because you want to date them is still basically the same drive as wanting to date strangers but trying to pretend it's friends-to-lovers because for whatever reason you're afraid to ask an attractive stranger out. (And yeah, I'm sure the internet at large did take this criticism too far as it does to the point of treating any kind of developing feelings for a friend as "you befriended them with the end goal of dating them", but that doesn't mean the distinction isn't worth pointing out).

no, this distinction is impossible to draw clearly in almost any given case, partly bc ppls inner true motives (even when crustal clear to them) are inherently difficult to scry, partly bc ppl in general get into friendships for a bunch of jumbled up reasons unclear in their heads bc they are vague in reality, partly bc the things that make someone attractive as a partner largely overlap with those making them desirable as a friend. the whole thing was nonsensical, root and branch

the actual difference here is that the good cases ppl have in mind in that thread are gay and the bad cases they had in mind in the 2010s were straight. this is bc heterosexuality, and not homosexuality, basically invariably injects a bunch of messy adversariality and relationship preference mismatch rendering all attempts to frame gender-neutral norms around it incoherent and all attempts to frame gender-specific norms around it sexist. once again, the great lesson reasserts itself: the burden of explicit homophobia is not enough to outweigh the intrinsic virtues of not living as a heterosexual, make a beeline out of that hell for your own good if you at all can

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 3

AOBA'S JEALOUSY

To be honest, I find it difficult to decide in what order to look at the different scenes in their lives. I don’t know whether to do it chronologically, thematically, or as they appear in the game, and that’s without having in mind that I lose track of what I write easily.

Before continuing, I would like to comment on one aspect that never convinced me about how NC wrote this character, as I mentioned with other aspects above. It is probably what I like the least, I think it is very poorly used and lays a questionable foundation for the character that in my opinion does not do him justice.

The first thing we see of him is him throwing one of his client’s boyfriend to the ground for causing trouble, and a bunch of women wetting their panties around him. Again, I don’t mean to get into the sexism issue right now, but it’s inevitable to mention it. Having a fan club isn’t a bad idea, but of course the only thing they could ever do was to make a bunch of annoying, yelling, toxic and childish women behaving like they’re 15 and had never spoken to a man before. They’ve worked on it in the most superficial and stereotypical way possible that the only thing it leads to is discomfort and rejection of the idea of meeting him again. And the worst thing is that it’s not just you, it’s also Aoba, so they don’t help much. Luckily it doesn’t last too long.

Obviously you can’t just lay it all out right from the start, it’s normal that you’re shown the most superficial side and as you progress you get to know him in depth, like everyone else. But it’s extremely superficial. I personally wouldn’t change that much, and maybe my biggest problem (besides the representation of women) might be just a translation problem, but hey, I work with what I have. They’re just a few small details that make it seem like a textbook white knight copy and paste. If his relationship with women was just as superficial, maybe it wouldn’t be so disappointing, but the thing is that it isn’t, so it doesn’t feel completely right with his character.

Anyway, back to what I wanted to get to. The way Aoba talks about Koujaku is quite stiff, distant, even though we learn a little later that Koujaku has been his friend since childhood. It’s true that he left the island for many years, but then he says that Koujaku came back three years ago and that he hadn’t changed at all since they were children except for his appearance, he was still just as friendly, kind and smiling. So why this coldness?

Aoba practically talks about him like he’s some guy he met a few months ago and occasionally runs into and that’s it, despite what we’ve already mentioned. Not only that, but it turns out that Koujaku drops by his house quite often, staying for lunch and overnight, sleeping in his room. What kind of stranger would you do that with, especially someone like Aoba?

Even Tae herself, famously known for always grumbling and acting a bit surly, is fond of him. She is precisely the one who would be the least hesitant to kick him out of her house if she didn’t want him there, however Aoba points out that he knows that his grandmother considers him a second grandson. After all, she has known him since he was a kid. I'm sure that she’s very grateful to Koujaku for having been there with her grandson when no one else was, not even her, even if she wanted to be.

I talked about this topic a while ago with another tumblr user, who basically attributed Aoba’s behavior to pure discomfort and displeasure when seeing Koujaku’s fans interacting with him, due to having been distant for so long, so it seemed important to mention those three years. I’m not saying Aoba should not be uncomfortable in this situation, seeing your bestie flirting with a group of women jumping around him is definitely not the most fun thing to do. Also, he wants to avoid the gaze of the whole group because they would eat him alive, something he doesn’t achieve because Koujaku notices him anyway. But he seems very distant, he is not only showing discomfort or just wishes to disappear, he is excessively rough with the words he uses, saying that all that charisma he has is an act, false. Like I said before, this is because Aoba knows better, sure, but the way he says it gives it a pretty negative tone.

It seems to me that NC simply wants to introduce the character to you, as the reader, rather than introducing him as Aoba’s bestie, hence the coldness, it’s not Aoba, it’s you. They still joke around all the time and the complicity between them is quite clear, so it’s not like it’s entirely wrong or weird or distant, it’s just those details of Aoba’s thoughts that seemed somewhat dissonant to me.

In any case, there are behaviors that resonate with another idea that is very true and it’s Aoba being jealous. As we have already mentioned before, there are subtleties that make his attraction to Koujaku obvious from the beginning. In the Drama CD and the SSS we see that Aoba is quite insecure, undervaluing himself mostly for being in a homosexual relationship. Seeing that women continue to go after Koujaku makes him feel bad, although there is not much to do, he cannot lock Koujaku up so that he doesn’t talk to anyone ever again and that’s it. He is very troubled by this, and even wonders if Koujaku wouldn’t have preferred to be with a woman at the end of the day, as if he was less, as if Koujaku should be in a straight relationship.

Most notably in the Valentine’s Day story Aoba wants to be able to do what all those girls can do openly without having to worry about prejudice or stares. He wants to be able to kiss him, hold his hand, go on dates, and make him chocolates, normal couple things. Those reactions he had when seeing those women holding onto Koujaku’s arm or having his attention were nothing less than jealousy, because Aoba wanted him to give that attention to him.

This not being possible, since he doesn’t even realize what he feels to start with, makes Koujaku sharing other kinds of things with him that he doesn’t share with anyone else extremely valuable, like the balcony scene, or Koujaku holding his hand when they make love, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. That's why he loves to keep learning new things about Koujaku as their relationship progresses, even the silliest ones. The unknown is not a source of uncertainty or shock anymore, but one of curiosity, a way of loving.

Please Koujaku quit smoking I don’t want you die you're too sexy. haha

That’s why when he discovers that there are things about Koujaku that he doesn’t know, that Koujaku isn’t willing to share with him, among other things, it affects him in this way, like he’s not as special as he thought for knowing a side of Koujaku that most didn’t, because that is no longer a reality for him.

[muerder-snail]

Epic fans I have I cool idea for those who make animatics!

So I was listening to dangerous (as a Hermes child does) and I head this “ahhhahhh~” in the background behind Hermes when he says “when strangers lark around the isle” and my first thought was these are the souls Hermes is escorting to the underworld and then I thought what if it’s the souls of ody’s crew? Because Hermes takes the souls to the underworld to bring to the farieman so they may pay to cross my brain started to spiral!

This is where it becomes more of the theory then cool visual stuff. What if Hermes paid the boat men so ody’s crew could pass the river Styx? Ody is his great grandson after all I feel he’d want that for him to have his friends not become wrath on the shore.

Anywho back to what I was saying before! I noticed the back up vocals with Hermes in ‘wouldn’t you like’ too so ya if you ever do an animatic and you see this post maaaaybe have the back up vocals be the spirits Hermes is escorting???

[creekfiend]

And so what about when the dog is absolutely certain, and very proud of themselves, that they only bark or snap at people who deserve it? The kind who, if they find themselves feeling like snapping at you, conclude that it's because *you* are a Bad Person, because they *know,* and would *never* snap at someone Good?

I mean... yes. most people are this way and that is why it is important to reflect and examine your behavior when interacting with people and modify it when you find that it does not match your values

[softquietsteadylove]

Red and Green

Gil is glowering. He's been glowering almost since they arrived. He's happy to help, of course. Jack is in the winter play, and since Sersi is also teaching at his school, they've all come to help out with last minute decorating and such. He's baked five sheet pans worth of goodies for the bake sale taking place before and after the play.

Thena is on stage, helping Jack and a few other kids with putting fake snow everywhere. She's not exactly taking part but she's good at keeping them from throwing it on each other or anywhere unnecessary.

That's not the problem. The teacher talking to her is the problem.

Gil doesn't know who he is. Ben says he thinks he's the gym teacher or something. Seems a little young--aren't gym teachers always old dudes who don't actually play sports? This guy is their age, visibly handsome, even from a distance.

"You're a natural with them," the tall, blonde stranger insists.

Thena shakes her head, "I couldn't disagree more. I am here for Jack and no one else. The little hellions can fend for themselves."

She says, and then still decisively stops two boys close to the stairs from seeing what the fake snow tastes like.

"Well, I think you're a natural." Who does this guy think he is? He was moving some larger stuff around with Ikaris all afternoon. Apparently until Thena caught his eye and lured him away.

Gil rolls his eyes as Mister Blondie pulls off the fleece he's been wearing. His t-shirt gets pulled up a little with it, just enough for the stage lighting to really emphasize the full, washboard eight pack of abs he's got.

Phastos clears his throat loudly in Ben's ear. "Ahe-hem, Mister Stoss."

"Habibi, please," Ben attempts to lean away from his husband. "It is not a sin to have eyes, my love."

Gil sneers to himself. Thena has eyes. And while she wasn't openly admiring like Ben had - no matter how briefly - he knows she's seen them. He just...knows it.

"Gil?" Ikaris walks over to him, tugging at his own t-shirt now that boxes are moved or sets are arranged, or whatever they've been doing. "Wanna give us a hand?"

"Who is that guy?" Gil points blatantly at the man still chatting Thena up while she's trying to keep an eye on Jack and his friends.

Ikaris looks and shrugs. "Teacher."

Gil shakes his head at him. If Ikaris weren't both Thena's brother and Sersi's husband, sometimes he really wonders how they would have become friends. "Thanks, helpful--I meant how did he and Thena get to talking. She doesn't usually talk...with people."

It's not his most subtle tactic. But Ikaris doesn't seem to pick up on his greenish aura. "I heard him ask her a little about what she used to play. Guess they're talkin' about college sports?"

Gil's discomfort only increases, though. Thena did play sports when they were younger. He didn't. And he knows that she misses how she used to play soccer in high school and even in the first year of college.

His eyes are glued to them as Thena smiles and even laughs faintly as she talks to Whats-His-Face.

"What?" Ikaris asks him outright (no tact at all).

Gil huffs, deciding he's done just watching things unfold. "I don't think you'd like it if he was chatting up your wife."

Ikaris makes a face. "I guess not. But he's not. And Thena's not your wife."

Gil doesn't have a defense to that. He storms off so Ikaris can't announce to all the auditorium volunteers how flushed he is. Instead, he hurries up the little stairs onto the stage. "Uh, hey."

Thena stops dead in her conversation to smile at him, "hey."

He has to give it to him, if Mister Golden is bothered at all by the interruption, he doesn't let it show. "Hey, thanks again for helping out. The school doesn't have much to offer for things like these. Volunteering really goes a long way for the kids."

Gil tries not to scoff at Mister Perfect's magnanimous speech. He offers a stiff smile and hovers closer to Thena. "Yeah--I need Thena's help with the bake sale stuff, if you'll excuse us."

Thena lets him grasp her hand and all but pull her away. She only lingers enough to point over her shoulder, "Jack is in charge."

The other kids whine, but he's still riding the high of having all his 'cool' aunts and uncles help.

"Oh," Mister Friendly laughs faintly with a bright smile (and perfect teeth). "Well, it's already snowing out. You should stay warm inside."

Gil bristles as Mister Flirtatious' hand comes dangerously close to touching Thena's shoulder. He pulls her closer to him.

"I can give you a hand," he offers.

Gil is now borderline tugging Thena with him. "Thanks, but I need to, uh, ask her opinion on some things."

He wants to get right in the guy's face and tell him that of course he knows it's already snowing. He's not going to let Thena get cold! He rushes off the stage with her and makes sure to grab her coat off the back of one of the chairs. Maybe it's a bit obvious, but he loudly shakes it out and holds it up for her to slide her arms into the sleeves.

Mister Sunshine just smiles and waves before going back to watching the kids.

Gil sniffs. "He's friendly."

"Quite." It doesn't tell him what he wants it to. Usually Thena isn't warm to people just coming up and talking to her.

"What were you guys talking about?" he asks, realizing it's too late for him to be asking in a fake-casual way. He shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk out of the auditorium and head outside.

"He introduced himself as the physical education teacher," she states factually, which at least isn't the smitten fondness he was dreading hearing from her after their interaction. "He told me Jack is doing exceedingly well in his activities."

Of course that was his in; Thena is a sucker for talking about Jack, in any way, shape or form.

"Phastos is insistent Jack learn American football, but my practices with him have been paying off," she states with her nose all the way in the air with pride.

Gil laughs. Thena is determined to get Jack so hooked on it that he calls it football instead of the American 'soccer'. "It is a little less physical than football."

They get outside and Gil shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. Maybe it was dumb for him to get Thena's coat for her and not go looking for his own.

"Gil, aren't you cold?" she asks outright.

"It's okay, I just need a hand with a few of the trays," he excuses with a smile, unlocking his car from where they stand.

"What did you need my opinion on?"

Oh, right, the blatant and bold faced lie he told in order to soothe his own jealousy. What was he thinking? Ikaris was right, Thena isn't his wife--she's not even his girlfriend. But that never really bothered him so much as when he saw Mister Model up there chatting her up...showing off his abs to her.

"Gil?"

"Uh, well," he hesitates to get out as they step out from the school doors' cover and into the light evening snow. "I guess...do you think what I made will sell well?"

It's lame--it's super lame, and embarrassing. It's a bit late, isn't it? He's made a full dozen of five different desserts. Wouldn't he have asked this before he got so far into the process? And she and Jack were there when he baked them at Ben and Phastos'!

"Of course they will," she answers honestly, though. He likes the blunt and earnest realism on her more than Ikaris. "Your baking is always amazing. I'm sure the school will make back the cost of the play and then some."

"If they make the 'then some' I think I should get to keep the profit," he mutters. Thena laughs at his joke, but butter is expensive, and he's made three dozen different shortbreads! "Here."

He hands Thena a tray of the frosted cookies, which have to be separate from the rest to keep their design integrity pristine. He carries the other three trays himself and closes his trunk.

"It's nice that Jack is excited about it."

Gil smiles, some of his earlier agitation melting away. Thena, for all her insistence that she didn't like anything to do with children, lives for Jack. She loves coming to his school events, helping with parent stuff. He knows she's lied at her job so she can attend every single soccer game he has, even when they're at 4 in the afternoon on a tuesday.

"I didn't expect him to be so happy to have all of us here."

"Well sure," Gil chuckles, breathing a little easier now that it's just them. "Jack thinks you're the coolest aunt in the world. He's bragging to his friends right now about how you were a pro soccer player and know how to use swords."

Thena rolls her eyes modestly. "I keep telling him it's an amateur fencing class."

Calling it amateur is a disservice; Gil has witnessed a little of it giving her a ride once, and she dominates in it.

"I hope he never gets tired of having us around for things like this," she admits to him quietly, maybe even sheepishly. "Even when he's a teenager."

Gil smiles even wider, because Thena is just so sweet and loving under her calm and placid exterior. "I'm sure he won't. At least not you--maybe Uncle Ikaris."

Thena laughs, and it shows off her teeth in a cute way.

Gil shifts his load to open the door for her. He really didn't need help with anything, but he doesn't need to confront what it means that he was so desperate to get her out here with him just yet.

"There you two are, people are starting to arrive!"

"Sorry, just had to keep 'em nice and cold y'know," Gil murmurs as Sersi rushes forward to take Thena's tray for her. He sighs but Ikaris has some decency and extends his hands. Gil lets him take the top tray from him. "Are you sure I'm supposed to have this much real estate?"

Sersi waves a hand. "I've run this bake sale the last three years. I am not exaggerating when I tell you two parents at most will actually bring enough. Everyone else just brings a store bought cookie platter and lets it suffice. They don't sell well and they just take it home with them after the play."

"Gil will put them all to shame."

He blushes at the confidence Thena has in him. "If it's to help the kids put this play on again next year, then fine."

Ben has his phone out, snapping pictures. "They're gonna knock people's socks off, Gil."

"Thanks guys," he sighs as he unwraps his trays upon trays.

"They certainly look great!"

Gil's blood pressure spikes again. He turns and someone has let the golden retriever with a whistle around his neck out of the auditorium. "Thanks."

"Jack's been bragging about how his uncle is the best cook on the planet. I hope I can snag one for myself before the play!"

He's just being friendly, but Gil can feel his veins tightening under his skin with every word out of this guy's mouth. He looks at Ben, who's all excited and bouncing with his phone up. "What?"

Ben points.

Gil looks up, as does Thena. There's a pretty half-assed sprig of mistletoe hanging from the decorative archway put up over the table. He looks around; none of the other ones have this. He's ready to tell Ben to stop messing around. But then the presence of Mister Smiley and the memory of him flirting with Thena resurfaces in Gil's mind.

Thena's eyes go wide but she doesn't move as he pulls her closer. He slides his hand up her cheek, letting his palm angle and hide where their faces make contact, and not too briefly. Her eyes flutter closed.

Everyone's jaws drop (except Ben's).

Gil pulls away. He's kissed her close enough to her mouth that it will look the part, but not actually on her lips. But far away from her cheek that it can't be misconstrued from her view. He smiles as her eyes open again and she blinks at him.

He's never seen Thena blush before.

"You know I wouldn't kiss you without asking," he whispers before pulling himself away from her. "But, uh, come find me after the play is done?"

"H-Hm," she squeaks out, taking a few stiff steps away, her heels clicking like a fawn's hooves as it learns to walk.

Gil goes back to setting up his bake sale spread, some renewed vigour swirling in his chest. He peeks up from the table. Mister Perky seems to have gotten the hint and has started directing parents with trays to take the other (smaller) tables. Gil is satisfied.

Ben loudly snaps a picture, practically giggling. "Habibti, you're as red as the tinsel."

"Stop it! And delete that!"

Gil chuckles to himself as Thena rushes back into the auditorium and away from the commotion he's just caused. He does hope she comes find him after, and not just because he's her ride home.

Ikaris gives him a strange look but Sersi rushes him inside too. She leans back into Gil's view to give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He blushes, but if Sersi thinks it was the right move then maybe he's onto something.

Gil takes a seat, ready to start selling. He has to admit that maybe he owes it to Mister Chatty to save him a brownie or something. But only if he gets to kiss Thena again later.

[miodiodavinci]

i saw that you used to hint at oc stuff on twitter (don't ask me why im digging im looking for zola stuff lmao) why don't you post more about them?

i am simply terrified that if i post oc things online someone will steal the concept and run with it faster and better than i ever could have and then i will be devastated forever and ever

more seriously i have very little to show for any of my oc things (adhd brain making life difficult as per usual awawawawawa) and every time i've shared oc things in the past i've ended up never following up on it and it makes me feel bad and guilty so i've just convinced myself i will Never talk about my ocs until i have something substantial i can put out there

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

[allroseshave-their-pricks]

uuuuuuGGGGH I MISS SOCIAL DANCING

[clubpenguist]

friendly reminder that even if youre open about something on your blog, even if you think its so obviously right in your about/description/pinned/whatever, most of the people who will interact with you are not even looking that far at your blog. they dont know your name or your pronouns or your disabilities or your interests or your credentials or whatever you think is just *so obvious* that they *must* be intentionally ignoring it just to hurt you. ESPECIALLY not if theyre a random stranger who youve never interacted with once before, has never interacted with you once before either, and has absolutely zero reason to care about you. its not a personal attack, its just a fact. this is literally the internet

[tittyinfinity]

Imagine everyone is doing lines of coke in the bathroom together and when it comes to your turn someone says "sorry but I heard you're a parent and it would be irresponsible for me to give you this while you're child free and with other adults :/ I just think parents shouldn't do drugs sorry :/"