#im gonna paint all my pages from here on out this is so nice

[doodlboy]

Finally draws my version of angel

[ohbo-ohno]

a place that feels eerily familiar to you, like you knew it in a dream + price !! 🫶

congrats on so many sillies following you!!!

1k game here

this one was kinda hard to think of something for but i hope you like it! also thank you ily <3 i love my sillies

2.2k of john price x single mom reader. this is kinda labyrinth inspired, except i've never see labyrinth so we're going on vibes alone. no smut! this is another one with very little of the character requested, but im gonna get better about not doing that i promise <3

You're gobsmacked as you stare at the scene in front of you.

The walls are painted almost aggressively bright, with rainbows crisscrossing over each other in every direction, random bursts of white you think are meant to be clouds. The colors make you squint a little, you didn't even know paint could be that bright.

It's almost painful to look at. It's also... familiar. You're not sure why, but it is.

You shake off the odd sense of déjà vu, refocusing on your goal.

"Alice?" You call out again, cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting as loudly as you can. "Alice, baby, where are you? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

It's hard not to fall to your knees and just give up. The only thing keeping you standing is the memory of your sweet baby girl in that man's arms. Her little cherubic face tucked into his neck, tiny body dwarfed by his massive form...

You force a full breath into your lungs, then another, then another. You won't be able to help Alice if you can't keep your head.

"Alright, think," you whisper to yourself, taking another moment to scan the room. "If I were a piece of shit baby-stealer, where would I keep a perfect angel?"

Nothing responds.

The room is definitely meant for a child, but scaled up to your size. The door you'd come in through has disappeared, leaving you stuck in this weird rainbow nightmare.

There's a bed against one wall - not really a bed so much as a stack of no less than six mattress one on top of the other, all with the same purple bedsheets. They nearly reach the ceiling, and on the very top your sure you can see several stuffed animals.

There are bookshelves against one wall, floating shelves styled after unicorns where the books rest along their backs and the unicorns themselves stick out from the wall. It's horrendously impractical - all you can think about is how much dusting they would need, how dangerous they could be if they fell on top of someone.

The floor is a nice hardwood with a large plush rug in the center, stylized to look like a white cat curled up in a little ball.

The room is spotless. Nothing is out of place, there's not a spec of dust anywhere to be seen, and nothing is stained. You wish your own daughter's room was this clean, but three year old's are a very messy species.

This room is clearly meant for a kid, but you can tell it's never been used. No child could keep a white rug so clean.

You sit on the floor in front of the purple bed and try to collect your thoughts, eying the room around you.

The man - John Price, he'd said around a cigar - had been clear about your task. Find your way out of the labyrinth in twenty-four hours, and you'll be reunited with your baby.

Of course the jackass had neglected to mention it's a magical labyrinth. Of course he hadn't told you that the maze would literally reconstruct itself right in front of your eyes.

This room had appeared practically out of thin air too, which is why you suspect that no one's ever been here but you. The whole place has an air of cleanliness that leaves your skin crawling.

The walls though... there's something so familiar about them.

It hits you a few moments later.

You'd had a coloring book as a little girl that was rainbow themed - each page featured a rainbow in a different setting, or a different shape, or an animal with rainbow patterns, things of that nature. Your favorite page had been the one without any design but rainbows, arches crisscrossing over each other in every direction. You spent hours painstakingly coloring it properly, despite the fact that it was nearly impossible to tell where the top of the rainbow was in certain places.

You'd begged your mother to paint your room like that, promised her that you'd help, that you'd never complain about your chores again, all typical little kid stuff. Your mother had refused, and you'd forgotten all about it by breakfast the next day.

That pattern from the coloring book is the same one decorating the walls, complete with the incorrect colors in certain places. That's where you remember it from.

And... and that bed. Mattress stacked on top of one another, purple bedsheets. It's just like an old copy of The Princess and the Pea your father brought home one day. You had been so entranced with the idea of a bed so tall that you'd never even cared about the end of the story. You vividly remember begging for a tall bed like the princess had, and you'd gotten it - you slept in a loft bed for most of your teen years.

It's clear from there what's going on. The unicorn shelves are plucked from your memory too, originating from a years long obsession with the mythical creatures. The rug, now that you think about it, matches one your kindergarten teacher had. The whole room is filled with things that you thought would be great in a bedroom as a little girl.

So.... how do you get out?

There's no door, no windows, no attic, nothing. Just a sealed rainbow box.

You skim your memory as quickly as possible, trying to imagine any sort of escape route you might've wanted. When you were little, you'd gone through a phase of wanting to live in a tower like Rapunzel, but that had a window. You also tried to run away once, becoming very enamored with the idea of living in a tent. You'd wanted to live in a treehouse for a bit, and that....

Oh. That's it.

You'd wanted to live in a treehouse, and your father jokes that you would roll right out of the hatch when you were asleep. You'd proudly said nuh-uh and told him how you'd drag the mattress over the hatch every night.

You glance over your shoulders at the six mattress stacked on top of each other and sigh.

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

It takes a while, but you finally manage to shove the last mattress away from it's spot.

Not only is there a trapdoor beneath it, there's one singular pea.

You'd laugh if you were any less exhausted.

You leave the rainbow room all but destroyed - the stuffed animals had gone flying and knocked off the books, and the floor is almost completely covered by mattress - but you're far too excited about your small win to worry about cleaning up.

You climb down the ladder in a tiny, enclosed space, breathing slowly to keep yourself from hyperventilating. It's almost pitch-black and you can't fight off the image of the walls shifting around you, deciding you're not supposed to be here and.....

You breathe a sigh of relief when your feet hit the floor.

Your first instinct is to call out for your daughter again, hope that she hears and cries out for you, but this room - dark and undecorated - is dead silent. The kind of silent that feels wrong to break. So you inch forward towards the only door you can make out along the wall.

Your hand shakes as you push it open, tense as you reveal....

A nursery.

A nursery with your baby in it, your little girl all curled up in a crib that she's a bit too old for. She's wearing something different than what you had her in, but she's real and she's safe.

You step froward on instinct, standing at the side of the crib. Just as you're reaching in to grab her and run, a voice speaks up from behind you.

"What are you doing?"

You jolt, spinning around and pressing your back in front of where your baby sleeps.

It's the man again. He can barely fit through the doorway (literally ducks) and he's broad enough to nearly block it. He's almost cartoonishly large, with tree trunk thighs and arms, a soft padding around his body that makes him look both terrifying and nice to hug.

His beard twitches as he frowns at you, thick eyebrows dipping low over his eyes.

"You're not supposed to be here."

You shake your head a little, getting your racing heart under control. "You said if I could find Alice in twenty-four hours I could go home."

He shakes his head slowly, stepping further into the room. The door disappears behind him. "No, I said find your way out of the labyrinth and you could keep her."

Against your own will, you feel tears start to sting in your eyes. "But..."

"How did you get here?" He asks again, shifting back a bit. His face softens just slightly, but that isn't saying much.

"I found a door," you say. "Under the mattresses."

He hums. "You remembered, then."

Now it's your turn to look confused. "Of course I did. It was my dream as a child."

His head tilts to the side as he takes a few steps forward. "You would be shocked how many parents have forgotten their own dreams. It's pathetic," he spits.

You try to push a little further back as he comes within reaching distance, but you have nowhere else to go.

"Pathetic?"

"Yes. How are you supposed to fulfil your child's dreams if you can't remember your own?"

"But... but not all dreams are meant to come true."

He scowls at you, leaning a little further forward. "Really? You don't remember how devastated you were when you didn't get that treehouse? Or the rainbow walls? You cried for hours, I saw it in your memories. Why would you want to put your daughter through that?"

That's... invasive, but you try to move past it. "But my dreams weren't always good for me. I couldn't sleep in the treehouse, what if something went wrong? There could've been a storm, or someone in the woods, or I could've gotten too scared to go inside - any number of things. And I would've been bored of the walls by the weekend, of course my mother didn't spend days painting them just for me to be over it before I even said thank you."

He hums a bit, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. "You would deny your daughter's dreams because you don't want to create them, then?"

You scowl at that, holding yourself back from poking a finger into his chest. "Are you calling me lazy? How dare you! You know, I work two jobs to take care of that little girl all by myself since her daddy's a deadbeat, I work myself to the bone making sure she can eat, and you call me lazy for not painting the walls the colors she wants?"

He latches onto the wrong part of the sentence. "Her father's not in the picture?"

You glare at him. "That's what you got from that?"

He seems to be stuck in deep contemplation, taking another step forward so your chests nearly brush and you're forced to stare up at him.

"So, it's not for a lack of love, then?"

"What? Of course not. If I could, I'd give Alice everything she could ever want and more. But that's not how the real world works."

"It's how the labyrinth works."

"Excuse me?"

He gestures broadly to the nursery. "The labyrinth is kind to her inhabitants. She gives them everything they desire, because it's easy for her."

You've never been more confused in your life. "Okay? Good for her, then."

You get the feeling he's reached a conclusion that you can't even see in the distance as he nods to himself, leaning to the side a bit to glance at Alice. You fight down the urge to leap over the crib and cover her body with yours.

"Then you will stay here."

That jerks you back to reality. "Wait- what?"

"You will stay in the labyrinth, where she can provide for... what did you call her? Alice? Yes, Alice. You and Alice will be taken care of here."

"But-" you splutter. "But I found her! You said I had to find her!"

He shoots you a slightly exasperated look. "No, as I said before, you had to find your way out. You didn't. And look at that, time's up." A timer appears in the air in front of him, ticking down to zero. "Now you and little Alice are mine. It's been a little empty around here recently, it won't be the worst thing to have company for a bit."

You feel heat rush to your face. "No! Let us go, you can't keep me here on a technicality!"

He smiles - a real smile, brightening up his eyes - and surprises you by cupping your cheek with one big paw.

"Oh my dear, it's my labyrinth, I can do whatever I want in it. And it's not a technicality, though I could keep you based on several of those too."

You fume as you glare up at him, hands curled into fists. "I'll find my way out. You can't keep us here."

He chuckles, patting your cheek once before stepping away. "Oh, yes, I think you'll be fun to keep around for a while, darling. Try your best to escape, if you'd like. I don't think I'll mind finding you lost a few more times."

[vaingod]

What are some of the things you've noticed about these middle class city gays and their lifestyles? What are some of the things that stood out to you the most that is completely normalized? Because I see these pretty gay boys from the global north on Instagram and how perfect and white their teeth are, iPhone, MacBook, nice restaurants, nice gyms, holidays, expensive clothes that look very plain but you know that plain white t shirt was somehow $100 to me its like when Katniss sees the people in the Capitol and I just can't relate...especially since theyre all so skinny and pretty and have nice things!

Ok im saying this all as an immigrant thats lived here for a decade and still experiences this disconnection between city gays. Its the money, its always the amount of money they are comfortable throwing away on tech like you said but its more than just some rando city person buying themself an apple product once every 3 years or something. In order to live the life that you noticed these people tend to live you need 1 of the 2.

1. Rich parents. Most city gays that you see on Instagram are these. They usually go to school or have a job like one day a week type deal but they dont worry about rent or bills ever, no number on paper scares them to say the least but they are also really weird about you paying back like coffees or miniscule shit.

2. Are in debt. Most of my friends that are middle class are this

Like i wont forget meeting this girl through a drag actor friend of mine and she was cool and one of those all pink people so we vibed nicely until she started pulling up pages and pages of clothes and shoes and furniture that cost more than ive spent my entire life and talking about all the things she wants like a bratty child and i was losing my grip on reality before she talked about her hot pink custom paint job porshe and how her dad payed for it all cus she wasnt gonna drive a boring straight car. Like this attitude specifically is what drives me up the wall cus as someone whos jumped to and from alternative scenes a big appeal was making my own accessories and clothes and fucking shit up and looking trashy but alluring to other people like me. even when i went through my fem diva phase i exclusively thrifted vintage clothes to embody a 60 year old diva i didnt spend hundreds of dollars to look good?? My 90s thrifted furcoat ive worn for 7 years cost me 10 bucks.

As for middle class or poor gays that are in debt that keep going in debt to allow themselves the luxuries that they see gays with (their parents) money can allow themselves, i feel like its a very complex social dynamic that isnt easily explained by poor prople are allowed nice things or everyone deserves luxuries. And its harmful however its explained because very often the sentiment from middle class gays in regards to overspending obfuscates what a luxury is, not a few times have i heard from gays with debt "if i had the money i would take a private jet everywhere i wouldnt give a single fuck if i had access to things that rich people had I would use them just the same or more"

Class division is really like that tho, id compare it to how middle class suburbians dont want better public transport and shut any finances that go into it cus they dont want poor "suspicious" people coming to their neighborhoods. And that shut down of public transport only hurts them and their community but they do it anyway. Ill say it outright most middle class gays in debt that do everything to spend money to live a fantasy of not being in the same social class as poor gays are doing so intentionally.

[stormyoceans]

Have a nice day, Monica! 🌸 Merry Christmas! Regardless of age or status, this time will always seem fabulous. On these lines I will be your personal Kevin McAllister, mentally protecting not only your home, but also your health, sophisticatedly dealing with insomnia that is trying to steal your sleep. I set a wide variety of traps, set snares and keep cans of paint ready if the insomniac wants to cross the threshold of your house. Thank you for the little joys of reading all your posts written with love, for the emotions that I experienced while reading them. This is definitely better for mental health than a browser window with world news. Peace and happiness to you and your home! Take care of yourself!🌸

And by tradition, a question for you: the top 5 of your favorite Christmas cartoons and films?

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU TOO MY DEAR 🌸 ANON!!!!!!!!! 💜

the idea of you taking a page out of kevin's book and setting up all kind of traps to keep insomnia away from me is both so hilarious and incredibly sweet that i don't quite know what to say except thank you. thank you for always being so lovely, for sending me the kindest messages and for caring about my health. if i was able to give you back even just a little of the happiness that you gave me, then im really glad!!!!!!

as for your question, im actually not very big on christmas movies, but here are some that are very dear to me and that i end up watching every year:

home alone and home alone 2. THEE CHRISTMAS MOVIES OF ALL TIME. A HOLIDAY STAPLE. maybe im cheating by putting both of them together, but when i was a kid (and here im gonna show how truly old am i) we had them on video tape and we would always watch them on christmas day one right after the other. if i had to choose tho, i think i'd pick home alone 2. i know it's not as good as the first one, but for some reason it's always been very comforting to me (and i always dearly loved pigeon lady).

tokyo godfathers. i stumbled upon this movie completely by accident in my late teens when i was very into animanga and it immediately became one of my favorites. it's about 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) who find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. it’s got humor, it’s got heart, it's about chosen and blood family, and most of all it's both very human and very magical.

klaus. it's the most recent movie in this list and consequently the one that has less sentimental value, but in such a short time it has become very important to me. it's hilarious, heartwarming and one of the most comforting movies i've ever seen. to quote klaus, "one true, selfless act always sparks another." that's the true spirit of the holidays to me and how i strive to live my life.

trading places. so fun fact.. here in italy our national television has been airing this movie on christmas eve every single year without fail since - i kid you not - 1997. i was 6 years old at the time. i am now 32. i spent 26 years of my life watching trading places on christmas eve. what i was doing yesterday evening? watching trading places. and just like me, so was every single italian out there. it doesn't even matter if we like it or not, that's not the point, it's just become tradition like setting up the christmas tree and it's the only certainty we have left in this country: on christmas eve we watch trading places (hashtag just italian things).

the santa clause. this is another movie that used to air a lot around the holidays when i was a kid. i've never particularly cared about it, but my mom ADORED this movie and she always put it on while cooking for christmas. once i got older enough to help her in the kitchen, it still kept us company in the background as we worked, so i inevitably ended up growing fond of it and it's one of those movies that to this day i make sure to find the time to watch with my mom every year.

[birdegilbinlercesineasigim]

In order not to use Tumblr only friends tag as whatsapp, here are my thoughts;

-Seconds into watching and I see TopMew? I. could.not.care.less

-You are changing for someone else, but not for yourself top? Yeah I dont see why this would be a problem in the future.

-Could Mew be more shrewd that I give him credit for? Perhaps.

I seriously wanna entartain the idea of Boston's heart melting for someone, but I dont think this show is striving towards that, any other show I would be like yea thats exactly what is gonna happen, but I feel like that would be too easy for this show.

How have I not realized before that boston is seriously ripped? Cuntiest of cunts have body definition. Nice.

Nick, my sweet summer child, can you stop being a slut for boston? can you please?

If I was a good guy you wouldnt like me? God damn it, he might be right Nick, for fucks sake!

So someone records you and you are upset, but when you do it, it doesnt count? Stone houses bitch.

We know NickBoston is gonna end in catastrophe, but god damn if they dont have chemistry.

I stole your ex but fuck it lets be friends. Are you for real Top?

Sand, my absolute favourite, my love, you know there are better methods than to smash your phone if you want people to not reach you right? You could just, I dont know, destroy your sim card and get a new one? Just a thought.

Nick what the fuck my dude? Like seriously? You are not a coupplleeeeeeeee!

Sand my love, I have never doubted you, I knew you had a plan about that phone. (I totally doubted and judged you).

sand baby did you delete the audio? Or you sent somewhere and Nick clocked it immeadiately?

Okay Im confusion. What is the reason for Sand to send audio to Mew? What is his gain? He hates Top and wants him to lose his boyfriend? Okay seems legit. But doing so could potentially send Mew to Ray's way? He has feelings for Ray right? So why would he want that? What is he gonna gain from stirring the pot?

Okay is sand manipulating the shit out of ray or is it me because I see everyone as manipulators in this show?

Campaign poster? You make that using paint or some shit? That is terrible :D

Nick for fucks sake just once can you just stand your ground

I dont hate Mew at all. Yeah bitch I truely believe you, you dont hate anyone, you just want to see the world burn. I appreacite that about you. Even though I wanna punch you all the time.

Okay Ray but like Boston did not lie now did he? You hope they would break up eventually :D

can you please get over yourself Mew? Your Hollier than thou attitude is giving me a headache

I cannot watch ray self destruct. Like I can not. This is physically painfull.

So Ray just took a page from Gossip Girls book and decided to air out everyone's business? I'll be damned. I- I cant.

I am literally covering the screen just reading subtitles. Y'all Im not made for this amount of stressssss

Did just Ray say to Sand to basically be his whore? Or was I tripping?

No I was not tripping, he literally called him a whore. Im at a loss for words honestly. I guess Im finally realizing there are no happy endings in this show.

April might be the only sane character in this show.

Nick come onnnn!!!!! Snuggling with Boston? Did you really think he would be okay with that

Ummm what? Wait? Iam confusion. He knows about the audio? The whole fight was a lie? Why would it be a lie? Im sooooo confused.

Trying to gaslight while he is shouting at you Top? Real mature guy you are.

I dont even know what is happening in the next week's episode, what the actual fuck?

I wonder if Mew is gonna self destruct or destroy everyone?

[alabaster-moon]

*I* want to hear about your stuff! Tell me about your stuff!

i- that is so ridiculously sweet of you… i thank you, truly (and also totally don’t know where to start ohmigod). this may be a touch long, as i have a lot of stuff, and much of it never gets voiced… apologies for the sheer length.

i mean first and major project (that won’t be posted here for reasons like enjoying being faceless) is my cosplay for an upcoming convention. i’ve been planning since literally last year to make a megamind cosplay, and it’s finally starting to come together! the cape’s nearly done, i have a solid plan on how to do the suit (after a tiiiiiiny mishap with my first attempt… like the cardboard i used to protect layers from paint sticking to the back of the thing… heh) and it’s just… it’s finally looking like it’s gonna work, and i’m Very Excited. i need to buy more spikes though. but that’s on brand.

i’ve also got another thing planned for that con - a dear friend of mine (who should be asleep now, she doesn’t know about it) is a brilliant fic writer, and i only ever see her for this con… i want to try and hand bind one of her fics to give to her. she has given blanket permission before, and it would be a single copy for her; i won’t have time to make one for myself. i’m very, very new to bookbinding: i have no skills, but i have the audacity, which is basically the same thing. fingers crossed i can get that done, i plan on doing the typeset on tuesday, wish me luck~

there are also another fic i was binding - i don’t think that author follows me on here, and they know about theirs, so i can state this too. but that one i was going to bind one copy for me, then one for them, so their copy was Nice and Pretty (and i can fix the bloody typesetting mistake on page 116 for theirs). but like, and this part they don’t know about, i was deciding on what i wanted for the cover of the fic when they said that they buy themselves sort of congratulatory rings when they finish a longfic, and posted a pic of them. so i’m going to find a way to make the cover of this book match the ring they treated themselves with as congratulations. i think it’d be cute. i hope they like it.

last week, i got fabric for two other cosplays; a william james moriarty and a james bond, and while i’m uncertain when i will be able to work on them, i am very excited. i plan to tailor both suits myself (again with the sheer audacity), and because of that i can make fun hidden things… like the crimson red lining in william’s jacket, and pastel pink lining the shade of bond’s manga cover in bond’s. i’m also considering embroidering the characters’ initials into the lining of their jackets too, because if you can go fancy, why not go all out? i managed to get my hands on a lovely wool for the waistcoats rather cheap, which was nice, and the patterns i have seem straightforward enough. i do plan to remake my sherlock’s jacket too, as the one i currently use was my mother’s; it is both too feminine and i would be devastated if i wrecked it… when i make his i’ll make the lining blue. small details, but the thought of them makes me so freaking happy.

a bit of a different one now, but i’ve also set myself on a little personal journey of transcribing the whole of the yuumori musicals - they have become so dear to me, and i want to appreciate them somehow. that being said, my primary art form is music, so short of covering them (which i’m tempted to do anyway, i’ve wanted to learn the violinist’s parts since the first ten minutes of op1) there’s… not a lot i can do. but making sheet music? yeah, i spent a three year degree on that, i can do that much. it’s a tough slog (@ sherlock’s actor specifically who very much enjoys going into free timing just on the good violin parts… hiraryo why you do me like this?) but it’s been so rewarding so far, and honestly im getting faster at it, which i’m also so glad to see. (i also have a very long meta about the role of the organ in op4 that i need to format into a tumblr post… it is currently across like six or seven paragraph messages in my friend’s dms. apologies to her notifications).

not so much a thing i did, but of late i’ve also had a wonderful time exploring the 2.5d musical scene; i had already known about hetamyu since like 2018, and the time between finding yuumori and finding morimyu was Very, Very Short. but i’ve had a friend guiding me through a bunch of others, which has also led me back to my very first manga fandom via tenimyu. i didn’t realise how much i’d missed prince of tennis until i saw those boys on stage… like those characters really were something so special to me growing up, and i’m thankful to have them back. i kind of want to have a look at the hakuouki musicals properly soon (the first live yaisa… iykyk), and i promised another friend that i’d watch the black butler musicals with them, so there’s a journey ahead of me and i am so excited to see what it brings.

there’s also a couple of bits and pieces, meta posts that i’ve been too scared to actually voice (i just see certain similarities between my last fandom and my current fandom and i want to write the comparison post to recommend the thing i enjoy to all my favourite people but Fear yanno cause what if they don’t like it) and all the plot bunnies that i either don’t have the time or don’t have the skill to complete (mostly the time one). i also lowkey decided on a whim to join flufftober, so that’ll be fun. i laid out the doc, and i have a really nice idea for two of the prompts, so we’ll see how that one goes.

also i’m thinking of reviving my university final project… i’d made an utau, and then wrote an album for her, but never got it to a state where i was content enough to release it. it’s like the one thing i regret… but it’s never too late to bring back, right? i can revamp the songs and bring her back properly… if i have time, i really want to do it.

but yeah. that’s my current stuff, barring one or two things that are group efforts and as such idk what i am able to say. hopefully the formatting is somewhat coherent. i thank you for giving me the mental permission to voice it all though… that was lovely of you ^^

[pwblogarchive]

April 2004

April 1, 2004

“hey heartbreaker, you'll never work in this town again”

I think someone is impersonating me online. Could be a joke. But if you talk to someone online and they say they are me, they aren't. I don't talk to anyone online. Texas is fun. We got some sick clandestine hoodies. They've got bats on the hoods and all. Sidenote: I love nickplan. Sorry my words don't have the same weight they usually have right now. Usually they feel stuck in my throat, today it feels okay inside my skin. Oh yeah chicagoland. We want to roadtest some of our new songs so we will be playing around unannounced on shows at really small venues in the next few months. If you snooze you lose. You never know what show we may play.

April 4, 2004

“we love life”

Texas was sex. Dallas being the most amazing. Its hot down here. We played with a band called DV8, this really young band (13-15). They were rad. The bassists bass was bigger than him. Me some rad kids in arkansas, they were starry-eyed and made me tongue-tied. I've been writing a lot lately. All my old charms and curses are back in full swing. I can't wait to get home. Well take these hearts and rename them dangerous and invincible. Well make them too hard to break.

Peterpan

April 7, 2004

“a man-made monster with every human emotion (clandestine explained 1)”

So a lot of people have been asking us about these hoodies and shirt with bats on them. It is not a clothing company. It is not a new band. When I was younger I had this same nightmare over and over again- so my friend tim biedron and I made a story of it (www.timbiedron.com to check out his art). The story is finished and we are waiting on some of the illustration. You may love it or hate it but its something that was stuck inside my head for a long time. We will be selling shirts and skatedecks online soon (www.clandestineindustries.com) and the story will be available this summer. Take the time to check it out if you get a chance.

Love peter

April 10, 2004

“ice age, heat wave cant complain”

i really like the new modest mouse cd. it's called good news for people who love bad news. purchase it.

April 11, 2004

“the moon has one third less gravity than your earth, i don't know if you can comprehend that”

im home. i love aqua teen hunger force. its hilarious. i wanted to let everyone know that if you haven't heard the point id suggest checking them out. a good mix of core and punk rock type stuff. i really really enjoy the hell out of them. www.thepointrock.com

still listening to modest mouse. still think you should get it. being home is nice. im full of food and really clean and im wearing my hood up. im way tired.

April 11, 2004

“I want to sleep on portraits painted as perfect as you”

Thanks for fun on tour. For the record for those in freeport- we had a little bit of fun with you. I will not ever drink. Its not my thing. So if you think there was more than water in that beer bottle, I have a bridge you might wanna buy too.

April 12, 2004

in response to a post on our messageboard, i want to say that i eat only cocoa crispies. i dont dig any other cereals.

April 14, 2004

“in case you're keeping score”

Being in a band is the ultimate friendship ruiner. Went to two shows tonight. In addition to all the smoke got to hang with: akas, beautiful mistake, dld, apo, senses fail and rufio. Being in a band is the best friendship maker. I am getting this awesome bass custom made, black with a red pick guard, no knobs, wired "on". I think it got me weird, so I dyed my hair red and black. Its sex or maybe not. I have 80 pages of lyrics to wade through. New songs soon. New love soon. Style update: I'm only gonna wear little polo tees with the collars up from now on. The clandestine webstore is almost up. I want to get "mom" tattoo for mothers day.

Peter

April 14, 2004

i just wanted to welcome the academy to the family. it's cool cause i've seen these guys go from the beginning and now we're here....

- petey

April 15, 2004

“who dares wins.”

i have been having such a rad time at home. but i must admit i haven't gotten used to sleeping with out hearing my friends breathing in hotel rooms. my bed doesn't feel the same. we leave again today. i am excited to see old friends. i am excited to see some bands too. the full clandestine website is going to launch on april 22 at www.clandestineindustries.com - we'll have some gear at the next couple of shows.

i was gonna post some pictures of my experiments with shaving and hair dye here. but i don't know how so go on over to: www.fueledbyramen.com/journal to see em.

love peterlewiskingstonwentz

i've found that liars always sing the loudest. heart in mouth, ego on sleeve. you've always got the right girl and the right line. i swear to god, take this mic and cross my heart and hope you die. i'm singing this one just flat of the key of love. liars always sing the loudest. the act is getting old but i'm sure all the fools will follow like vermin down the hole.

April 15, 2004

hey jerks. i got bored and dyed my hair red and black- oooh scary. when i am home i only wear sweatpants and don't shave. here's a look into the life of a loser:

make me say ugh nahnahnahnah

[image here]

there's that quarterback smile we all hate 

[image here]

born to lose 

[image here]

pretty emo bro, you could use this one to score on live journal 

[image here]

and here's the after shaved and ready to do some stagedives. new jersey or bust. 

[image here]

this may in fact be photo evidence that i am gay 

[image here]

now that we have that out of the way. the full clandestine site should launch on april 22. we'll be selling some gear at skateandsurf and at a couple of these shows on the way out. tour never ends. for real go and listen to my friend ben's band, it's called Not Enough Gold. they smoke. our tour this summer is gonna be called "believers never die" get into it. sorry for all the pictures, this ain't my space biatch, send me some.

1 2 3 L U V!

- petey

April 26, 2004

so much has been going on. my head has been moving too fast, i can't catch up. clandestineindustries.com is up.

i've got a picture from skate and surf in new jersey. we will have more soon, excuse the quality. you can see how insane this room was.

[image here]

- petey

[djsadbean]

how to improve drawing kinda fast:

ditch lineart for a bit (this way its easier to part with things that aren’t working)

use a REALLY thin brush

copy, copy, copy art you think is ✨art goals✨

don’t post that stuff tho :O

if you need to trace at first, thats fine lol but break away from that eventually!! you gotta train your eyes to draw what you see, spatial awareness is very important

copy hands, poses, expressions, anything you wanna get better at

don’t copy from refs that are way too simple to be used as a “master study”, like from the calarts shows etc.

copy from stuff thats kinda complex bc if you learn how to draw it in that complex way, you can always simplify it if you want ^^

im pretty sure this is how many of us have become obsessed with hip dips details LOL

if something looks off, flip ur canvas, mess with ur sketch, or even delete (or hide) parts of the sketch and try again. if you drew it once, u can draw it again. (erase or hold up the page to the light backwards if drawing on paper)

being cool with parting with your sketch if its not working will make you a better artist

youre allowed to frankenstein refs together lol (a hand from here, a mouth from there...)

if youre having trouble making your sketches look like theres actual shapes, try shading :D

literally the only reason i shade now is to show the shapes of objects in more of a painterly way (its not just for paintings btw, its just easier to describe it that way)

try new things that youre excited about like perspective, anatomy, blah blah

copy!!!! while youre copying it’s gonna be cool to see how much you remember when you try it on your own

scribble a doodle as often as you can, not like urgently, but like as something to look forward to (like how lots of ppl look forward to wordle everyday lol)

this list can apply to anyone but its fine if you wanna take some advice and leave some if it doesn’t work out. this list is mostly just to get you comfortable with sketching and learning, not performing.

I mention that “not performing” thing bc its easy to want to please social media platforms because that attention and validation can feel amazing! 

but its also addicting because many of us crave being in a community and talking to ppl who like the same things we do

there are many communities out there from artist youtubers, artist streamers, etc. and many of them have discords and stuff and it might be fun to join! and/or join fandom ones if u want ^^ 

that way you have something thats not bound by if ig decides to not show your post to your followers or something

there’s also lots of other platforms that aren’t social media based specifically for artist communities too!

with this said, please be safe! never give out private info and you’re always free to block/report ppl who make u uncomfortable or ask weird things. 

on the topic of being in communities... reblog art you like! comment the nice things youre thinking in the tags or in an actual comment! share art you like on your ig story!

firstly, this is great for making friends

secondly, the artist cant read ur mind so they don’t hear anything nice youre saying :(

comments can be so motivating!! hearing nice things from my mutuals about my art feels great bc of that authentic human connection we’ve all been missing for like 2 years now

if i see a mutual drawing something and i think “omg they did amazing with the expression!” i write it (ive also been told i leave comments as if im talking and its kinda funny to read sometimes xD)

its channeling “girls support girls” culture in a way lol we’re our best when we’re lifting each other up <3

luv ya, be safe!! and draw lots of things!! :D

add stuff that’s helped you improve kinda fast if u want too! if we put all our brain cells together we’ll be unstoppable heheh

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

The Tournament of Elements episode 5-6

Dont get me wrong i love dareth but why is he the most prominent side side character in the show

Coles whistling sounds so pretty

I love how Cole accepted his faith, giving up, but then he found Zane, gaining a whole new motivation to escape.

Its canon that Dareth nows makeup :)

It was so funny how Nya just kept swatting Jays face until he fucking paid attention and looked 💀

Nya: that means theres a spy!

Literally ten seconds after skyler gives Kai the message she got from cole

Kai: a spy… its a good thing we have some people we can trust. thanks skyler!

Omfg i cant with him

Cole: Time to break out!

(Starts running on the conveyor belt and eating pasta as a show of rebellion)

BFJSNFJDNJR

It was so unexpected

Cole doesnt have his super strength or his elemental powers and he’s still taking on 12 guards at a time and winning

Nevermind

HE GOT THE KEYS

Zane: Cole.. you came back.

Cole: of course i did you shiny new tin can!!! (Hugs him) can you feel the love!

Zane: no.

Cole: ☹️

I really thought Nya was gonna just run away but ripping the spell page out of the book is so smart

Zane: the serpents strategy is very clever-

Cole: WERE ABOUT TO BE EATEN, ZANE.

Cole: pixal?!?!? you got a girl stuck in your head?!?!!!

Coles lines are always the best

Chen: youre harshing my viiiibe 🙄💅

Holy shit dareth can actually sing, good for him

A painting falls on Jay and suddenly hes immobile, get yourself together my guy

Kinda crazy how there's spys on both sides here

Oh wait

The title is ‘spy for a spy’

I'm stupid

The ninja will be like ‘a ninja should-’ and ‘a ninja shouldnt’ and then just say basic morals

Nya is such a girlboss in this

See this is what im talking about when I say she knows how to fight

Its so cool that one of the most intense battles we get in a season called ‘the tournament of the elements’ is nya against clouse

Ohhhh okay so skylers his daughter

Honestly thought she was his granddaughter with how old he was

Jay: they want us to hunt nya down! She wont stand a chance!

Jesus jay have a little faith in her, now ik what she means when she said you dont take her seriously

Ik Skyler is withering in guilt bc everytime she talks to Kai it's like ‘yes, im here for a loved one and im trying my best, oh and that's my sister were all hunting down, another loved one.’

He doesn't catch a break

Why did they ALL let go of their parachutes when the floor gave way.

Lloyd saving his father by giving him the parachute and Garmadom immediately growing worried and angry is just- 👌

Wait Lloyd can make an energy dragon?

Thought that was something he could only do as the golden ninja

Maybe the golden power was like a boost. Helped him work his powers better and now it's more difficult.

Can all the ninja do that? Is that like a thing? Making an energy dragon?

Nya is so smart she's great

Coles covered in powder AGAIN why does he keep doing this

Zane: with all our combined weight, escaping through the system should be fine.

Darreth enters the scene

Cole: time to think up another plan

That was so mean 😭

Chen was always just like that huh

Garmadon was so… sincere. So good even when evil was consuming him. He didn't even want to replace Wus love letter with his name

Okay yeah I fucking hate Chen he can rot in hell.

Kai: maybe we should be together- wait no that didnt come out right. I mean its a big island so maybe if we were a couple. Wait no! What i mean is-

Hes so in deep

Hes so ‘confident’ and flirtatious like that girl at the gas station but when he actually likes someone hes such a goofball :)

Mr pale: youll never get away with this chen.

Chen: Really? Where have you been! Ive been getting away with this time and time again!

I cant believe they showed that the master of flight was killed and due to that he had no descendent to give his power to

The tea lady!!!!

Kai and Nyas parents :)

Its so nice to see these cameos

Dont the anacondrai generals come back sometime in skybound?

Wait I thought Wu and Misako knew about Garmadons letter and him training under chen

Cole: okay, so maybe rolling ourselves up into giant eggrolls isnt the best plan.

Karlof: we could make a roto jet

Zane: that could actually work!

Cole:

Cole: we’re UNDERGROUND.

Okay but what is actually inherently wrong with clouses use of the dark art.

From what i can tell, its able to use a bit of every element and more but what's wrong with it other than how him using it for malicious intent

Holy shit Jay just fucking exploded

SKYLER.

How did she not think that through

You JUST used the ice power of the friend Kais literally searching for

On the other hand she was being really truthful at that moment in wanting to make sure Kais friends were okay and in a moment of desperation, used Zanes power. Which she would not have done if she was thinking carefully about keeping herself hidden as the spy.

The way they animate Skyler makes her so emotionless. Like, give my girl more than one expression.

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[robinrequiems]

i wonder what a random person stumbling across my page and then seeing a shit ton of random rambles would say. anyway.

cashier damian:

• ok. so this is a world where Damian lives with dick 100%ly of the time because Bruce never came back to life:)

• and also this is a regular universe/no capes

• so they live in bludhaven with alfred

• dick sorta. spoiled damian a bit. by accident. and Damian needed to learn the glory of being a cashier at a shitty grocery store that has flickering lights and smells disgusting.

• so he made damian get a job, Damian needs to relish in the experience of making his own money. it’ll do him good

• he works friday night and on Saturday + Sunday.

• and jon once came in at like.. 11 pm to get food since he and his friends were road tripping around since jon finally got his license.

• and they somehow ended up in bludhaven. oops. which was like.. hours away. they are so dumb.

• but anyways. they are in a shady looking convenient store in one of the most crime ridden areas known to man.. they picked up some chips and sodas and went to the only open lane.

Jon: hi!

Damian: hello.

Jon: beautiful night isn’t it?

Damian: not really, bludhaven is the opposite of beautiful.

Jon: welll im looking at someone beautiful right now.

Damian: you and i have very different definitions of beautiful.

• damian would never count himself beautiful, not with the permanent resting bitch face and tired eyes. he knew he looked like a mess. he had came from school where he already spent all his energy.

• after paying:

Damian: okay. go. I want to lock up and go home.

Jon: you’re going home this late? Isn’t that dangerous?

Damian: Yes. I live life on the edge.

• jon couldn’t understand that, jon barely did anything rebellious or dangerous.. holy shit he’s gonna be in so much trouble. so jon quickly ran out of the store and into his car, basically throwing the bag of snacks at tai ( sorry tai )

• damian just watched as that all happened and casually began closing up the store, wondering who the hell that boy even was.

neighbors:

• when Damian moved to metropolis to study at metropolis u, he did not expect to have a overwhelming roommate who literally took damians boxes for him and took them to his apartment. even though Damian said he didn’t want him to

Jon: oooh, your place is so nice! oh im jon, by the way!

Damian: okay, now get out

• and that was the first time damian shooed the boy out of his apartment

• damian had alfred the cat living with him, and that little bastard ran out his door and into jons apartment. Damian was so close to just letting alfred stay there. He didn’t want to talk to this guy. This guy was weird

• but here he was. knocking on the door.

Jon: heyy neighbor!

Damian: my cat.

Jon: y-huh?

Damian: my cat ran in here when you had your door open.

Jon: oh! Well come in!

• jons place wasn’t messy, besides the amount of soda cans on the table. oh and now jons friends were staring at him. he wanted to commit murder

Jon: everyone! This is my neighbor!…

Damian: Damian.

Jon: Damian! Isn’t he—

Damian: Alfred.

Jon: huh?

Damian: I came here for my cat, idiot.

Jon: ohhh yeah yeah

• what rhe hell was jon on to be this hyper??

• damian spotted the dumbass sweet cat on the counter and went to grab him before trying to leave quickly because he got what he wanted

• but of course. jon tried to stop him

Jon: you aren’t gonna stay??):

Damian: no.

• and failed

• the next time damian saw him was when he was trying to hold boxes and reusable grocery bags

• jon went to help since damian looked like he was going to drop them all

• damian appreciated it

• he did not appreciate the fact jon was just walking around his apartment like he owned the place

Jon: did you paint these?

Damian: yes.

Jon: they’re beautiful

• damian will never admit that he was blushing or felt. happy. he liked compliments okay

• but still. getting jon out of his apartment was hard

Jon: sooo, do you work?

Damian: no, i go to metropolis university.

Jon: no way! Me tooo!

• ugh.

• after getting Jon out the room, he finally had peace

• until the week after where Damian saw jon walking to the university. In the rain. He.. okay. He isn’t a shit human being.

Damian: hey, idiot!

Jon: huuhh? Oh! Hey, neighbor

Damian: get in the car

Jon: wha-???

Damian: im kidnapping you.

• so that’s how Damian ended up riding with Jon on the days they had a class at the same time

• damian doesn’t know how he got into this mess

• and alfred apparently is such a little asshole and keeps running out the door whenever he opens it to leave and tries to get to jon

• ( alfwed the cat is a matchmaker :)) )

• jon and Damian became closer eventually

• spending the night at each other’s.

• cuddling. borderline dating..

• oh. borderline dating. ah shit.

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that. 

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

ello loves,  part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn 

Part 1

-

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry.  She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

-

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in,  but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have  gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

-

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

-

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”  

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”  

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

[crow-in-a-teapot]

tower of nero spoilers

i have just finished the tower of nero. and before i go searching for other people’s thoughts and art and more of the characters i love so much, i want to write down some of my own thoughts because i know as soon as i delve into that ‘ton spoilers’ hashtag there are going to be complaints and criticisms and so much that i don’t want to hear, or essays that’ll make me upset, or things that’ll change my perception on the book (because on this website people really love to hate the trials of apollo).

i want to start with: i loved it. it didn’t feel earth-shattering or huge and momentous like some of my favourite riordanverse books (house of hades, the blood of olympus, the last olympian and maybe some of the magnus chase books take those pedestals for me) but it was satisfying. and i think it was satisfying because it in no way felt like an ending. whether because eventually rick will write that will-and-nico-go-through-tartarus-and-save-bob novella, or because we (or at least i) will continue writing and imagining and creating for this world i don’t know. he didn’t wrap up the story in a perfect little bow like ‘nineteen years later’, he simply put it on pause. gave us a glimpse of where every character was at at the end.

the only thing that makes me so angry and upset is that i did manage to get some spoilers for moments that i know would have been so good to experience for the first time if i hadn’t been spoiled for them. the moment where rachel mentions penguins in a mansion near her house, nico getting mental health advice from mr d, the fact that will and nico were going to be in the book for so much of the story, but the big thing was literally spoiled for me two days ago, it was the reason i sat down to read it as fast as possible because i was terrified of getting more spoiled and not being able to experience the moments for myself, was that piper had a girlfriend. i know that reading that for the first time would have been so cool and surprising, and the fact that when it came up for a moment in the last couple pages all i felt was disappointment because it was spoiled for me and because it was now tinged with whatever that person was saying about her having a girlfriend.

but i still had some warm fuzzy moments, the two parts where apollo thinks he’s going to die but nico comes up behind him - so good. impeccable. 

Leader Guy spat. ‘Now, I kill you.’

He raised his sword... and froze. His face turned pale. His skin began to shrivel. His beard fell out whisker by whisker like dead pine needles. Finally, his skin crumbled away, along with his clothes and flesh, until Leader Guy was nothing but a bleached-white skeleton, holding a sword in his bony hands. 

Standing behind him, his hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, was Nico di Angelo.

and

Nero raised his hand, ready to give the kill command, when behind me a mighty BOOM! shook the chamber. Half our enemies were thrown off their feet. Cracks sprouted in the windowsand the marble columns. Ceiling tiles broke, raining dust like split bags of flour. 

I turned to see the impenetrable blast doors lying twisted and broken, a strangely emaciated red bull standing in the breach. Behind it stood Nico di Angelo.

gods. poetic brilliance. i can’t believe i’m still a nico di angelo stannie in the year 2021. in five years i have not changed (ever since the tv show announcement last summer i have managed to morph into myself from 2017)

from here i’m not sure where to go next i kind of want to go through everything, except it’ll be more difficult than my tyrant’s tomb reaction because i wasn’t reading on a kindle and thus can’t just do funny little reactions to screenshots of quotes, so i’ll just skim through the book page by page and see what i can comment on (i’m not planning on doing analysis today, no thank you, just enjoying the end of my childhood and trying to squeeze as much out of it as possible)

i have an emotional attachment to mr. snake from the very first chapter, and am very upset that he’ll never get off on his baltimore stop and get to see his wife, lu had no reason to shoot and kill him like that.

that brings me to lu, i liked her, it was interesting to see how rick kind of brought in not only the overarching theme of abuse, but also people who let the abuse happen, i have more i could say on this i’m too lazy to right now, and i promised no analysis - or the fact that Lu had conspired to make the show non-lethal to spare Meg’s feelings rather than - oh, I don’t know - refusing to do Nero’s dirty work in the first place and getting Meg out of that house of horrors. 

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to opppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything.

the parallels to meg and lester heading to percy’s apartment, and then to camp half blood to the hidden oracle was so cool to read, every callback to the hidden oracle just there to remind us readers exactly how far apollo has come and how he’s changed; the entire chapter with sally, paul and estelle just felt sickly sweet, it just didn’t seem real how wholesome and good that family is, like i get why apollo broke down and just sobbed in that shower.

also rick really saying acab again in toa, i thought he was done after that elf cop chapter in magnus chase (the magnus chase series is a masterpiece) but apparently not, with A ‘good cop’ is still a cop... still a part of the mind game.

the grey sisters, i forgot about them completely but this threw me back into was it the sea of monsters when annabeth summoned them? i’m not sure, it could have been the lightning thief either, they really remind me of the disney hercules movie. the whole ganymede paragraph was gold, i love gods being canonically confirmed lgbt in the riordanverse. i also love the whole eye-tossing part - 

‘He will crush our eye,’ Anger cried, ‘if we don’t recite our verses!’

‘I will not!’

‘We will all die!’ Wasp said. ‘He is crazy!’

‘I AM NOT!’

‘Fine, you win!’ Tempest howled.

also, the explanation for why dionysus chooses to look the way he does was perfect, because it was something i often wondered about and wasn’t expecting to get an explanation for, and i imagine the whole mythological dionysus to look like.. well like a more feminine apollo i guess, beautiful in a gender non-comforming way.

Other Olympians could never comprehend why Dionysus chose this form when he could look like anything he wanted. In ancient times, he’d been famous for his youthful beauty that defied gender.

... 

In retaliation, Dionysus had decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared.

every scene with nico at camp just BREAKS ME, i would throw in screenshots of every damn quote but unfortunately, as said above, cannot and would rather not type every one; we’ll start with, obviously apollo confirming to him that jason is dead. 

He didn’t look angry exactly. He looked as if he’d been hit in the gut not just once but so many times over the course of so many years that he was beginning to lose perspective on what it meant to be in pain. He swayed on his feet. He blinked. Then he flinched, jerking his hands away from Meg’s as if he’d just remembered his own touch was poison.

ugh then will talking about how nico’s doing, confirming that he’s suffering with ptsd, mr d giving him advice, helping him sort though what voices in his head are real and which ones aren’t, then the paragraph that just recounts every horrific thing poor nico has been through, how will has to reassure him that he’s okay and ‘with friends’ when he wakes up after shadow travel

will’s kindness to apollo, buying him clothes, and apollo finding seymour the leopard’s head in his bed, put there by mr d aaaa AAAA A A A A A THE ORDINARY, EVERYDAY CAMP HALF BLOOD THINGS..

i could go on for years and years about how much i appreciate rachel having a big role in this book, and the visit to her apartment, everything, her art, the fact that she got what she wanted, she’s going to PARIS to study ART, she isn’t forced to be someone she’s not by her dad, and gets to be a big part of a demigod mission and not stand on the sidelines for once.

i love that her landscapes are still visions, that she still paints the quests demigods go on - the burning maze, jason’s funeral pyre, caligula’s ships; and how nico ~appreciates art~

‘And, hey, di Angelo -’ she pushed him playfully away from the canvas he’d been ogling - ‘don’t brush against the art! I don’t care about the paintings, but if you get any colour on you, you’ll ruin that whole black-and-white aesthetic you’ve got going.’

i. love. rachel.

WILL GLOWS!! THE HEADCANONS FROM LIKE FIVE YEARS AGO THAT YOU’D SEE FLOATING AROUND ABOUT HIM MANIPULATING LIGHT!! CONFIRMED!! CANON!! AMAZING

I AM  OBSESSED WITH THE TROGS, I LOVE THEM, THEY ARE GREAT, not gonna lie, i was expecting something more dramatic and spooky with how worried will was and how dionysus was going.. visiting the cavern-runners isn’t ♫ good for your mental health  ♫ but the little hat frog gremlins were a good addition. i like them very much and their funky little soup shenanigans. quoting the ghost king himself: trogs good. nice hats. (IM SORRY I KEEP MENTIONING HIM BUT I JUST) also how apollo starts wishing for breadsticks a s ajoke and theY STRAIGHT UP HAVE BREADSTICKS? HUH? WHERE DID THEY GET THE BREADSTICKS FROM??

yeah, i’m also still very much upset by every mention of jason grace, it’s funny how ever since his death in the burning maze i have grown to love him more and more and that’s not fun for me, for that boy to become one of my main comfort character’s and have his death and sacrifice and nobility mentioned every few chapters. i’m pretty sure i cried when he appeared to talk in apollo’s dreams, and this time the tears weren’t from the effort of keeping my eyes open and working for hours straight reading this book (i remember staying up until 2am to finish the sequel to beautiful, broken things, it was very much worth it)

‘All right, Jason. We miss you, though.’

ALSO. THE FACT THAT THIS KID. THIS CHILD. HAD TO THINK ‘BUT IF A HERO ISN’T READY TO LOSE EVERYTHING FOR A GREATER CAUSE, IS THAT PERSON REALLY A HERO?’ A KID ISN’T SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THAT AND BE READY TO SACRIFICE THEMSELVES FOR THE GREATER GOOD,, i,, ugh,, he’s supposed to be finishing school and designing temples not being the perfect hero and soldier,, spain without the s,,

as @couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name said: ‘thinking about how ghost! Jason didn’t seem to understand why Apollo was so upset about his death because he’s been raised to believe a hero’s sacrifice is noble and his life doesn’t matter in the grand scheme and also if he doesn’t understand why the person who watched him get horrifically killed is so torn up over his death he probably doesn’t even realize his other friends are grieving him..’

IM SO UPSET THE ARROW OF DODONA IS DEAD D: IT WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE CHARACTERS ALL THE FUNNIEST MOMENTS WERE BECAUSE OF THAT ARROW AND IT'S DEATH WAS SO SAD WTH LIKE WE FIND OUT HOW USELESS THE ARROW FELT AND HOW THE GROVE OF DODONA ALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CRAP AND WOULD FAIL APOLLO AND THEN ONCE WE FEEL BAD FOR IT, IT DIES??

the entire python battle was pretty grim, there is a part of me that's like because this is the last book series i would have loved say the magnus chase and kane chronicles gang in a giant battle with everyone like the battle of manhattan but even more dramatic, but even so, i did appreciate that python battle and the whole almost-falling-into-the-depths-of-tartarus thing.

him talking to artemis was cool, but JESUS: 'I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked.' like that HURTS. it was such a huge culture shock for apollo to go throught this huge character arc and be so human and understand the pain of others, to be around gods again who are so.. apathetic. also, zeus. 'Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let's be honest: some fathers don't deserve that. Some aren't capable of it.'

OKAY OKAY SO THE END?? CHIRON TALKING TO A CAT (BAST) AND A SEVERED HEAD (MIMIR) ABOUT SHARED PROBLEMS WITHIN THE PANTHEONS!! WILL AND NICO RECEIVING A PROPHECY FROM RACHEL TO GO TO TARTARUS AND SAVE BOB!! THE HUNTERS OF ARTEMIS, INCLUDING THALIA AND REYNA BEING BEST FRIENDS (qpr.. qpr..) HUNTING THE TEUMESSIAN FOX!! PERCY, ANNABETH AND GROVER, THE ORIGINAL TRIO, GOING ON A CHAOTIC ROAD TRIP TOGETHER!! - SO MANY STAND-ALONE SET -UPS PFSJSJSJ

okay quick word on the reunions at the end: funny little elephant visitation program with livia and hannibal. love that for them. calypso and leo's relationship seems rocky and complicated, but that's to be expected, i think even if they do get properly back together again it might not last long, because it does pretty much feel like a teenage relationship where the two aren't very compatible, but we'll see. hazel and frank are so funny with their gold plated necklaces. lavinia - tap-dance icon. almost cried at the mention of jason's temple-extension plan again. percy not being sure about what he wants to do in college is accurate and i like that that's left to be up-for-interpretation (rick does THE MOST for the fanfic writers pfsjsj). i am OBSESSED with aeithales, like i hate deserts so the burning maze setting is not my favourite but GOD that HOUSE, the vibes are off-the-charts. i'd love a house made of living trees that's also a greenhouse filled with dryads. meg gets a unicorn. that is so great.

i kind of wish the book hadn't ended with 'Call on me. I will be there for you.' because every time I imagine the friends theme song and i don't think that's the vibe he was going for, BUT i do love him talking to meg, that was genuinely emotional - 'You'll come back?' she asked. 'Always,' I promised. 'The sun always comes back.' ; i really wish it had ended with that, but i guess apollo does tend to break fourth walls and talk to the readers, like a lot of the protagonists of riordanverse books.

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It��s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

[friththetraveller]

woah hay i forgot to post this !!

this was just gonna be like a fun doodle supplement for ease of explanation to the campaign im running right now but i let myself keep drawinnng so it ended up being like ... a full-on micro ethnography sketchbook found in a druid enclave’s library on a tribe of friendly goblins instead lol

somewhere down the line i might finish up a copy of these in my usual art style but this was good fun to mess about with, and an excuse to play with some nice fine liners id just bought <.<

i’ll waffle a little more under the cut to save your dashboards :L

an art !! hurrah !!

SO basically i have a subrace homebrew table in my giant folders of Stuff

of the goblinoids your basic gob has the most subraces, and one especially rare one is Woodwose! my D&D contains a heaping cup of nuance because original 70s D&D was a Smashy Game and i like worldbuilding, so not ALL goblins of any subraces are inherently evil, but woodwose are m u c h more likely to coexist with their neighbours than use theft and bonks on the head as a survival strategy than your average bunch of goblins. i think of them as being softly furred like a greyhound with little to no head hair, opposed to the standard goblin which may be more wiry or sparse in hair in a human-like pattern

SO this is what these guys are :’> Neverwinter Woods’ resident band of Woodwose; traders in hard to reach goods from deep in the woods - a pretty dangerous undertaking for those who dont know the mysterious forest well. AND their most prized trade goods are the products of the deep forest bees, especially their honey  - deep and bright like maple syrup, tangy and piney, surprisingly sharp and unsweetened. It makes the most excellent mead in the Savage Territories, if not the world. some herbs the bees collect from can make the honey a little psychoactive if you know what to look for ... the supply channels are narrow and their trust is hard to gain, and they trade for specialist goods they have difficulty crafting themselves - such as metal for prized weapons, special food or cloths, or raw materials their territory doesnt produce in high volumes.

they rehome these bees in large open hive rings as well as keeping an eye on local swarms out in the woods, they maintain a few permanent gardens near big populations but employ hidden slash and burn groves, and they keep the large and sturdy Cragfoot goats - descended from Hotenow Ibex - for work and milk, and then their bodies. materials at the end of their life. what meat they eat comes from some sparse hunting and occasional fishing in the web of rivers.

they live in little stone roundhouses, supplemented by stone-bottomed barns, tall wooden granaries and pit-fridges, tent lean-tos, often all ringed by stone banks, and use wooden vats and coil pots (some of the best potters pattern their work). they are usually adept at moving in treetops too, with networks of pegs and hidden ladders, climbing loops and platforms along trails and around houses

they mostly dress in rough cloth and leather, protection made of bone or wood and with their best warriors using traded mail for extra defence. jewellery is made of wood and bone, and some decorative furs are obtained by chance. the best of these goes to the chief and the shaman who co-ordinate the group. they decorate themselves and the outer walls of their structures with paints of white, green and grey.

ive REALLY grown to love these guys a lot i wanna draw them more and colour this art sometime ... here’s some art labels left to right top to bottom :’>

Page One

seasoned honey-hunter collecting honey from a wild hive

youngster with a large slab of honeycomb

a kept hive filling out the inside of one of the hive-rings

an empty hive-ring with a swarm-catching basket

mashing honeycomb through a mesh to collect the wax and honey ready to separate over heat

the gear of a honey-hunter or hive-tender; their body is rubbed in a coat of fresh ashes, arms and legs more wrapped than usual, they carry a smoke-torch to pacify the bees and a large knife to cut the wax , they wear mesh over their eyes and plug their nose to protect from bees and some of the smoke.

(all jars) a small lightly patterned jar, a much larger more decorated jar with fibre rope on the handles, a large dugout wooden vat, a patterned corked decanter or teapot with fibre string handle and cup.

Page Two

Cragfoot goat harnessed to a simple trundle cart made of a large carrying frame fitted with wheels

a shaman applying new paints to a young Woodwose before a new first for them (like a hunt, trade mission, bee-catching etc)

a senior shaman performing ritual divination

on farming duty, using a digging stick to move soil and a carrying frame to keep young babies safe

typical stone roundhouses with wooden rooves, with a rise and lip to let smoke out of the top

an empty carrying frame made of wood and woven fibres, no straps or wheels attached

using a carrying frame on their back

bribing a goat with fruits to shear its thick fur ready for summer

(tools) bone hooks, toggles, needles, awls, stoppers etc; stone chisel; stone hammer; fishing spear; knitting needles; wooden spoon; wooden digging stick

Page Three

skilled archer in an antler hat and mail skirt

spear-carrying warrior in a fur cape and mail skirt

band of happy hunters coming back with birds and hares

(weapons) stone spear, metal sword, metal machete, metal knife, bone-pointed darts and blowdart-tube

highly esteemed warrior, possibly a chief, wearing a fox skin and mail skirts, and carrying a metal sword

hunter setting up snare traps, showing illustrator how it works with a stick

scout with a blowdart-tube, having fun in the branches of a trail tree fitted with climbing loops and pegs

[leerongrong]

of peaches and clichés.

Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: In which you’re Jaemin’s chemistry tutor and he’s your cliché flirty high school bad boy.

Requested: yes // im not creative enough to think of an idea but i crave your writing so im gonna try and request lol. chenle fluff? dkjfid i have no idea on specifics, sorry if this didnt help. or some flirty badboy!jaemin im weak for that

The sun's shinning down, rays breaking through clouds onto the school's rooftop. Winds sweep across your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering along with your textbook pages in the wind. Screeching shoes from the basketball team are heard from below, along with the coach's whistle and shouts. Your earphones block out most of the noise, a melody to help calm down your nerves from the stress of school work.

"Well, look who I ran into." A male's voice breaks you from murmuring the lyrics to the song, even going as far to startling you until the textbook previously lying on your lap is flung away. "I would say it was a coincidence, if I believed in them."

Your eyes trail to black shoes just in front of you, keeping track of the hands that bend down to retrieve the pink, tossed away textbook. Your eyes are trailing up onto the figure, taking in the sight of a slightly worn out leather jacket and an odd tuff of blue hair.

Every high school has a stereotype to them; some with big brain nerds, maybe even buff jocks that push said nerds into lockers. Others have preppy cheerleaders that smile and flirt at every living thing, or a gathering of Goth teens that only hang out with their own clique. You've never had an opinion of them, simply choosing to live your own life alongside your pack of friends who are deemed "smart" and ultimately being labeled as the school's good girl.

The white canvas, the teacher's pet, the school's innocent, the extremely sweet girl capable of making anyone smile, those are the names you've been called throughout high school. Not that you minded them, they're just labels put there by people who never even knew you.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" The epitome of a high school stereotype would be the one standing just right in front of you; Na Jaemin, the school's bad boy who's never seen wear anything but a leather jacket and skinny jeans, the one that goes around with whispers following him like the plague, the one who breaks heart after heart when he's bored, the one you got assigned to tutor chemistry. "Because if I'm not wrong, you fell head over heels the moment I came through that door."

The need to suppress your smile exceeds the need to take your book back.

"Besides, who wouldn't fall for me?" Jaemin's flirting is something you've only heard of previously, hallway whispers going around about his sweet words that make girls fall for him. You've only got to experience the end of it just two months ago, after your first tutor session had begun, the boy never failed to spew sweet nothings at you, at first driving you crazy with how much time he wastes flirting instead of studying. "But why would you throw away the book I gave you?"

The sight of his exaggerated pout makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, something that's been happening after tutoring Jaemin. Your friends had warned you to stay away from him, to decline the teacher's offer of an added grade if you succeeded in raising his grades. You don’t know what came over you to agree into something like tutoring, at first what you thought was, a lost cause like Jaemin. You remember feeling bad for lying to your friends, telling them that you needed the extra grade when in reality your grades have been stable and you didn't need any extra credits.

The butterflies explode once more when his pout turns into an attractive smirk you've seen him paint on his face multiple times. You're ducking your head in hopes he doesn't see the blossoming blush on your cheeks, not sure whether you want someone to burst into the rooftop to save you from your embarrassment or to spend a few minutes with him.

You're not sure when you started developing feelings for Jaemin. All your life you’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight, always seeing the logical side, explaining to Jaemin that falling in love happens slowly but gradually, declining his objections and telling him repeatedly that love doesn't happen overnight, it happens with unspoken moments and sweet words between two people intertwined with each other.

Maybe it started two weeks after your first tutoring session; the first time you ever saw Jaemin asleep in the library after the two of you decided to study after school, the day you remember seeing dark bags under his eyes after forcing him to study with you over the phone, the day you gathered enough courage to sweep away the, then brown, bangs from his eyes.

”Studying again?” The librarian’s voice pulls your attention away from your phone, snapping your gaze towards her smiling face before you’re smiling yourself, nodding at her question. “With company today, I see.”

“Company? What do you mean?”

You see her nod her head and you’re forced to squint when you see a hooded figure sleeping on the table you normally sit at. “He’s been here for over an hour already, sleeping.”

The library’s silent, with no one but you, the librarian, and the sleeping figure on the desk. The air is warm but windy, perfect weather to study in if it weren’t for the mysterious person sitting in your spot. You’ve got half the mind to start talking to the person and wake him up when you round the table and see that it’s Jaemin. Your heart softens at the sight of his soft brown hair, make shift bed made with chemistry books, more so when you see the bags under his eyes.

Guilt starts eating at you when you remember you’re the one who practically forced him to stay up all night with you, studying for your pre-chemistry test that’s coming next week. You’re gathering the books around him, gently pulling the one under his head and replacing it with your neck pillow instead, the sight of him sleeping in a slightly better position lessening your guilt.

Hours pass just like that, the librarian signaling for you to pack up while you’re stretching your stiff joints. In the few hours, you realize that Jaemin looks nothing like the front he puts up every day when he’s asleep, he doesn’t look as rugged and mischievous, he looks more soft and nice like this. Another thing you notice is how soft his hair looks without any added products, the color reminding you of hot cocoa on a winter day.

Your eyes are darting back and forward on his face, searching for any signs he’s beginning to wake up, heart starting to beat slightly fast at the thought of being able to run your fingers through his hair. The librarian’s still moving around somewhere behind you and you’re cautiously lifting your hand up to his head, fingers slightly brushing against his tresses.

“If you wanted to touch, you could have asked.”

The yelp that pulls out of you has Jaemin smirking, said boy lifting both his hands up above his head to stretch. “And don’t think I didn’t catch you staring,” he smirks, “You can stare for however long you want, I won’t judge.”

Your face flushes red and you’re quick on your feet, dashing away out of the library after collecting your bag and essentials, leaving Jaemin alone with your abandoned neck pillow still in his hands. Jaemin’s smiling, hands playing with the peach shaped pillow while he’s staring at where you were sat.

“Cute.”

It could have started on the third week after your club activities; when you ran into Jaemin for the first time that day, getting the surprise of your life when you saw his freshly dyed pink hair. Getting another surprise when he dragged you into the library for a study session, when he didn't need a tutoring for another 2 days. It was the first day butterflies erupted in your tummy when he told you he dyed his hair pink because pink reminded him of you.

Banter is tossed around while you’re laughing along with your friend. Your club activities just finished and you’re itching to go to the library for a much needed alone time, between your classes and tutoring Jaemin, there isn’t much time left for you to recollect your thoughts.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Your friends around you are all suddenly whispering, some fixing their hairs, others reapplying their lipsticks and you’re left wondering at the sudden change of attitude until Jaemin comes strutting down the hall with his usual leather jacket and not so usual bright pink hair. “Hi, peaches.”

“Peaches?” you choke out, “Who’re you calling peaches?”

“You.” He’s grinning at you, hands tugging at yours to pull you away from your peers and you’re slightly stumbling at his fast paced footsteps. “Or if you don’t like it I can call you Babe? Baby? Sweetheart?”

“Oh, I know!” He clicks his finger, “How about I call you mine?”

You force out a snort at his blatant flirting, thanking the Gods he’s not looking back at your frame, or else the full on blush on your face would’ve been blown. “Where are you taking me? Isn’t this the way to the library? Jaemin I don’t have to tutor you today.”

You’re met with silence as he continues to tug you into the library, waving a quick hello to the librarian when you pass her along the way. You bump into Jaemin’s chest when he suddenly stops in front of you and you’re on your tip toes when you see him pick an object up from your usual desk. “What are you doing?”

“You wanna know why I dyed my hair pink?” You’re sighing when he ignores your question, your patience running thin from your stolen ‘me time.’ He’s turning around and you’re shocked to see your peach neck pillow in his hands along with a chemistry test paper with the numbers 87 at the top left corner.

“My grades went up, thanks peaches.” He’s leaning down to your height, and goosebumps start to arise on your skin when his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “And I dyed my hair pink because pink reminds me of you.”

That day you’re the one left alone in the library, with a hand resting on your cheek, on the spot where Na Jaemin just kissed you.

Maybe it started on the fifth week when nature had decided to rain you in after school, all alone after studying for a physics test in the library, with the only other person there being Jaemin, who had to stay back for a physics make up test. The boy covering you with his beloved leather jacket, running under the rain all the way to your house which had resulted to him being absent the next day, getting a cold. 

“You bring an umbrella, peaches?”

Jaemin’s voice snaps you out of your stare off with the rain, said boy standing next to you with nothing but his leather jacket in hand and his backpack on his back. His previously bright pink hair has now been washed out, leaving only bits of light pink to color his hair and you’re embarrassed to say that it matches exactly with your peach neck pillow.

“No,” you mumble, “I’m guessing you didn’t too?”

”Always the smart one in the relationship.” Jaemin’s taking off his leather jacket and you look to him in confusion when he sets it on top of your shoulder, slightly adjusting the material so that it covers your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why are you giving me your jacket?”

“I thought you were the smart one.” You open your mouth to banter with him, only to be cut of when he intertwines your fingers together. Your jaw falls slack and he’s laughing, pretending to push your jaw back up and fix it. “C’mon, peaches. Don’t tell me you’ve never watched kiss scenes under the rain before.”

Your stomach erupts with butterflies with the flirting that’s coming out of his mouth, and your hands feels warm encased in his much bigger ones. You’re watching as rain continues to fall from above, some drops slightly falling into Jaemin’s hair and there’s an unexplainable feeling that’s resting deep in you and you’re not sure you want to know what that feeling is.

“Let’s run!”

The run to your house is painfully quick, the two of you encased in laughter along the way while Jaemin had a minor heart attack when you almost slipped across a walkway, and now the roof of your house acts as a shield from the rain, both you and Jaemin still doubling over the stairs as you try to recollect your breaths.

You’re mostly dry, Jaemin’s jacket acting as a wonderful rain coat most of the way, while Jaemin’s drenched from head to toe. You’re eyeing the way his clothes stick onto him like second skin, how his backpack is completely drenched and you’re surprised when your fingers twitch when you eye the way his bangs are sticking onto his forehead. “You want to come in?”

“No,” He teases, “I don’t do that until the 4th date.”

You’re gasping at his innuendos and Jaemin lets out a laugh when you smack his chest, the laugh turning into a shriek when he topples over the stairs and onto the busy street. Your hands are reaching forward and grabbing at Jaemin by the front of his shirt, pulling at it with all your might until he crashes onto you, both of your chests glued onto each other.

Both your hands are on his chest while his are on your waist. The air’s warm with a bit of chill in the air, the dripping rain drops and honking car horns act as background music to you and Jaemin’s scene, the later pulling you flush against him and you feel your shirt dampen from the water on his shirt. You’re holding in a breath, head lifting up to meet Jaemin’s gaze, the feeling from earlier coming back to you ten times as strong as before, as if constricting your lungs, making it hard for you to breath.

Jaemin’s eyes flick from yours onto your lips and you’re clutching at his shirt, finding it harder and harder to ground yourself when it feels as if you’re floating in mid air. Jaemin’s head dips down and you debate on closing your eyes, until the soft weight of his lips come on yours and every doubt disappears from your mind. Your eyes are closed and you stand on your tip toes to deepen the kiss.

His lips are slightly chapped, tastes like rain water with a mix of something sweet. His grip on your waist relaxes when the two of you separate for air, Jaemin slightly dipping back in to leave a peck on your lips.  His mouth leaves yours fully when he leans back to look at you, hands coming up to caress your cheeks and slightly swollen lips. Your own hands works to sweep back his hair, letting you to finally get a clear view of his eyes.

Minutes pass while the two of you stare at each other, the moment finally breaking when Jaemin lets out a laugh and smile. “If all I had to do is give you my jacket and run in the rain for you to kiss me, I would’ve done it weeks ago.”

“Is a kiss all you wanted, Na Jaemin?” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you if it meant you leaving me alone.”

He’s pulling you into him again, eyes searching into yours while his lips stretch out into a smile. His hands tug at your cheek while he dips down once more, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Not a chance. I want you, all of you.”

“Hello?” Jaemin leans down to your level when you don’t answer, breaking you out of your memory daze. “Am I asking too many questions?”

“It always takes me a while to put words together.” You pout at him. “It’s not you.”

He moves closer, his heart-stopping smile returning onto his lips. “Oh? Is it when we’re alone like this I make you speechless?”

“We’re dating, Nana.” You laugh. “You don’t make me speechless, not anymore. Especially after I found out what a dork you truly are.”

“But I can still make you blush.” His hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you onto the railing and planting a kiss onto your kips, a spectacle anyone can see from all around the school. You let out a squeak when he bites onto your bottom lip, nibbling and dragging it with him as he breaks the kiss. You feel warmth spread all over your body, especially your cheeks, more so when he sends you his sweet-as-candy smile. “See? You’re too cute, peaches.”

The epitome of a high school stereotype would be the one standing just right in front of you; Na Jaemin, but now he’s the boy who got you a pink textbook just so you could match his hair, the boy who lends you his leather jacket when it’s cold, the boy who painted on blues, pinks, gold, reds and every color there is on your once white canvas.

You’re not sure when you started falling for Na Jaemin, all you knew was that falling for him wasn’t falling at all. It was walking into two arms and suddenly knowing you’re home.

“So does that mean you’re going to buy me a blue textbook?”

“Anything for my sweet peaches.”