#it upsets me but i also needed to force myself out of my old style

[mydream-synopsis]

im so sorry if you followed me thinking you’ll get art on a regular

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around. 

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear��, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 

“Hello,” Y/n began. 

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 

"My nephew does too!" 

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 

Left, right, left again, right again. 

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 

Damn! 

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 

He seceded first! HA! She won! 

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

[timeoverload]

I'm losing my mind and I don't want to feel this way. I don't think any amount of time by myself is going to make me feel better. I don't like being quiet all the time because it's boring. I already spend so much time alone. I am still sick but I just need to learn to live like this because I have no choice. I know I can still be successful with my disabilities. I'm stuck with this body forever and I need to just do the best I can. I still want to rest but I can't. I want to get better and I don't think isolating myself is going to help. I think I have a tendency to isolate myself when I am feeling overwhelmed. I need to stop doing that.

I can't stop thinking about you. I do love you and I'm always here for you even when we aren't speaking. I don't know how to approach you without triggering you. I'm not trying to reopen old wounds by not talking to you. I wasn't trying to punish you. I don't want you to feel like you aren't safe with me. I don't know if you want me to leave you alone or not. I don't know if you want space or not. I don't know what to do to help if you don't tell me. I don't know how to make things easier for you. I can't help someone who chooses to be dismissive and distant. I can't help someone who doesn't want my help. I don't know anything.

I wish you could prove that you care about me as much as you say you do. I can't force you to do anything. I don't understand why you want to keep my attention if you are only planning on keeping me at arm's length? If you aren't looking for a serious relationship, you are in the wrong place. I wish you could tell me what you want.

I think you're letting your guilt hold you back and that's not going to help anything. I forgive you. Sometimes it also seems like you enjoy living in fantasy land more than the real world. You would rather sit and pine about what you want instead of acting on it. You don't like having vulnerable or deep conversations. You avoid awkward situations as much as possible. You run away as soon as someone gets too close to you. I understand why that is difficult for you but it makes it hard to build strong connections with anyone that way.

I feel as though you are caught in a cycle and you don't know how to get out of it. I'm not sure if you want to get out of it. I'm not sure if you feel like you are set in your ways. I don't expect you to change for me.

I think you are also worried about committing because you hate it when the "honeymoon period" ends. When you truly love someone, the honeymoon phase never ends. I still feel the same way about you after all this time. You have upset me many times but it hasn't changed the way I feel. I know I have upset you too. Obviously we both still care about each other.

I am sorry for hurting you. I don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I don't know what your boundaries are or what you want from me. You are free to do whatever you want. I can't control you and I will never try. You aren't my boyfriend either, even though I wish you were.

I have come to the conclusion that it's unlikely that you will ever contact me no matter what I do. It doesn't matter how sweet I am or if I give you space. You are content where you are and I can't change that. I guess I just have to accept that you don't want a relationship with me or anyone. I am not going to get down on my knees and beg anyone for love. I understand that you don't think you need me and I can't change that. I'm not going to be annoying or bombard you with affection anymore because it doesn't seem like you enjoy that. I'm not going to send long sappy messages because it's not helping.

I am done with this push and pull dynamic. I'm going to stay where I'm at because I'm tired. I'm not going to chase you. You already know where I'm at. I don't want to be on an emotional roller coaster anymore.

I have been reading about attachment issues. It has helped me a lot so far. I recognize that I have an anxious attachment style and I need to work on that. I still think I am a lot better than I used to be but there is definitely room for improvement. I am going to do my best to stop worrying so much about things that I have no control over. I need to be better at self-soothing. I can't expect anyone to coddle me or hold my hand. I'm not going to expect people to calm me down because I am responsible for that. I shouldn't expect other people to listen to me vent about my problems all the time. I should keep that to myself more. I need to regulate my own emotions. I think I might need to get back on anxiety medication and maybe that would help too. I need to remind myself that there are a lot of supportive people in my life and I shouldn't try to rely on one person. I can't and I don't expect one person to be my primary source of happiness. I know I still need to do some introspection. I am working towards being more secure in myself so I can be more secure in a relationship if I ever get the opportunity to be in one again.

I want to start using tumblr again because I do enjoy being on here. I think I just needed a little break to think about stuff but this is my home. I am doing this for my own sanity. I can continue to work on myself while still getting to do the things that I enjoy. I shouldn't restrict myself from everything just because I don't feel good. It just makes me feel worse.

I am done reacting to things in a way that may be perceived as dramatic to others. I shut down sometimes and I need to try harder to avoid doing that. I don't want to be that way but that's also something I need to work on I guess. I don't always express my feelings in healthy ways.

I suppose I will resume my queue but I'm not going to have it set to post 24 times a day because that was a bit excessive. I want to have fun without overextending myself.

I just need to be more careful about what I post. I know I have said that in the past but I haven't been trying hard enough. I need to refrain from sharing too much about myself and I don't want to spend hours writing anymore. I have always had a problem with oversharing and I know I say a lot of shit that probably isn't appropriate. It isn't healthy and it also makes me look like a lunatic. Apparently I have 73 followers but only a few of them interact with me because I scared everyone else away with my antics. I shouldn't care so much about what strangers think but it does make it difficult to make friends on here. I have thought about making a side blog for my ramblings but I'm on the fence about that because I don't know if it would help me or not. I would probably have to keep it private. If anyone really wants to know what I'm up to, they can just ask.

I'm not going to talk about my health issues anymore because no one wants to hear about that either. I don't want to be a downer. I don't want to focus on that anymore. I'm not going to dump my problems on others. I'm tired of venting about that stuff because it's not going to make anything go away or get better. I'm tired of complaining and being negative.

I think I am just going to focus on enjoying my life by myself and do the things that make me happy. I am going to continue to tackle my mess on my own. There's not much else I can do. I will be ok. I'm not going to give up on myself. I think things will get better if I continue to work on myself and create more of a balance in my life. I am going to stay positive and grounded. :)

[thngsoftheconsciousmnd]

Today is Sunny but Chilly

Today's weather feels like it relates to me. It's finally been cooling off here in Japan and it's really insane that the weather changed so fast. It was boiling just a few days ago but I can easily wear a sweatshirt all day at school nowadays. I woke up from a very deep sleep today and wasn't that tired? Like I wanted to continue my sleep but I didn't wake up and just feel exhausted. I talked to my SO yesterday about my insecurities and the way he words things. We had the same conversation a few times prior and honestly it was really hard to just come out and admit my insecurities. I felt like I would be compared to the people around him. He finally cleared up this double misunderstanding we had. I had explained how I felt like he compared me to his models and that I'm less beautiful, and he never corrected me. So I know that was double swirling around in my head. However, hearing him reexplain it when I was in a more stable/sound mind allowed me to hear what he was actually saying. And honestly? I think it was a compliment. Where outer beauty isn't that important to him anymore but how a person really acts. I also told him that I felt like he put me on a tightrope and that if I fuck up he would just throw me away. He reassured me that wasn't the case. And said if I fuck up 100% he wants to help me only fuck up 80% next time. At the time it wasn't the answer I was expecting but I'm tearing up at this while writing it. I feel like I haven't had as many negative thoughts today (its early but lets keep the roll!).

I realized that in my past relationships I was with people that were willing to throw out their sense of self to fit a mold that I was forcing on them. I remember getting upset with my last SO and him just taking it. I remember telling him I hated it when he complained. If you complain, use that energy to go and fix what's bothering you. I think I took a lot of inner problems out on him, and got used to that toxic way of treating him. I realized recently (after taking my attachment style quiz) that things from the past just live rotting and festering under the surface. Things that I just buried and was like "yeah that didn't happen" did indeed happen and I can't just wish them away. I need to work on slowly digging some of those things up and giving forgiveness. Forgive myself and the other person.

I was rereading the "How to Stop Being a Narcissist" article again and saw this. "If you continue with unhealthy habits, like bashing or shaming yourself for being vulnerable, your behavior will never change. Everyone is imperfect and deserving of unconditional love. Practicing self-love can help you heal internal emotional wounds and develop compassion toward the world around you." I want to learn how to forgive myself and allow myself to make these mistakes. I'm imperfect and so is everyone else. It would be unfair for them to judge me as perfect. I struggle, maybe more than others do, but that doesn't make me wrong. I still deserve unconditional love. I remember thinking about how I beat myself up when I think of old memories that happened and the thought "but have I done that again ever since?" no? That shows growth.

Today is about realizing the coldness of the day but also realizing that I deserve a sweater to warm me up.

[absolutamente-todo-lo-contrario]

Life in 2022

Here I am, sitting in our cozy living room, thinking (cue possibly undiagnosed ADHD) oh I better light the candles to set the mood for my writing session. I am feeling unbothered about exercise and excited to just sit here and write. I have just gotten distracted again. Since starting this paragraph, I have gotten up to eat a hummus sandwich, turned on and switched my music, thought about meditating, lit some candles, turned on a table light, and done everything except face this fact: I want to write or create something epic. I have so many feelings and I don’t know if I’m getting good at understanding them or burying them or what bu I can tell you that right now I am feeling the vibe for some reason, which I hadn’t in ages. Also, something super funny is that all of a sudden I’m dead tired. My eyelids are heavy. 

I just thought that I missed having weed because passing out when your eyelids are heavy has a unique deliciousness to it, but I guess if I overanalyze it, as I tend to do with everything (cue smile), then I can surely say that... Oh my God my brain just went on this tangent as I was writing this and I swear it got super upset because I had a flashback of me doing my speeches for my speech class in college and I just realized that I’m not the public speaker I thought I was... which is pretty crazy but I was just thinking that it’s true what they say, if you lose practice you lose style and that means that I shouldn’t have lost practice and now I’ve lost my style but on the other hand I teach a room of five year olds on a regular basis and they don’t seem to get bored with my ways, so IDK... 

I was just looking at Instagram and saw this video with the guy who used to be married to Katy Perry, whose name I forgot but who was in Forgetting Sarah Marshall and I honestly love his podcast and everything. 

I am feeling so tired, that I low key am going to try to nap. 

I feel a bit disappointed in myself because I am writing what’s on my mind but not what’s on my soul. 

You want to know what’s on my soul? 

It’s blue, with holes that have endless sorrow for so many things. It hits an unpleasant softs spot right in the middle of my heart to think of all the misery in the world. All the darkness. I try to avoid it, I think. I want to eat up the world from a fantastical lens in which I’m a Disney princess, followed by clean birds, surrounded by sunshine and wearing lavish gowns that are magically made, never to leave a carbon footprint. 

Actually, my soul is phenomenal. The previous paragraph is more about a part of my outlook, especially when it comes to our connection (or, rather accurately, whatever the antonym for that is) with the mother nature, with our humanity. 

Edgar always said that we are nature. I miss asking him questions in the staff room. 

I wonder, sometimes, if being a one-time bestseller will set you for life. I don’t believe (which is hilarious because it’s my reality) in having to work 9-to-5. I don’t believe that work needs to be forced and structured. But I’m also lazy because I am really just asking for an easy life of stress free-ness. And I think it is all pointing to mindfulness and the power of now again. To letting things go. And in a funny way, in a way that contradicts the whole ego-centered world man has made, it is actually the easiest thing to do. 

I am going to lie down and be meditative for a minute. I am going to place my laptop on the table and let go of the stress that later on I will have to put it away in my cupboard. I am alive. I am no more or less wether I write a book, start a business or stay in my role. I make decisions that honor my wishes and feelings and that are noble and true. I am already free, I am happily discovering so. I am already complete. I am me. I am light. It is all right. Breathe. 

[nerdygaymormon]

Hi David, I don't remember if it was you or someone else who said this, but I remember seeing it said online that women were allowed to wear pants inside the temple. I wanted to tell you that I have learned, through sad experience, that this is not true. At least, not in Provo.

I hadn't been to the temple since I came out to myself as nonbinary, but upon seeing someone say girls could wear pants, I decided to renew my recommend and go to an endowment session. Long story short, I had a rough time prior to the session but they decided to let my attire slide, and then after I left the celestial room a man pulled me into an office to let me know that women were not allowed to wear pants inside the temple because they "want everyone to be the same" and me wearing pants might "cause a distraction."

I left the temple in tears. The worst part was that I had just had a wonderful conversation with Heavenly Father in the Celestial Room where the Spirit very clearly confirmed to me that I am nonbinary. And immediately after I was told that I would be forced to hide my identity (pretend to be a woman) if I wanted to enter the temple again.

This is partially an informative message, I want other afab people to know that this might happen if they try to wear pants in the temple, and it's also a vent. I am really upset. It hurt to finally go back home only to be rejected.

What a wonderful experience in the Celestial Room. You can hang onto that and pull it up in times when you need to affirm yourself.

————————————————————

I was once asked if a "woman" (someone who was afab) could wear pants and button-down men's style shirt at the temple. I asked temple workers where I live, and they asked the Orlando Temple president, who answered that would be fine. I posted my response to their question and since then I've heard from several people who wore white pants and a white shirt at the temple and how that helped them.

Yours is the first I've heard of getting a negative response. I'm very sorry that happened. Especially as it came right after a beautiful conversation with Heavenly Father.

—————————

I have learned that in the church handbook which came out in 2020, there is a section about clothing inside the temple, and it says this: "Women wear the following white clothing: a long-sleeve or three-quarter-sleeve dress (or a skirt and long-sleeve or three-quarter-sleeve blouse), socks or hosiery, and shoes or slippers."

—————————

Most temple workers want patrons to have a good experience and will not point out if you're wearing something less conventional. The temple workers I know are trained to treat the patrons with the belief they are doing the best they can and to help them have a good temple experience.

I'm guessing he's an older man who doesn't realize how inappropriate it is for a man to be criticizing a women about what she is wearing (I know you're nonbinary, but in his perspective you're female). He has no more authority to do that than any of the other workers

Plus, I think it's something about LDS culture in Utah, it seems there's a lot more policing and calling out when someone doesn't follow the traditional norms. Having grown up in places where LDS are a very small minority, we tend to be more relaxed when someone shows up and doesn't reflect the traditional LDS aesthetic.

—————————

If you want to go to the temple again and want to wear white pants instead of a dress or skirt, my suggestion is have a friend come with you, someone who'll be a shield for you to deflect those who might try to police what you wear. My guess is that old man is less likely to pull aside a person who is not alone. 

If that's not possible, try to walk along with others so it looks like you're part of their group. If a temple worker tries to pull you aside, politely say something like, "I'm sorry, I'm in something of a hurry," or "I'm sorry, I need to catch up with my party."

————————————————————

Thank you for sharing your experience with us so that we are aware this could happen. If someone afab decides to wear pants in the temple, they now know to think about how they might respond to the situation you described, and can determine if they feel resilient enough to deal with such an encounter.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

I'm OBSESSED w/the Howard Stern fic and I was wondering if you could write another interview w/ Howard like matbe it's the first interview after you had gone pubblic... there's a line in your fic “I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She’s not exactly like the other women you have a history with"...just like building on that and "I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses.."where yn is introvert,normal grl who helped H w/his mentalhealth

first of all thank you so much 🥺 it means a lot to me that you liked that other fic that much! i changed your request a little bit because i honestly couldn't picture harry opening up this much in an interview with howard stern slkfjdslkfj but i hope you like it!

tysm to @ssacalumsg0lden for beta reading for me :)))))

zane lowe

warnings: mentions of bad relationships

word count: 1.6k

"So what have you been up to, Harry?" Zane asked, leaning his arm against the picnic table.

"You know, the usual. Some music stuff," Harry said. "But I'm also trying to spend a lot of time with my family and friends. It's so hard to do that when you're on tour or working on a new album, it kind of takes over your life. So I like to try and make sure to do that whenever I'm able to."

"That's good, it helps to stay grounded."

Harry nodded. "It's very easy, I think, to get swept away from your normal life. So I try to surround myself with the people I love as much as possible, for the sake of my sanity," he laughed.

"That's good, it's important to do that," Zane nodded. "Do you notice a positive change in your mood now that you do that?"

"I do, very much," Harry nodded, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he smiled. "I've... There's a few new people I've gotten very close with, and it's made me so much happier."

Harry was, of course, talking about you. His girlfriend of one year. The woman who had changed his life.

Harry knew his relationship with you was different than ones he'd had before. Before, relationships weren't relaxing. They weren't something that made him feel safe, or a space for him to unwind after a long day. They were just something else he had to expend energy on. He was always performing, always trying to make his girlfriend happy, even if that meant sacrificing his own sleep, or comfort, or happiness.

But with you, it was different. For once, he didn't have to be anyone except himself. He didn't have to force himself to stay at afterparties for hours and hours, drinking too much and talking to people he didn't really know. He didn't have to come home after a long day, only to get cleaned up and get ready to go out for a fancy dinner. He didn't have to fake anything, not with you. He could just... be. For the first time in his life, he felt like he could completely be himself, no changes needed.

He had never really been with an introvert before; his previous relationships were always go go go. The next party, the next after party, the next after after party. It was exhausting, if he was being honest. Of course he appreciated the opportunity to celebrate with his friends and meet new people, but sometimes he was just tired. He was tired of being Harry Styles, the pop star who parties constantly. Sometimes he just wanted to come home and decompress, talk to his girlfriend about his day, and ask about hers. He was tired of being on all the time.

Which is why he loved his relationship with you so much. With you, everything seemed easy. Since you were decidedly an introvert, the majority of your evenings with him were spent watching movies in either one of your living rooms. On the nights you did go out (usually suggested by Harry, because you would honestly be fine to stay in every night) you didn't go to extravagant gatherings or five star restaurants. You preferred to explore smaller local shops and cafes, or old book stores, or antique stores, or walk around in a park, or go for a picnic. Places where you and Harry could just be together, without the pressure of others around you.

Harry was happier than he'd ever been. He didn't realize exactly how tiring it was to go out every night until he stopped doing it.

At first though, you were a little concerned about his sudden change of habits. You worried he would begin to resent you for keeping him in every night, since you really weren't interested in going out. After you had been dating for about 2 months, you decided to ask him about it.

"Harry, if you want to go out and... get drinks with your friends, or just meet up with them, you can," you said encouragingly. "I don't want you to feel like you can't do anything just because I don't like going out, I promise I'm not going to be upset if you want to do stuff like that." You were a little shy speaking about this, because it had been an issue before. It's really hard to sustain a relationship when one half wants to go out and have fun every night, and the other just wants to stay in and watch Netflix.

His eyes widened a little and he shook his head. "That's not- I mean if you're sick of having me here..." his voice took on a teasing tone.

"Yeah, because the way I cuddle you constantly really makes it seem like I want you to leave," you rolled your eyes. "But I'm serious, I don't want you to feel like I'm keeping you from doing stuff."

"You don't," he said quickly. "I feel like in other relationships I’ve had, I had to be on all the time. I was ready to go out whenever, we would shut down every party, we were just running around constantly, and I... was so over it," he dropped his head against your shoulder, laughing. "I would so much rather stay in. I mean, I still like going out sometimes, but I really don't have any desire to be like that anymore. I felt like shit all the time because I was always hungover and sleep deprived. Also... I kind of felt like the only reason people wanted to be with me wasn't because they liked me, they just liked the idea of me. They liked the friends and connections I had, they liked the parties I could take them to. I felt... kind of used, I guess. I never felt like I could just be myself, because that's not why they wanted to be with me."

You frowned, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that. I don't want you to feel like that anymore, okay? I want you to feel safe enough with me that you can just be yourself. And I really hope you know the reason I want to be with you. I want to be with you for you, not parties or connections or anything else."

You heard a quiet sniffle, and although his head was in your neck, you could tell he was crying.

"Baby, don't cry," you cooed soothingly, continuing to play with the little hairs at the back of his neck.

"I just... I love you," he said quietly. "And I know it's soon, but I do. I've never been more sure of anything. You don't have to say it back-"

"I love you too," you cut him off quietly. "Very, very much."

-----

Harry smiled as he thought back on that conversation. "Yeah. Definitely a positive change in my mood.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Zane said. "The right person can really change everything."

"They can," Harry agreed. "And that shows, in my music as well as my personal life. When I was writing Fine Line, I was having some of the lowest points of my life. Some of the highest too, but that just goes to show that I had no stability. I was just constantly up and down, thrown from super high highs to very low lows. I just felt... bad, a lot. But now I'm in a much better place, I think, and I think you can really hear that on this new record."

"Well, I'm very excited to hear it!" Zane smiled. "I think we all are."

"Thank you," Harry blushed. "There's a few songs on there that I'm very excited to share. Some very personal ones, so that's a little nerve wracking, but overall," he laughed lightly. "Overall I think they're some of my favorites that I've ever written."

"And are these songs about a certain person?"

"They are," Harry smiled. "She's the reason I'm in this better place. She's the reason I've been able to process so many of my emotions and put them into songs like this, so really she's the one you'll have to thank when the album comes out."

"She sounds wonderful," Zane smiled, looking out over the waves crashing on the shore.

"She is," Harry nodded, following the other man's gaze. "She's really... she's everything."

-----

"Harry, that was amazing," you grinned, launching yourself into his arms. The interview had concluded about an hour ago, and Harry just arrived home with takeout from the Chinese place you both loved.

"Thank you," he smiled, setting the bags down before he hugged you back. "Missed you, though."

"Missed you too." You leaned up to kiss him, but pulled away before it could go too far. "But I'm hungry. Let's eat?"

"Sure," he laughed, picking up the bags to bring them to the table. "Uh- I'm sorry if I said anything too personal, I didn't mean to take it so far. I was just thinking about how much I love you-"

"It's okay," you cut in. "I loved it, I promise it's okay."

"That's good," he leaned over to kiss your cheek. "I honestly had to hold myself back a lot, once i start talking about you it's hard to stop."

Your cheeks burned from the compliments, and you moved to return the tender gesture. "You're so sweet," you smiled. "But I'm, like, starving, so can we talk about this later?"

"Sure we can," Harry laughed. "Anything for you. You're everything."

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dress

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, smut, age gap, angst, blackmailing 

a/n: the reader is at least 10 years younger than lee. if that upsets you, please don’t read this work. additionally, i based reader’s 60′s style mostly out of  that oufit margot robbie wore for once upon a time in hollywood and megan from mad men, you can see my inspiration outfits here [x] [x] hope you enjoy it xx

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk. Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you ...

The rain fell harshly and unkindly on the pavement for the fifth day in a row, the sun having forsaken the forgotten hellish town that was Knockemstiff, Ohio. Few could say the name and ever fewer dared to enter the town. Even God’s afraid of it, his mother would tell him after nursing what felt like another one of her endless bottles of liquor. It was a haunted town, not a lot left and those who did never crossed paths with it again. Murder and crime were all time highs but not even the government dared to come in and try to to anything which meant any police force in the town were like gods, deciding who lived and who didn’t. One of those god-like men was Lee Bodecker, however he preferred you called him Sheriff Lee Bodecker.  He was a chubby man in his early thirties, tall but the beer belly made him hunch making him look shorter than he was. He had once been the envy of the town, one of the most handsome men of the town but years of living in Knockemstiff wear down everyone. His own poison had been alcohol which had ended up with him in therapy with his wife and with a therapist who had told him to curb the craving of alcohol with sweets instead. It had little to nothing as he still drank like his life depended on it and tonight was no different from other nights. He took off his hat as he entered the local bar in town, the only bar in town, and everyone looked his way, silence installing the ever noisy bar. He liked it, Lee liked it. He knew he was not the handsome one, in fact his look made him quite funny so he made himself scary. Lee made sure that everyone who looked his way, heard his voice or saw his shadow was afraid of him. It definitely worked as once he sat on the bar stool, there was already a glass with 5 fingers of his favourite drink. 

Everything was silence except for the mumbling of men discussing their days until suddenly the mumbling was no longer about the hell that was living in Knockemstiff. He turned around in his chair and understood why the men were suddenly so interested. There she was, dressed in a high neck black shirt which stood over a white skirt. Matching go go boots left her legs bare, something women in Knockemstiff did not do, still stuck in decades of last. She wasn’t from around and everyone knew it merely by the way she dressed but Sheriff Bodecker knew different. Men watched like dogs as she made her way to the bar, to his side. 

     - Y/N. - he greeted her. - What are you doing here? Trying to disrupt the town?

     - My grandmother died.

     - I heard. My condolences.

     - She left me all of what was hers including the house so I’m here to sell it. 

     - The one in Brewer Heights? - she nodded. - Tis a nice house, but I don’t think anyone here would have enough to buy it.

     - I’ll decide that. - she held the glass the bartender in between her hands, her eyes roaming over to his hands were his wedding ring had started to become tight around his finger. - Still with Jane?

     - Why wouldn’t I be? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. - What are you doing here, Y/N?

    - I told you, I’m here to sell ...

    - No. - he interrupted. - Why are you here, at the bar? What do you want?

    - Nothing ...  I see you’re not in the mood to help me anyways. - she got up from the stool she had sat on, straightening her skirt as her feet hit the floor. - Good evening, Sheriff Bodecker. 

He was sat, watching her leave but also giving an aura to the men who too watched the modern girl exit the building not to get any ideas. Lee knew these men, they were like dogs and once a suitable amount of time passed, he took to returning to his cruiser and follow her. How could he trust this town with her, an outsider? Y/N had been brought up in Knockemstiff, the daughter of store owners who had both been killed in an assault gone wrong. After that, she was ushered to live with her grandmother, the last of socialites in Knockemstiff. Rumours said her grandmother had moved from New York to wed with a penniless man already expecting once she wore her wedding gown. Rumours or not, she still held much more money than anyone in the town together and she wasted not a cent in her granddaughter’s education, moving to a more upscale house in Brewer Heights once she got her under her care. She was always the one with everything and Lee remembered seeing her while still an officer driving around a brand new glossy red car, hair loose through the wind. In all honesty, he thought her never too leave town but as she reached her tender 21st year of life, she left leaving everything behind. 

He parked outside her grandmother’s home, stopping just a bit away from it looking at the house that was so eerily sketched in his mind. He leaned against his seat watching Brewer Heights, the place he so wanted to have lived in his youth. Of course he now owned a place there too but it was faint, fickle. If he were to not be sheriff anymore all would shatter. He would do everything he could to keep his position. He deserved it, he deserved it more than any damned soul on this planet. A knock on the glass removed him from his mind state as he looked the way of his window to see her. 

     - Can I come in? - she asked, eyes lingering on the passenger seat. He stretched over to the side, opening the door for her but not exiting the car. She entered, closing the door as she sat on the seat. - I’ve always hated when you were mad at me. 

     - I’m not mad.

     - You have no reason to be. I know what you’re mad about and it’s your own fault, you know that.

     - Is it my fault you left? - his hands tightened against the wheel of his cruiser, anger coursing through his veins. Lee never liked to hear the truth.

    - She knew, Lee and she was right ... If anyone knew, if the town knew I would’ve been ruined and I didn’t deserve that. You must understand I didn’t deserve that. 

    - I didn’t deserve you leaving without saying a fucking thing now did I, darl’?

    - You were married. - she almost spat the words in his face. - You are married, Lee. Now you can be mad at me all you want, you can hate me for all I give a damn but I was not gonna destroy myself for your happiness, and I will certainly not allow you to destroy yourself for lust. 

    - Y/N ...

    - I don’t need your help anymore and I would enjoy it if you parked your cruiser away from my house. I wouldn’t want any rumours about your infidelities to resurface. - she exited the car and climbed the small incline of grass up to her home. Lee still remembered seeing her in a little white dresses her grandmother would buy for her, climbing that incline while holding the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Lee had met Y/N when she volunteered at the station back when he was still a patrol officer. She did the duties of every single secretary plus cleaning which was what she had volunteered for. It’ll be good for my university application, she told him when Lee asked what she was doing there. She started at 17 and remained there until she was 18 and ready to leave and become something other than a Knockemstiff resident. However, her mother having sudden heart attack ruined her plans and she decided to stay to take care of her. Lee didn’t see her for two whole years until she was 20 years old and he spotted her at the supermarket getting an earful from Mr. Collins about dropping a bottle of olive oil while trying to reach something from the higher shelf. Lee didn’t like it, he didn’t like Mr. Collins berating her for a simple mistake so he stepped in. He remembered her thanking him before reintroducing herself to him. 

He wasn’t one to be swayed by women, he’d married his Jane when he was fresh out of high school and while his relationship was more than stale, he had his mind on work and alcohol. Sure he could’ve divorced, found someone else but he wasn’t the teenager he used to be anymore, he was hardly someone who women would be attracted to besides a single man for a Sheriff? That surely wasn’t gonna happen. Yet, he couldn’t help but be entranced by her, fresh into adulthood with a mind full of ideas about what she wanted to do. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to start a relationship with her, to start an affair yet he couldn’t say he regret it. He didn’t regret the nights where she’d meet him in the woods, covered by a black trench coat. He could still feel his, his hands against her back, feeling the fabric of her undergarments as the windows fogged. 

Y/N was upset. Her friends had told her she better not expect the man who she had left without any notice to help her but she was upset. What choice did she have? After her grandmother heard about it, it would’ve taken no time for everyone in town to hear about it and she would’ve been a disgrace and Lee would’ve certain not become Sheriff. Nevertheless she was upset. Instead, she asked an old friend from school, Billy. It was no surprise he was here, nobody left, nobody ever left. She had left but yet here she was once again, 4 years later wondering about an affair which shouldn’t have happened. Her grandmother had berated her for ages “you don’t sleep with a married man” and of course she knew she shouldn’t yet she had. She didn’t know better. 

She had boxes and boxes packed with whatever it was left of the house, photo books, clothing, bedding, all of it packed. Once she got to New York she could sort through it but right now all she wanted to was leave. Her friends even offered to come over and do it for her but the damned lawyer said it had to be her. In the morning she waited for Billy in the steps of her home, dressed in one of her old 50′s fashioned white dress, a far cry from the mini skirts she used at home and off he came in the exact same car he had when they were both teens. 

   - Y/N, look at you. - he walked off the car. - You look gorgeous, darl’. 

   - Thank you, Billy. - she scratched the back of her head. - Uhm it’s only 5 big boxes. I’ll pay for the gas if you help me take them to post office. 

   - You’re not keeping the house?

   - And live in Knockemstiff? - she rolled her eyes, climbing up the stairs to grab the boxes from the front of the door. The boy helped her pack the car before the two hopped onto the car. - So, how’s the town been?

   - Nothing changes. Mr. Collins died, no one was upset about it and that Bodecker guy became Sheriff. - he light up a cigarette as he turned on the engine. - It’s still as boring as its been and people mostly gossip around the same old gossip.

   - What’s new in gossip?

   - Eleanor still says you and Bodecker were fucking. - he chuckled. - As if ... I mean, look at you, you were prom queen and he’s a fat bastard. 

    - You should watch your mouth, Billy. He’s the sheriff. 

    - Because he bought it. - he shrugged. - Dad says he’s pretty much doing everyone’s dirty work. I mean his sister and her husband disappeared and were found dead. 

    -  I don’t really care for that type of gossip. - she leaned against the seat, watching the trees pass by. It wasn’t that she and Billy were good friends but she needed help and she’d rather die than go beg Lee to help her out. She had tried and it’d failed. Besides what was the worse that could happen?

The worse that could happen became very clear as instead of driving into town he took a left into the woods. She rose her head from the seat as all the ways one could reach town rushed through her mind. This definitely wasn’t one of them, it was hard to even get to the town through the woods. She knew that because, well ... it was where she would meet Lee to ensure no one from town found them. The car came to a stop and Billy got off the car. Maybe he just needed to pee or to get some air. She waited til he was on his back to open the car door and start running but he rushed after her, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the ground before standing over her, hands holding her wrists above her head.

   - Billy, what are you doing? - stay calm, that was what they always taught her, stay calm. 

   - Come on, Y/N. They always wanted us to be together in high school, remember? 

   - I don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy, calm down. 

   - You fucking calm down. I know you want me too, Y/N. You called me, you need my help, darl’. I can make you feel so damn good ... - his mouth lowered down and she started to trash around, trying to get rid of him. 

   - Stop, please stop. - she looked up at the sky, the morning sun barely up as she recalled why you don’t come back to Knockemstiff. You don’t get back because you get stuck. As she convinced herself there was nothing the do, a short was heard through the air. 

  - What the heck are you doing William? - she recognised the voice. She had never been more grateful for that voice. Billy jumped over to his feet.

   - Sheriff ... me and Y/N were just having a bit of fun ... You know, you understand, right?

   - Y/N ... - he looked her way. - What were you doing?

   - It was against my will, Sheriff. - she climbed onto her feet, leaning against a tree at a healthy distance from him.

  - Get the fuck out of here. - the young boy in his mid 20′s rushed out like a child afraid of the dark, forgetting his car and everything he had left behind. Y/N watched him running, tripping onto his legs as Lee fired a warning shot in the air. If this was NY, there would be someone here already but this was Knockemstiff and gun shots were as usual as rain during winter.

He smirked, happy to have once again imposed the authority he so much treasured. Lee never liked Billy, he never liked when he’d drive Y/N home from school even when she was volunteering at the police station. That boy was no good news and always looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Lee still remembered the old Sheriff telling her that boy was no good and looking at her now, dressed in one of her white dresses stained in dirty and green grass stains, he guessed he was right. 

  - Billy, Y/N? Don’t you have other friends?

  - Billy’s the only one with a car. - Y/N mumbled as she grabbed his keys from the floor to take her stuff off his car before he could return. - Thank you but I had it under control.

  - ‘Course you did. - he put his hands on his waist. - Come on, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.

  - I don’t want any favours from you, Sheriff Bodecker. - she held her boxes against her chest. Well, if she started now maybe she could be at the post office with all the boxes at nighttime. - That’ll be all.

  - Y/N, come on. I’m a public server so let me help you.

  - I don’t want your help. - she almost barked at him, taking another box from Billy’s car. Maybe she could drive the car, yet again she knew the captain particularly liked Billy and could fine her if 

  - Fine, can you tell me what you’re doing at least?

  - I’m shipping these boxes to New York. I don’t have time to completely go through them so ...

  - Put them in the cruiser. I’ll take them to the post office and take you home. 

  - I don’t want any favours.

  - It’s not for you, it’s for your grandmother. Now get into the car, please. - he opened the door to her.

Y/N huffed. The last thing she needed was a favour from Lee Bodecker yet in all honesty she had no other choice. She packed her boxes into the truck of his cruiser and sat on the passenger seat, arms crossed as he sat in the driver’s seat. Her mind played tricks on her, reminding her of what they used to do in that driver’s seat of his back when she was younger and full of ideas for the future. She shouldn’t have done it and she knew it, Jane Bodecker wasn’t the best woman but she didn’t deserve having her husband sneaking around with a 20 year old despite her herself having had her fair share of affairs. Not that Lee knew and she wasn’t gonna be the one to tell him about the time she was working late in the station and saw his wife getting busy with a new patrol. She didn’t have that right, after all he was doing the same to her. She shouldn’t have done it, nevertheless. Her grandmother died ashamed of her and now she had to deal with it. 

   - Billy said Sandy died. Is it true? 

   - Yeah, last year.

   - Oh ... I’m sorry, I didn��t know. 

   - She had it coming. That weird husband of hers ended up driving her off the edge. That Arvin kid shot them yet I can’t say they hadn’t it coming ... She was still my baby sister. 

   - I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry ...  - she looked down at her skirt. 

   - Almost got me too ... stupid kid. - he shrugged. - Good thing I was fat enough to stop the bullet, I guess.

   - Well, I’m sorry about Sandy. - she said as she saw her house become clearer through the window. He stopped in front of her home, unlocking the doors so she could walk out. 

Y/N walked out before she could do something stupid. Whatever she did, whatever he had, whenever they were together she always ended up doing something stupid. She sat in the empty house of her childhood, only now containing furniture. She could remember it so well from her years as a child running up and down the stairs, not knowing what awaited her outside the world. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to owe anything to Lee. She knew who he had to answer softly too, she knew those men Billy spoke about. They always ran for Sheriff ever since she was a kid. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, 3PM. She knew exactly where those men would be at that time and so she changed and took her way downtown. Everyone turned their head as she walked into the badly light, old bar in tones of musky green which greatly contrasted with her baby blue short dress. The town had gotten stuck in the 40′s and 50′s, women barely showing their legs or any skin and there she was, a woman born and raised in Knockemstiff dressed like a movie star. The table of three men clearly noticed, the under-sheriff, the division chief and the captain. She stood in front of the round table, taking her sunglasses and setting them on top of her head, a nice, covergirl smile on her pink painted lips. You can get the girl out of Knockemstiff but you can’t get Knockemstiff out of the girl.

    - Hello boys. You mind if I seat with you? - she put her hand on one of the chairs. 

    - Hey, you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter aren’t you? - Frank, the under-sheriff asked, pulling the chair for her. - I thought you were in New York.

    - I was but I just came here because of my grandma’s inheritance, but I have something to discuss. 

Another night, another day of useless parading around for Lee. He’d pass by the post office and shipped Y/N’s boxes and that had been the highlight of his day. As per usual, he made his way to the bar only to found the environment was slightly different. He knew this town like the back of his hand, anything off always rang alarm bells. As the bartender placed his usual poison in front of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the situation. 

   - Why’s everything so quiet?

   - I don’t know, Sheriff. - the man replied while cleaning glasses. - Elizabeth’s girl was here and I don’t know what she did but Frank, Jonah and Fitzwilliam left as if she were the devil.

Fucking hell. He drowned the last of his drink before grabbing his hat and entering his cruise. Damned Y/N, she used to be such a nice girl before leaving to New York. God, the only complaint he ever got about her was when the mayor complained about her wanting to run a march. He drove to her home like a mad man. What was she doing messing around with those three? He’d seen them do worse things for much less. Lee climbed the grass patch up to her door, knocking on it as if his life depended on it. 

   - Y/N, open up. Right now. - he thumped the door again. - I’ll break in if you don’t answer it!

   - Jesus. - the door opened up to Y/N dressed in what he was almost entirely sure was the shortest dress he had ever seen a woman wear. She stood against the door, hand on the wood while the other on her waist as he entered her home. 

   - Took you long enough. - he stepped into the home which he had never dared to step in.

   - I was upstairs. - she closed the door, locking it behind her for good safety. No one can be trusted in this godforsaken town. - What do you want?

Lee walked further into the house ignoring her question as he shut all the windows of the ground floor, anything that could allow anyone to look inside the house. Last thing he needed was for anyone to see inside the home and start any rumours. Stupid bastards. Y/N followed him around asking the same damn question anytime he shut any window and pulled any drapes down. 

   - Stop touching my stuff. - she put herself in front of him. - What do you want, Lee?

   - What do I want? - he sat against the couch, sighing. - What the fuck did you do, Y/N? Why were you at the bar?

   - I didn’t do anything. - she batted her eyes innocently. 

   - Y/N, I have another election coming up soon. I’ll ask again, what did you do at the bar?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - Y/N, I’ve seen those men kill for less so you tell me now what you did. 

   - Stop ordering me around. - she rolled her eyes at him. - I don’t like owing anyone so now we’re even.

   - We’re even? - he pitched the skin of his nose. - What the fuck, Y/N? 

   - You wanna know what I said? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you rule this damn town, Lee? - she looked down on him, almost teasing him. Had it been a few years ago she would’ve been under him already. - I helped you out.

   - Y/N ...

   - It’s not just you who was sleeping around with a younger girl. They were sleeping around with friends of mine. The only difference is I have evidence of it ... - she grabbed her purse from the hanger, taking a beige envelope from it and throwing it his way. Lee looked up to her and then to the envelope opening it to see various pictures of girls he knew in compromising positions with his opponents, letters, everything. - They don’t have anything on you because unlike my friends, I don’t keep souvenirs from my affairs. 

  - You blackmailed them? Are you stupid, Y/N? They are going to kill you.

  - Please. - she rolled her eyes at him. - My grandmother owned half this town, if I die everything goes to charity and this town falls apart. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning to stick around for longer. 

  - So what now? You had fun playing femme fatale? You’re bored, is that it?

  - I just won you an election without any competition, Lee. You could be nicer about it. 

  - I don’t need your help. 

  - I don’t need your help either. I was just repaying a favour. - she leaned against the wall. - You can go now. 

   - Did you need to wear that? - he pointed at the dress. - Couldn’t have struck blackmail dressed appropriately?

   - Do you not like my dress? - she looked down, hands grabbing the baby blue fabric as she expanded the flowey skirt. - You know, I bought it for you. I was planning on using it for birthday a few years ago but you know ... had to leave earlier.

   - You bought that dress for me? - he rose from the couch, walking up to her until he had her caged against the wall.

   - I bought it so you could take it off, actually. - Lee must’ve been hallucinating because he swore she was pouting.

She looked up at him with that look she used to give him after a long day at work when he needed something to unwind. Both of them had promised each other not to do anything else when she left, Y/N had told herself no more coming bak and Lee had decided to spend his life content what whatever shred of marriage he had. Yet, she was there in what looked more like lingerie than a dress and he was in uniform, both of them were never good at making good decisions, and this was Knockemstiff. Lee took the first move, leaning down to kiss her like his body dependent on it which in some way he did. She held onto his shoulder, flushing her body against his as his hands started trying to pull the dress away from her body. Baby blue fabric flowed to the ground as he picked her up, throwing her against the couch he had just been sat on. He stopped kissing her to look at her, to look at the body he still dreamed at night or whenever he shut his eyes. She could’ve been gone for 4 years but she sure never left his wildest fantasies. 

  - Lee, wait. - her hands stopped him from returning to kiss her. - Let me treat you, please.

  - Oh sugar, you don’t need to ask. - she got up, walking slowly past him, her matching baby blue undergarments much more racy than what she used to wear back in Knockemstiff. She pushed him against the couch, smirking as she went down on her knees. - What are you doing down there, sugar? It’s more than you can handle. 

  - Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m a big girl. - her hands unbuckled the belt off his trousers, throwing it to the floor followed by his trousers. She peppered kisses over his thighs down to his knees and then to the edge of his underwear. Slowly, she peeled them away, making eye contact with him. The silent girl he had known before was definitely long gone and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Before he could make up his mind, she took him entirely inside inside her mouth. - Fuck, you look fucking flawless with my big cock in your mouth, sugar.

She smiled at his praise, moving her head up and down still at a painfully slow pace, his balls in her hands. Lee pushed his head back, groaning at her motions and thinking it could no get better until she started to move her head faster, his tip reaching the back of her throat, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Instead she moaned against him, the vibrations making him feel like he was on cloud 9. Fuck being sheriff, nothing made him quite higher than having the one who got away with his cock down her throat. He started twitching against her mouth, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her against his pelvis and starting to control her moves. She kept moaning against him, bringing him over the edge until he just couldn’t hold himself anymore. His grip loosened on her head as his muscles gave up on him.

Y/N got up from her kneeling position, thumb pushing whatever cum had spilled over into her mouth. That image alone made him harden up again like some horny teenage boy. She smiled at him, hands on his shoulders as she sat on his lap. 

   - What do you want me to do, Sheriff? - she batted her eyes at him, leaning down to kiss his ear lobe lowering down to his neck. 

  - You wanna ride my cock, sugar? - he hooked his hand on her nape, pushing her so she was looking at him. - You wanna make up to me for leaving me all alone?

  - Yes, Sheriff. - she lined up and slowly sunk down on him, both of them moaning. 

   - Come on, sugar. Show me what you can do. - she started riding him as if the devil had possessed her. He pushed her lips against his, a sloppy messy kiss which definitely was more lust than anything else as she moved up and down against him.  - Yeah, you like that don’t you, sugar? Tell me you like it, sugar. 

  - It feels so good, Lee. - she leaned against him, her hips still moving as he pulled her bra down, pinching her nipple. - Fuck.

  - You’re never gonna leave me again. - he started thrusting up, moving her from under him so she was laid across the couch. - Promis ... fuck ... promise me, sugar. Promise, you’re not gonna leave.

  - Lee ... - she moaned against the couch’s pillow as he speed up his pace, hands holding her hips and moving them against and away from him. 

  - You’re not gonna leave. - he groaned, feeling the way her walls milked him with such need. - You’re not gonna leave me, sugar. You’re not, right? You’re gonna stay.

   - Lee ... - she cried out before her mouth opened up in a perfect O, her orgasm washing over her. He didn’t take too long to cum, groaning like a wild animal as strings of white painted her walls. He slipped out of her, holding her before turning so she was standing on top of him. - Lee, I can’t stay. You know that, right? 

   - Why not? Things were good when you were around. 

   - I left for a reason, Lee. - she got up from him, grabbing her dress and quickly slipping it on. - And that reason still stands. 

   - Y/N, please listen ...

   - When I was 20 and we started this, I truly believed you were going to divorce your wife. You were going to divorce her and you were gonna marry me and ... and my grandma would’ve been upset but she would’ve learned to deal with it and then she would’ve taken me to the altar. I waited a year to see if I would ever become something other than a mistress and then the elections came around and I understood you were not gonna divorce Jane. You were going to be Sheriff and you’re still going to be Sheriff and maybe sometime Mayor. I’m not gonna be your mistress anymore, Lee.

  - Y/N ...

  - Please, leave. - she wiped whatever tears were threatening to fall off. Lee furrowed his brow, putting on his trousers before trying to approach her but she stopped him, arm raised firmly keeping distance. - Please, leave.

  - Y/N, c’mon. Let’s talk.

  - LEAVE! - she rose her tone at him. Lee wasn’t going to argue with her, it wasn’t his place to argue with her at her own house and so he left. Y/N stayed in the middle of her leaving room, arms crossed until she broke down crying.

She could almost hear her grandmother’s words “there’s no use crying about it” when she told her Lee was running for Sheriff. Funny how even after being dead, the old nag still was as right as she was four years ago. She wiped her tears with her hand and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, sitting on the bare bed. It was going to be alright, tomorrow she’d be able to sign the rights over to the letting agency and could return to New York. Things were fine there, or at least she wasn’t sleeping with a married man there.

The sun didn’t raise up that morning, rain instead replaced it and so Y/N remained laid in bed watching the rain drop rush down the fogged up windows until a loud thumping on her door forced her to get up. She wrapped herself in her robe and went down the stairs to open the door. 

  - Good morning, miss. - she opened the door to her letting agent. - How are you?

  - I’m alright, Don. I’m sorry, I thought the open house was later. I’ll just get my stuff and leave.

  - No, it’s all right miss. I am just here to tell you that we’ve sold the house was above the price you were asking for.

  - Pardon me?

  - At least two times the asking price. It was such a good price, he had to take it. Paid upfront.

  - What really? Who?

  - He should be coming to see the place in an hour. - he said. - We’ll bring you the check later on. 

  - All right. Thank you Don.

That was good news at least she got to leave Knockemstiff before anything else happened. She didn’t know what had overcome her to decide to have sex with Lee. Pull yourself together Y/N, you’ve had four years to learn how to deal with it. It was fine, it was going to be fine. She packed whatever was left of her stuff into her small patched up luggage and put it by the door. She just needed to wait for Don to bring her check back and she could go on back to New York, where her mistakes only included putting coloured clothes with whites and then having pink clothes for the rest of her life. A knock on the door made that decision come much faster. Okay, Y/N. Get the check and go.

  - Lee? - she opened the door to see the least person she wanted to see. - Go away, I’m expecting someone.

  - I know. - he walked in as if the house was his. - You’re expecting me.

  - This is not funny, Lee. Don should be bringing my check anytime and the owner will be here in an hour.

  - Yeah, I’m sorry I’m early.

  - Pardon? - she rose her eyebrows at his statement. - What do you mean?

  - It’s my house now. I was thinking of upgrading, ya know? This house is the best one in Brewer Heights after all.

  - Are you fucking kidding me, Lee?! - she stood in front of him before he could walk further into her home. - You’re bringing your wife into my childhood home? YOU’RE BRINGING YOUR WIFE TO YOUR MISTRESS’S HOME?!

  - How many bedrooms is this house? They said they thought it was over five in the contract. 

  - You have a perfectly good house. Why do you want mine?

  - Mine is too small. Only one bedroom, I’d have no place to build a nursery.

  - A nursery? You and your wife are having a baby? In my childhood home ... how swell. 

  - You know I’m thinking about running for mayor. I mean, it’d look good if I had a family.

  - Good luck convincing Jane. - she gave him a cynical smile. 

  - I don’t have to convince Jane. I’d have to convince you. 

  - Me? Fuck off, Lee. I’m not having a baby for you and your wife. Fuck off. 

  - We’re a good team, Y/N. Besides, Jane is no longer in the picture.

  - Lee ... - she sighed. - Please.

  - You see, my wife isn’t as good as me at keeping her infidelities casual. The other candidates have caught wind of it ... I need someone who’s almost as good at blackmail as me.

  - I’m better at blackmail than you. - she crossed her arms at him.

  - So what do you say, sugar? Want to be the sheriff’s wife?

  - Do you promise I’ll get to be the mayor’s wife someday? 

  - With you on my team, I think you’re gonna be the mayor’s wife sooner than you think.

taglist: @buckysteveloki-me​ 

[hermannsthumb]

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

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

It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

[scorpionyx9621]

While the art is left to be desired (i'm hope i use this ohrase right, my english is awful). I suprised that i found future state!Jason to be more enjoyable than Urban Legend one. Like he's way more capable there and [spoiler alert] also Bruce depend on him and still call him son? So you can have a bad ass Jason and good son jason at the same time.

So I need to apologize because this turned into a rant about Jason's characterization as whole and MAN is it long-winded and I'm sorry.

I have to agree. I really like the characterization Future State/Dark Detective is going for with Jason.

Jason is still the typical Jason we've grown to expect. Cold, cynical, snarky, willing to cross the dark red line and kill if need be, but he's still shown to have emotions. When he's betraying the family it's vocalized by Jason that he's upset about the situation. He doesn't want to, but he must for the mission Bruce put him under.

Truth be told, I'm not fully caught up on Future State/Dark Detective. I've kind of been reading spoilers and just getting the general gist in the periphery from people like you on Tumblr. I've been more focused on Urban Legends, which, while I will say I still don't hate the story, hell we still have two issues left of Cheer, and I by no means think Chip Zdarsky is a bad writer by any means. His characterization of Jason irks me.

*God I was so on the fence about Eddy Barrow's take on Jason until Issue #3. That right there? THAT. That's a handsome ass man Maurry*

ANYWAYS: I'm irked by Zdarsky's take on Jason just because of how hot headed and brash Jason is. Now don't get me wrong, every main writer for Jason has taken a bit of a different spin and while the big characters who have written Jason (Judd Winnick, Scott Lobdell, Tony Daniel) and while Zdarsky seems to be what I'm hoping to be a bit of a medication of Jason & Bruce's relationship. He's doing it at the expendature of Jason's characterization of being a damn near criminal mastermind.

If we focus on Winnick and Daniel's interpretation of Jason (Winnick wrote the original Under the Hood & Lost Days. Daniels wrote Battle for the Cowl) as well as all Pre-New 52 versions of Jason. Jason is a monster. Like genuinely a horrible human being. He still fights for right moral side (he kills mostly child abusers/drug traffickers and the likes) but this Jason is genuinely unhinged and while smart, he's absolutely monster. Hell, in Battle for the Cowl after hearing Bruce's final words, he has a villainous breakdown. Dresses as batman, and starts killing people. Judd Winnick himself said he sees Jason as a 'Psychopath' and there are a lot of very vocal people who say Winnick's original interpretation of Jason as a violent, misanthropic villain is the superior version and that Jason should return to this.

*I love to point out that I made a post on my alt account questioning Jason's age in this issue. Turns out he's Like SEVENTEEN. I get why they draw him older and more mature because of his darker/more villainous tendencies. But there's something kind of True Crime Podcast host fascination I have with this greasy, crusty, 17 year old who just casually kills 30 mobsters in horrific gun violence and calls it a day.*

Then we have the New 52. And in comes Red Hood & The Outlaws + the eventual Red Hood: Outlaw series. Piloted by the one Scott Lobdell. Now I know a lot of people dislike Lobdell for his takes on certain characters, his all-over-the-place writing style. (Let's not forget his allegations of SA and the fact that he openly admits that he wrote Jason as a self-insert for a 'bad guy seeking redemption') this was my first comic experience with Jason and to be honest, I can't bring myself to hate it. Sure there's some parts that literally show how much of a dumpster fire Lobdell's writing can become, but for the most part I genuinely liked the characterization of Jason that Lobdell gives. Jason may be a bit more reactionary and just kind of making shit up as he goes along, but he's far from dumb. The intro to the series has Jason sneaking into a terrorist run nuclear sub and killing everyone inside.

Again: Lobdell's writing is all of the place. But I do like that his take on Jason is a bit more subdued. I know in the New 52 they wanted to make Jason an Anti-Hero. Someone who very much still driven by emotion and revenge. But he's definetly more relaxed and even has a lot of fun. Intelligence wise he has is moments, but it does emphasize that while he may be the best read Robin, he does have a tendency to leap before he looks. Also all the art for RHATO with the exception of a few series were TOP TIER. I understand why they hired artists like Kenneth Rocafort and Dexter Soy to rehabilitate his image. I mean, come on.

Now if we're talking about Jason's intelligence, I'd be absolutely remiss if I didn't discuss Red Hood: Outlaw and the Price of Gotham Arc. Specifically this exchange between Bruce & Jason. To me, this is the single best part of Lobdell's run and shows Jason's true intelligence.

To give a rundown: After Bruce banished Jason from Gotham after seemingly killing the Penguin. Bruce proceeded to find Jason and literally beat him to within an inch of his life. It took MONTHS for Jason to recover. A lot happens but mostly Jason finds out (from Bruce no less) that Penguin is still alive. Jason hatches a devious plan. He takes over the iceberg lounge, kidnaps and holds Penguin hostage. Publically outs himself as Jason Todd, the dead ward of Bruce Wayne, as alive and well, and the new owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

When Bruce finds out he's clearly pissed and goes to confront Jason because he's banished him from Gotham. But because Jason outed himself as alive and one of Bruce's sons. Batman can do NOTHING. Jason has Bruce by the balls. If Bruce does anything to Jason while he's out and alive as Jason, all Jason has to do is tell the truth. And the whole Batman jig is up in an instant. And Bruce? After these panels? He runs off with his tail between his leg because he can't touch Jason. And all Jason did was capture penguin, and come out as alive. THIS is the Jason that I love. This is the Jason that strikes fear into people's hearts.

I think a lot of the general complaints we see about Jason as a whole is just how inconsistent he is with his writing. Which I agree. It's hard to characterize Jason well when there's been a character like Lobdell who was at the Helm of Jason's character for 10 years and then forced to leave. And I don't really know if DC has any really solid plans for his character and development. There's a lot of hype surrounding the end of Cheer and them saying it'll 'change Red Hood & Batman's relationship forever' as well as with Jason being featured in the new Suicide Squad coming this August, and Jason getting a feature in an issue of Robin. It'll be interesting to see where they take the character. Personally I do want a resumption of Jason. But like Harley Quinn where they're taking their sweet time redeeming her. Jason has done A LOT of awful things and of they wanna make him a hero, I want a few years to pass in terms of monthly issues before we see Jason become a hero again.

*edit: spelling*

[thankskenpenders]

So there’s been a lot of buzz about the big leak about Sega’s upcoming plans for Sonic. The source is allegedly credible, but even credible leakers can get stuff wrong, so as always take all this with a HUGE grain of salt. (Some of this is also just stuff that isn’t that hard to guess based on the trajectory of the series recently.) I’ve been asked about it, so here are my thoughts

The big thing here that people seem to be talking about (aside from details on games that may or may not be in development) is that Sega wants to shift focus entirely towards Modern Sonic. (Although, remember, we’re literally getting some Classic Sonic stuff from IDW this year. We’re talking about the games here.) Now, I love me some Classic Sonic content. Mania is easily in my top 3 Sonic games, maybe even my absolute favorite, and it saddens me that the team has gone their separate ways instead of being kept on by Sega to make a sequel. Sonic Mania Adventures, Sonic Mega Drive? Phenomenal stuff. BUT... well, if they play their cards right, I think this is a smart move

Tyson Hesse also recently expressed his opinion that the hard divide between Classic and Modern Sonic is hurting the franchise, and I kind of agree. Everybody loves Mania (again, myself included--I bought it twice), but Mania didn’t do much to solve the core problem of Sonic’s reputation. If anything, it being the best reviewed Sonic game in years (and being followed up by the mediocre Forces) just kind of proved all the naysayers right. The best Sonic game in years was the one that ignored everything made after 1997, and the 3D game that followed it Just Didn’t Get It. (To be blatantly clear, I am not accusing the Mania devs of trying to tank peoples’ opinions of the rest of the franchise or anything absurd like that.)

Continuing to divide the attention of the games between two Sonics risks exacerbating this. People will be validated in viewing the Classic stuff as “the REAL Sonic” while the Modern stuff is just seen as that weird thing Sonic morphed into, when in reality the Modern stuff has been the heart of the franchise for the vast majority of its life at this point. There didn’t even used to be a harsh divide between Classic Sonic and Modern Sonic as separate entities! The divide between the two is way less clear cut than many will tell you, especially if you look back at stuff like Adventure, Advance, and Heroes that were still clearly drawing heavily on the Classic material. Back then, Sonic was just Sonic--he just happened to get a slightly different coat of paint in 1998. You could have SA2′s Sonic running around in Green Hill or Sonic Advance’s Sonic fighting the Eggmobile with the wrecking ball. It was no big deal

Classic Sonic is also, by its definition, a time capsule. It has to be how people remember Sega’s Sonic being in the early ‘90s. They can’t experiment too much with it or add too many new elements or you’ll upset people. Add another ally to the cast and you’ll rile up the “Sonic has too many friends” crowd. Change the gameplay and people will say it’s worse. Give Classic Sonic a voice and people will just say he should be mute. There’s room to do great stuff within the boundaries defined by the old school media, as we’ve seen, but you can only take that so far

(And hell, even if Sega’s going for nostalgia bait, take a quick look at the fandom and you’ll see a HUGE amount of nostalgia for the Adventure and Advance games. I, myself, am a 27-year-old who grew up playing those games religiously, and I know a lot of y’all reading this are in the same boat)

I mean, look at something like Mario. Nintendo hasn’t buried the classic Mario games at all--but at the same time, you also don’t see them splitting Red Overalls Mario off into a different entity to please old school purists. Mario is just Mario, and people like Mario, because Mario platformers are consistently good regardless of style. Like Tyson said in that forum thread: “The goal should be to just make Modern stuff good enough that people don't need to reminisce anymore.” Hopefully, this is what Sega’s trying to do. Not dividing the series in two so they can please old school fans while having no idea what to do with the mainline games, but rather just trying to make the new 3D entries something they can really be proud of as their flagship titles

So, TL;DR: I wish we were getting Sonic Mania 2, but if this is all true and Sonic Team wants to try harder to put out good content with the modern cast in both 2D and 3D then I am 1000% down for that. There is so very much to love in the world of Modern Sonic, as anyone reading the IDW comics knows, and I want the games to reflect that potential more consistently

(Also if this is accurate then I’m happy to hear that they’re moving away from the boost formula. I’ve had a lot of fun with the boost formula games, but Forces made it blatantly clear that they didn’t know what else to do with it)

[meyeselph]

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

--

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

--

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

--

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

--

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

--

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

[officialwittek]

pt. 3

*gif is not mine* 

word count: 2,454

8:00 am.

The ringing of my alarm clock wakes me from my sleep. I grab my phone and scroll through the notifications. I look at the time and decide to get my nails done today, I call all my girl friends and ask if they want me to set an appointment for them to. Carly, Corinna and Erin agree, Natalie and Mariah were busy at the moment. I text them to meet at the apartment and call the nail salon. Thankfully they were open for 2 manicures, 2 full sets, and 4 pedicures.

I hop in the shower and rinse off before starting to do some simple makeup. Instead of my usual falsies I just curl my lashes and put some mascara on. I get dressed in a light blue tank top, a white cropped cardigan, and black yoga flared yoga pants with my white Air Forces. I went to the front door and unlocked it so Corinna and Erin could walk right in. I made some coffee and some tea for myself. After about 15 minutes Corinna and Erin showed up. Carly finished getting ready and we hopped into my car. Carly and Erin started vlogging while I quietly sang along to the music.

We finally got there and checked in. I showed the nail technician the photo, I got a medium length coffin shape with a glitter ombre. After about 2 hours our nails were finally done and we headed to get lunch with Nat, Zane, Todd, and Jeff. We grabbed a table at Olive Garden. Jeff “coincidentally” chooses the seat next to me. Jeff and I had always been touchy with each other, so it was no surprise when he instinctively puts his arm around my shoulder. I still felt bad about the other night, but I was fed up and drunk.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I understand that it was sort of a dick move to kiss you while I was drunk” I whisper, he looks at me in surprise and smiles

“I got my girl back” He exclaims, hugging me tightly as I laugh

We eat our lunch in relative peace, a few loud moments here and there. After lunch with everyone we decide to head to David’s house. Jeff, Carly, Corinna and Erin came in my car. We drove to David’s house blasting music with the windows rolled down. Our 20 minute journey ended and I parked my car. Corinna, Carly, and Erin exited to give Jeff and I some time to talk.

“Listen I’m sorry about snapping at you last night. I was drunk and upset. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole. But please talk to me as soon as I put you in a situation that makes you uncomfortable. I just hate being ignored, especially by you. Do you forgive me?” I ask, holding my hands out and he quickly hugged me

“You’re right. I should’ve talked to you. It was unfair of me to leave you hanging” Jeff replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head

“Now, I got my dick grabbers done. Let’s test it” I joke, his loud laughs ring through my car as I unbuckle my seatbelt

The two of us enter the house and Jeff quickly runs to David to tell him what I said. I knew from the wide smile slowly making it’s way across David’s face. He grabs his camera and quickly runs to me.

“Sage why are you so horny all the time? And please tell me you don’t actually call your nails dick grabbers.” He says, I shove my hand in the camera and laugh loudly

“I’m only horny for Jeff get it right bitch” I reply sassily, David laughs loudly and walks away to film some other bets

“Maybe I should make my own channel” I joke, Corinna quickly whips around and screams

“YES PLEASE!! YOU CAN UPLOAD COVERS AND EVERYTHING. I WANNA BE YOUR FIRST SUBSCRIBER” she yells, catching everyone’s attention

“I’ll literally buy you a camera right now” David says, my eyes go wide and I quickly nod

We all pile into our cars and run to Best Buy. David and all our friends walk me through everything. I grab a Canon EOS M50 camera and a tripod for now. I had music equipment at the apartment. David pays for my things as my friends endlessly talk about what kind of videos I should make. Ranging from get ready with me, vlogs when I go to the studio, covers, styling videos, and the occasional challenge. I choose to start with one cover, one get ready with me, and one vlog a week. All our friends offered to teach me everything having to do with running a successful YouTube challenge. We clear the podcast room and have a makeshift recording session. I quickly scroll through my phone and find a song. ‘Gut Feeling’ by Ella Mai ft. H.E.R

‘Something in the walls

Something in your walk looks different

Something deep inside

Got me wondering why I don't understand

Why I can't put my finger on what the fuck is up

What's missing?

You're distant, and I'm spinning...’

“I’m literally speechless because I forget you can sing” Todd comments, my friends clapping

“Private gig! Private gig!” Zane chants, I roll my eyes playfully and put my playlist of my favorite songs on shuffle

After singing for my friends for about 15 minutes we decide it’s time to get ready to go out. David thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone today, throw a party for me to celebrate me signing with a label and getting content out of our dumbasses. The girls and I squeeze into my car and head to my apartment to get ready.

“Oh my god Corinna I’m so fucking you tonight” I say, watching her try on one of my dresses

“Good, I’ve been alone for too long” she replies, I wink at her and pick out an outfit for Natalie while Carly and Erin raid Carly’s closet

“Nat this is so perfect for you” Corinna compliments, I agree with a nod and go to pick an outfit

I settle on something a little more comfortable since I’m pretty known to blackout easily. I decide on a red spaghetti strap crop top, a white pleated skirt, and my red and white old school Vans with a slightly oversized leather jacket. Natalie, Corinna, and I work on our hair and makeup. I decide on my usual look with my hair in a ponytail. After about an hour we head back to David’s to pregame.

We take shots and I’m pretty tipsy by the time we all get in David’s Tesla. I find my seat on Jeff’s lap. We loudly sing along to David’s music on the way to the club. We all get in and head to the section that David got us. Zane, Toddy, and I instantly gravitate towards the bottles already there. The loud music making me ready to act a fool for David’s vlog. After another three rounds of shots I become one with the music.

“Where the fuck am I?” I joke loudly, somehow I ended up on the floor while Zane danced on me and I smacked his ass

“Ow you bitch” He slurs, I laugh and Todd helps me off the ground

“OHH SAGE” Corinna yells, and there it is.. the familiar beat to ‘Back That Azz Up’

Corinna instantly gets behind me while I twerk on her. Everyone in our section forming a circle. I spot Natalie on the couch and I walk over to her before giving her a lap dance. David films her reaction while Jason hands her a bunch of singles. She throws it on me while I dance. The mixture of alcohol and music making me lose myself. The song ends and I’m a little sad. Although the universe instantly answers my prayers and I hear the beginning to ‘Panoramic’. This time I decide to dance with Jeff.

“You ready bub?” I ask, he looks at me nervously

“Huh? Oh my-” Jeff replies, I bend over and start dancing again

After a few seconds he quickly finds himself dancing with me as best as he can. Our friends scream as he gains confidence. He pulls me up by my neck, leaving a hand there as he pours the vodka in my mouth. I swallow and turn so Corinna can grind on me. I feel someone behind me and turn to see Natalie. The three of us forming a chain. Which we keep up depending on the song. After two hours David taps me on the shoulder

“Alright guys, let’s go back to my place. It’s getting a little stuffy in here” I nod and hand Jeff my things

I find myself in the passenger seat. Never a good thing in David’s vlogs. Somehow Zane had walked out with a full bottle of vodka and we were all passing it around. Before driving David turns his camera on and I’m too drunk to listen to reason

“David.. I’m so drunk” I yell above the music, he laughs and turns the camera so I’m more in view

“Is there anything we should ask Sage since I think she’s the most drunk here” David says, turning the music down as our friends fall quiet to think

“Sage what are your thoughts on Jeff getting a boner after you danced on him” Mariah asks, I laugh loudly and hiccup

“My thoughts? Head empty, no thoughts” I reply, they laugh and continue asking me questions

“Sage if you were a man for a day what would you do?” Jason asks, also recording me

“Dude I’d honestly try to have a threesome with Natalie and Corinna” I reply, he laughs before replying

“You try to do that now” He says, our friends laughing loudly

The car ride seems like it went on forever. Finally we ended up at David’s house, I quickly run to the fridge and grab water. Wanting to sober up a little bit because I felt too out of control of my body. I chug the water and throw the empty bottle into the recycling bin. Jeff walks over to me and hugs me from behind. I smile lazily and sway to the music David is playing.

“Can we get DoorDash please” I whine, the group instantly nods while Jeff and I walk over to the group

“Get a room you two” Carly jokes, watching me cling onto Jeff while he sat me down

“I fucking wish” I say, quietly sipping my water as Natalie takes everyone’s McDonald’s orders

I decided on a 20 piece chicken mcnuggets with sweet and sour sauce and a Sprite. I blush as Jeff’s hands find themselves on my thigh. It’s no secret that I’m high key attracted to Jeff, but it recently started becoming real that I actually have a crush on my best friend. I realize that all the girls were looking at me and my face turned bright red. They shared looks before pulling me off the couch and taking me outside.

“You have a real fucking crush on Jeff don’t you” Mariah says, the girls crowd around me as I laugh

“I need a fucking joint, yes I do ok” I confess, they scream and jump around and I can already see the guys heading out to see what all the commotion is about

“What’s going on out here ladies?” Todd asks, wrapping his arms around Natalie and Jeff came next to me and thankfully it was pitch black and he couldn’t see the blush spreading across my face

“God I need to smoke so bad what the fuck is wrong with me” I mumble, Jeff hears me and pulls a preroll out of his pocket

“Let’s go, princess” He says, asking our other friends if they want to join, Zane and Todd agree and we sit on the couch outside and smoke a little bit

After we finished the pre-roll I head back over to the girls. We continue talking and they encourage me to talk to him about it. Apparently he has an actual crush on me too. I brush them off the but the substances in my system were giving me too much courage.

“No no... I’ll think about it when I’m sober” I say, they all agree and we go back into the house

“Ok guys I think I’m gonna head out” I say, I had a few more drinks with Zane and Heath so I was back to being drunk and a little high

“You are not driving home like this” Dave says, I nod and look around. Carly left a while ago since her and Erin had a meeting in the morning and I didn’t want to disturb her because I knew I would be loud when I got home

“I’ll take her, I should head out anyways” Jeff replies, I grin and collect my things and grab a water from the fridge for the road

“Can I stay over? I miss Nerf and I can’t go to my apartment since Carly has something important in the morning and I don’t want to disturb her” I say, he nods with a big smile

“Sure thing princess. We’ll stop by the store and grab some makeup remover and face wash” He said, driving to the nearest CVS

After our quick run to the store we finally arrived at his apartment. We got in and I walk over to the fridge and get a water. I hear Nerf’s claws on the floor and crouch down. After petting him for about five minutes Jeff comes out with a shirt and some boxers. I smile gratefully and head to the bathroom.

I take my makeup off and wash my face. I change into the shirt and boxers and head out. I make myself comfortable on the couch while Jeff changes. He walks out and shakes his head

“No, your back and neck are going to be sore. Just share the bed with me” He said, I look at him skeptically but nod

“Finally, thank god I shaved recently” I joke, he laughs loudly as he shuts the door

“I’m not that tired, you wanna watch a movie?” He asks, turning the TV on I nod and let him pick while I make myself comfortable with Nerf

Halfway through the movie I start drifting off, resting my head on Jeff’s chest.

“Goodnight princess” He said, pressing a kiss to my head before turning the movie off

“Goodnight.. I love you” I mumble, not noticing the look on Jeff’s face

[emletish-fish]

7. what is you favorite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)

I chose three! One from each of my 'big fics'. No Zombies, Worst Prisoners and Good Boys under the cut:

NO ZOMBIES:

No Zombies was a delight to write. I had pretty much the whole idea from the get-go, (of a returned style AU with Hector coming to spend time with the family in the modern world). I finished it quick - and it's not too long (side-eyeing Good Boy and Worst Prisoner). It was the first fic where I felt like I really "stuck" the landing. I was quite flexible with my original outline, but I still knew where the journey ended. It ended exactly how I wanted it too - happily but with a bitter-sweet note.

The emotional core of this story is how Elena, family matriach, who is so gruff and no-nonsense, who despises Hector in the films, and who has such a warm heart under such a grumpy exterior would slowly soften and come to love Hector, (and how she grows as a person because of this and becomes more comfortable showing love/emotions to her family). It was like a platonic slow-burn as she learns to understand Hector better - which is why this bit is my favourite because it's where she starts to really feel fond of him for the first time:

“Well, I'm just glad I'm a better teacher for him than watching old Ernesto De La Cruz movies.” Héctor had replied with a wry smile. “It's probably because I'm so much more handsome than that butt-chinned, over-the-top ham.”

“Because you're a pointy-chinned, over-the-top ham?” Elena replied, feeling surprising witty. She never made teasing jokes like this normally, but it was so easy with Héctor.

He looked mock-offended. “I'll have you know, my chin is wonderful and I've given it to several of your grandchildren, so there.”

If Elena was a different person, she probably would have pulled Héctor into a warm, laughing hug then. She might have told him seriously that Miguel had always been difficult for her. He felt things so strongly and got so upset and emotional – she'd always struggled with how to help him, how to calm him. Miguel was so happy now. She knew that was because of Héctor.

She might have told Héctor that he was at least six thousand times the musician, eight thousand times the teacher, and ten thousand times the man that Ernesto De La Cruz was.

But Elena was who she was.

Instead she said “Idiot,” and ruffled his stupidly messy hair rather fondly.

She told herself she wasn't warming to the fool musician, but she knew it was a lie.

GOOD BOY:

My current work. It's another platonic slow-burn, but this time set in the Cobra Kai universe with son and father pair - Robby Keene and Johnny Lawrence. In the show, these two characters have such a dysfunctional relationship that is so full of miscommunications and missed chances, and they genuinely want a better relationship (and it would be so healing for both of them! Do not get me started!) I lean much more into the magical realism in this story, as I turned Robby into a dog (Animal transformation - PIXAR's Brave style), so that he could immediately get the cuddles and easy affection he so clearly needs.... because I have never seen a more touch/affection-starved character aside from Zuko in ATLA.

This also gave Robby a chance to really understand, not only his father, but the other people in his cicrcle. He discovered he had a support network. He got to know he was loved by many. he got to witness the actions people would take as they searched for human-him (not knowing that he'd been turned into a dog). And it gave Johnny a chance to learn how to take care of something, feel needed, and express his love for his son without the weight of their complicated history/his own trauma hanging over him. It was hard to pick a favourite, but I will say the Johnny-stream-of-conciousness chapters are definitely the easiest/most fun to write. One of my favourite bits is in the first one, The queen of ice-cream runaway when Johnny tells Robby about when Laura (his grandmother) found out Shannon was pregnant and she was going to be a grandmother.

It's the first inkling Robby gets that while his father wasn't there for him and he was neglected a lot, Johnny did his best to keep the bad shit from his own childhood away from Robby as his own way of showing care. It hints at the deep and damaging abuse Johnny endured. When he finally had a say with his own kid, he would have done anything to protect Robby from feeling the same. I'd say here is where Robby really begins to warm to his Dad;

Then I told her our chosen name and she said I was a dumbass and Swayze was a terrible middle name, and we had to change it to some shit like Alastair or something. She thought he should have a rich sounding middle name. And I say Mom, Alastair sounds like some lame-ass insurance broker who upskirts his secretary and then cries as he jerks off to the pictures, what else you got? She thought Sebastian, and that was worse! What a pussy name.  Sebastian is going to be sitting in the little french patisserie cafe drinking the tiny-ass coffee for dolls and eating the éclair with his prissy finger tips. I already want to kick Sebastian's ass. Who wouldn’t? I’m not going to give my kid a name that is going to get his ass kicked.

And she couldn't talk, cause she named me after Johnny Cash, just cause she liked his music. And she couldn't think of a middle name at the time, so I didn't get one. Thank goodness. I could have ended up Johnny Alastair and had to kick my own ass.

So Swayze stayed.

Then she mentions how she and Sid can help out, so I didn't need to do the two jobs, stupidly long hours thing. And we need the money. I know we need the money. But my whole body froze and I just went No. None of that for little Robby Swayze. ...

... She’s going on about spending Sid’s money on Robby and I just...I can’t. I can't allow it. Cause I knew how he would be, and the way he would treat that kid. So I tell her, no thank you. Not a fucking cent mom.  Sid’s not getting to feel like he owns a hair on Robby’s head. That motherfucker can go jump. You thought we needed Sid’s money when I was a kid. You decided it was better for me, and that was your choice. I did not get a vote in that. But this is my kid, and this time it is my call, and I am choosing no. I’m not going to have Sid make my kid feel like he has to apologise for existing every day. I'm not going to have Sid treat my kid the way he treated me. I will never need money that badly. I will never put my kid through that. I'll work myself to the bone doing 20 hour days before that. I'll work on the 40th floor without a harness before that.  I will sell my fucking organs before it comes to that. Not a cent mom.

WORST PRISONER:

My 'what if Zuko made friends with the Gaang early on?" AU that then turned into a three-book long saga (and I will return to it, Worst Prisoner readers - Thank you for you patience). It does have evenutal Zutara, but the focus is really on the Gaang + Zuko as a whole, and all the interpersonal relationships. I'd say there is more gen-shipping around Zuko as a central character, as Iroh & Zuko, and Sokka & Zuko are both given equal prominence. in fact, all the friendships and familial relationships were equally important to me. (the book 3 Zuko & Azula stuff is so interesting, but it is ...less funny I guess.)

This fic is such a joy to write, and I really try and balance the humour with the bittersweet/sad parts, and one of the main sources of humor was the Sokka-Aang-Zuko -Katara qudrangle of dumbassery. I love the four of them together in book 1, and so many of their interactions were a hoot to write. But if I'd have to pick a favourite moment, it would be the moment in the deserter chapter in book 1, where they all decide to 'officially' be friends:

“Well, you can figure that out and find someone while I'm up in the Northern Water Tribe. Then when we finish up there, we'll come find you,” Aang offered.

“Really?” Zuko’s eyes were shining optimistically. It was a strange expression for him. Aang was so used to seeing him with a grumpy face.

“Really, I promise,” Aang said, feeling so glad that he could help Zuko go home.

“Yeah, I second that. If this means we won’t have to put up with you chasing us, I am in!” Sokka said. “Sheesh, you could have just asked ages ago!”

“You know, this means I was right,” Aang started to say, feeling very vindicated. The others looked at him curiously. “If we had just talked about friendship in the forest, we could have sorted this out weeks ago!”

“Boo, forest friendship!” Sokka said.

“Don't boo him,” Katara admonished, elbowing her brother.

“I agree with Sokka. There's no way I would have appreciated that speech weeks ago, Aang,” Zuko said.

Sokka smiled at Zuko for saying he agreed with him. It actually wasn't that rare of an occurrence, but it still seemed to surprise Sokka every time.

“See, Aang, forest friendship is bullshit,” Sokka said.

“I didn't say that!” Zuko cut in. “I just meant, maybe … I had to be dragged all over the Earth Kingdom by you guys ... and shot ... and taken to nonsense fortune tellers ... and I had to be forced to eat Sokka's truly terrible and disgusting cooking—”

“Oi!”

“—and I had listen to Aang lecture me about friendship and vegetarianism in the forest just so I could come here.” He looked around at the deserters’ camp site. “I dunno, maybe it was meant to be this way.”

“What are you saying? You want to be forest friends with Aang now?” Sokka asked accusingly.

“I mean, sure. If Aang will have me, we can be friends,” Zuko said, and looked uncertain.

“Yay! I knew you'd want to be my friend,” Aang said, feeling delighted.

He was so happy he had a Fire Nation friend again. Kuzon had been an amazing friend, even though he'd gotten Aang into so many sticky situations. He had already thought Zuko was his friend, but it was nice to make it official. Aang always knew the Fire Nation had good people in it too, and now he had been proven right. He jumped up and gave Zuko a huge hug.

[adie-dee]

@yourocsbackstory​

Previous: Week 0: Introduction

Week 1:Fear

PROMPT - Think about your character’s past. When where they most afraid? What was the first time they encountered that fear, or the first time they opened up about it? Find an event, that is defining for their relationship with that emotion, and just write about it!

I really struggled with this one, and feel like it strayed too far from the prompt. I’m also currently fighting a nasty cold, so I’m not functioning at my normal level. Here’s hoping the following makes sense.

I ran through the halls of my parents home, trying to find somewhere to hide. Every time I thought I was safe I heard him, whistling Happy Birthday as he closed in. I needed to get away, get somewhere safe, to disappear until the time passed. I couldn’t let him catch me. 

Rounding the corner saw me back in our old house. Good. I knew of a secret entrance, hidden behind a fireplace in the drawing room and I immediately ran for it. Harrison had shown me the secret book lever once, and I was sure I could remember which one it was. 

Entering the drawing room confirmed that thought. It was the only real book, the rest painted bits of cardboard, and when I tugged on it I prepared myself to bolt through the secret entrance the moment it was wide enough for me to fit.

Only I wasn’t going to fit. The secret passage was gone, instead replaced with a birthday cake.

Blood-red icing dripped down the delicate white lilies of the three-tier cake, starting from a puddle around a kitchen knife buried in the top. Behind me the whistling grew louder and I scrambled with the books again, trying to find another that would open the passage.

Something flashed in the mirror on the mantelpiece and my heart dropped. I was too late. He was here. I turned to face him, the shadowman, the haunter of nightmares, resigned to my fate. This was the end. This was how it always ended.

A hand grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t kill me!” I screamed.

Sophie scrambled back from me, pulling the bed sheets up to her chest. “You were having a nightmare!” she stated, eyes wide. “Are you ok?”

That was right. It was a nightmare, nothing more, but knowing that did nothing to calm my racing heart. “I’m fine,” I replied, reaching for my drink to wet my dry mouth. But it wasn’t there. I wasn’t in my bed. I was in Sophies.

“You’re not. You were whimpering and crying and I was worried.”

“You bark in your sleep,” I reminded her, trying to deflect from the conversation.

“That’s different.” She came back over to me, shifting so she was sitting cross-legged at my side. “You still have tears on your face. And you stink of fear.”

My hand went to my face, the tears on my cheek clinging to my fingertips when I touched them. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” My voice wavered as I spoke, and I knew I was lying. My birthday was only six months away, and the closer it got, the worse my dreams became.

Sophie frowned, her eyes searching my face. “It’s not nothing; even if I couldn’t smell it, I can see your fear in your face. What’s got you so scared?”

“Dreamed a giant Care Bear was terrorising the city, godzilla-style.” 

She frowned again. 

“It really is nothing,” I told her, trying to believe it myself so she wouldn’t know I was lying. “But I should probably go home. I have an early start in the morning.” Another lie, but I didn’t want to be here any longer. Not if she was going to pry.

As I went to climb out of her bed, she caught my hand. “You don’t have to hide things from me,” she said, her voice soft. “I know you’re different, and you know about me. And I care about you, yeah? You’re not just some girl in my bed. You can trust me.”

Could I? Mum would say I couldn’t, but she always said that. That not knowing who had me cursed meant I could never know who I could trust, but surely she didn’t mean Sophie. Sophie was younger than me and really nice and—

Could be working for the enemy, Mum’s voice whispered. She would be so upset about Sophie, and Faith too, even though I hadn’t told either anything about who I really was. I couldn’t let anyone get close. 

“I do,” I told her, detangling my hand from hers. “But it’s nothing, really.” I beamed at her, my smile as fake as my words, then scooped up my underwear. Run, every instinct was shouting at me. Now. 

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be planning on walking home at three in the morning. You’re just leaving because you’re scared. And not of a care bear. You’re scared of opening up to me and trusting me. Because doing that would mean admitting you actually have feelings for me.”

“No feelings was the agreement,” I reminded her as I hunted for my abandoned tshirt. A walk home might do me some good, especially as it didn’t seem to be raining. The cool night air always made me feel better, and I hoped it would help me shake the nightmare.

“I don’t mean relationship feelings. Friend feelings. Because other than Faith, I’m the only person you haven’t completely pushed away.”

I hated that she was right. I didn’t want friends. Friends were someone who could hurt me, or he used against me, or be hurt by my death. And I didn’t want any of that. 

Clothes sorted, I started pulled on my shoes. “We’re friends!” I insisted.

“We’re not. If we were, you would have told me things about you. Like your power. Or your favourite cheese. Or your name.”

“It’s Brie.”

“Your name?”

“My favourite cheese.”

She leaned back against her pillow, crossing her arms. “It’s a start. But you can’t keep people out forever.”

“I know.” But I could try, at least until my birthday.

“You’re a terrible liar!”

I crawled back onto the bed. “I know that too.” I told her, punctuating it with a small kiss. “See you at Revolver on Saturday?”

“Maybe. I have a date with a shifter from the Brunswick clan. So I’ll be there if it’s terrible.”

“I’m so happy for you!” My heart sank as I said it. If this worked out I then wouldn’t see her again, as she never went clubbing while dating. And we never just hung out. But it was for the best. I’d taken a big enough risk as it was. 

“Are you?”

“Yes!” I jumped back off the bed and grabbed my things. “This has been fun, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, but I always knew it was going to end. And so I’ll be happy if they make you happy. You deserve that.” I forced another smile. “See you around sometime.”

“Why does that sound like goodbye?” She called after me.

I paused in her doorway. “Because it probably is.”

[rrickgrrimes8]

Normality is Death

Chapter Two ~ My Current Existence

masterlist

My eyes darted across the room as I woke, rather abruptly, in a cold searing sweat. The whole room was matted in darkness and the lantern I had lit the night before had not soon gone out. I sighed hopelessly and pushed myself out of bed sliding my combat boots on as I did. I looked outside to see the break of dawn just highlighting the horizon - it's early then I concluded. I stretched and yawned as I left my room locking the door right after - just to be safe. 

A lot has happened since Mom, Shane and Carl left me in the forest that day, too much has happened really. It's been around 3 months since I last saw my family and although I'd like to stay hopeful, I can't shake the feeling that they're dead or hurt in some way. But regardless I need to forget them. They left me. End off - period. My family abandoned me and I have to live knowing that and they have to live knowing that they played a hand in what they think was my death. I know it sounds cold, brutal even but I tried, I really did. I looked for them everywhere. I did everything a 14-year-old girl could possibly do in a world like this and I almost died countless times trying. So I gave up. I gave up not only to protect myself but because I realised that they probably wouldn't be looking for me. Hell, they think I'm dead right? 

Since everything happened in Atlanta the government had been completely radio silent. Lots of people think it's because there's no one left to send a signal. I, however, believe that that's extremely morbid and I guess I'm still holding out hope that someone will swoop in and save us all. It sounds very fairy tale I get that. It's just I'm a 14-year-old girl and I'm so sick of this world already. To the point where I couldn't even think about living any longer in a world like this. 

Sometime during the second month of what people like to call the turning, I met some people. They took me in gave me food, a shelter, some water. Basically, they gave me essential shit I was definitely lacking. Something they also did was train me. I'm not the best, but I do have pretty basic training in hand to hand combat, the basic workings of a gun (thanks to my father mostly) and I'm pretty good with melee weapons. They protected me is what I'm saying. They are my new family - a better family I could ever ask for. 

Our camp consists of 2 houses, housing 4 or 5 people in each. Mitchell, our leader, oversees any newcomers and basically keeps law and order around here. I met them after getting trapped in Atlanta and getting cornered by a dozen or so biters. Mitchell and a few others came in and massacred all of the living dead and took me in.

"Yoohoo! Jacey get your ass up it's your turn to hunt!" my friend, Addie, shouted rudely to me as I walked down the stairs. 

"Jeez Addie, I'm coming don't get ya panties in a twist," I teased nudging her shoulder once I got close enough. She had her usual skinny jeans and a grey tank top on but her hair was styled in a pair of small buns rather than her usually high pony. 

At my reply, her eyebrows furrowed and her usually bright and beautiful eyes closed before sighing. "Do not jeez me, woman, you've got shit to do you're slacking!" she exclaimed practically pushing me out the door and into the burning sun. I promptly lifted my hands to cover my eyes from the brightness. 

"Oh my lord, I know it's your thing to be this emo vampire goth girl who only stays in her room away from people, civilization and oh how could I forget the sun. but this is ridiculous it ain't even bright out." Addie joked forcing my arm down making me embrace the scorching heat. 

"You call this civilization? If so you've got a warped definition" I said picking up a knife and gun from the armoury. 

"Just go before I get even more sick of you, Jace," Addie laughed as I rolled my eyes, gave her the finger and strutted away sassily. "And you be careful kid Mitchell went out yesterday and there were more biters then usual. He thinks a herd might pass through so don't use your gun and you know don't die?" She said almost seriously which was incredibly out of style for her but nevertheless, I smiled and walked off into the woods. 

She was right about the number of biters. After only being out an hour I've seen 16 in our woods alone and I haven't even ventured out in the city yet, which is notoriously worse but I only really have to go to Atlanta if we're desperate. I had only picked up 2 squirrels so far I guessed that the movement of the herd could be driving some of the bigger animals away, which sucks because once I tell Mitchell he's just gonna want me to go into Atlanta to gather supplies. I mentally groaned and sat down against some tree, wishing things were different. 

"Looky what we have here gentlemen." A husky voice called out from the shadows. I instantly stood up and gathered my findings and unsheathed my machete. 

"What the hell do you want?" I stood my ground as I saw a group of maybe 5 guys come closer. 

"Ooh she's sassy," the guy who looked to be the leader teased, "always liked a girl with a little spunk in her as long as she learns to shut up when daddy needs some pleasing." I could've thrown up right then and there if not for the guard I needed to keep up. 

"You're fucking disgusting," I stated unforgivingly, earning some laughs from the group. 

"You really are quite confident aren't ya?" I stayed quiet as he stepped forward, "I can always give you a lesson or two about respect and I mean clothing's optional." 

"How about you shut the fuck up before you really piss me off," I said calmly still showing my anger. 

The man in front of me however got furious over my words and brought his hand down to my cheek. I fell to the ground at the impact, "I told you to learn some fucking respect little girl." 

"And I said to shut the fuck up you creepy bastard," I got my machete out and cut into the guy's leg not giving any warning before punching him in the face, sending him towards the ground, "But you know speaking about respect. How about you learn some fucking respect for me or you know all of my gender?" I more ordered then questioned while striking the guy in the face again. "And next time, asshole, watch your tone when you speak to a woman," I smiled sweetly at him before marching off into the opposite direction. 

"Oh and if I see anyone of you anywhere around here, I'll chop each and every single one of your dicks off."

I arrived back home later that night after hunting another squirrel and a rabbit on top of my earlier findings. 

"So whatcha get for us tonight babydoll?" Mitchell said after seeing me walk up. Mitchell was a 25-year-old now-former English teacher who somehow became our leader. He wasn't extraordinarily brave nor was he an elite strategist but he was a good mentor, who had people that trust him - those people including me. 

"Just some squirrel and a rabbit nothin' special." Mitchell nodded as I started to walk away, "Any trouble?" 

I span around to him before saying, "always." Mitchell gave me an unimpressed look before taking my hunt and walking away. 

"Why am I not surprised?" he laughs while passing most of our group towards the fire. "Anything serious?" I shook my head before sitting on the rough log placed next to the heat. 

"Jus' some jackasses who thought they could take me. Guess I taught them a lesson in respect." Once again Mitchell laughed and sat next to me. 

"I know I don't need to tell you this every time you go out but you've got to be careful, okay? Your safety is my top priority and I know you hate to hear it but you're only a kid. And kids can get hurt pretty easily especially in this sort of life and I'd hate to see that happen to you." Mitchell wrapped his arm around me in a brotherly sort of way as I nodded. I understand he just wanted to help regardless of how much I hate to be called a kid. 

"I'm smart Mitchy. I'm not just some dumb kid. Plus haven't you heard I'm kind of undefeatable. Nothin can kill me," I boasted standing up and heading away from the majority of our group and back to my room. Before I left I saw Mitchell smiling then going off to talk to someone else.

I entered my room lighting a candle straight away and then dropping my bag. As soon as I entered all I could smell was the stenched of sweat and gore. I honestly don't think I've ever gone this long without a shower and I miss it so goddamn much. I miss so many things. I miss deodorant, a warm bed, fast food, soda and not to mention my mom's famous spaghetti bolognese. Just because I wasn't a fan of the woman does not mean I cannot love the food because damn she could cook. The only thing she couldn’t master, however, was pancakes but that didn’t stop her from trying. I smiled slightly reminiscing of the family meals we would have whenever we got the chance. We would all sit around the table talking, eating and just enjoying being around each other. But now they're gone so that's not going to happen anytime soon for me.

"What are you doing, Grimes?" Addie asked pulling me out of my trance.

"Nothin'," I spoke shortly before lying down onto my bed. 

"Don't seem like nothing. Talk to me, love." She walked over and sat next to me taking her hand into mine. 

"M' okay," I reassured her before closing my eyes. I felt Addie shift closer to me still holding my hand causing me to smile. 

Addie was the only other teenager in this group so we bonded pretty quickly despite her being 2 years older, "You don't have to be okay, Jacey." I couldn't help but shudder at her words - the same words I heard from Shane the day it happened. 

"Don't say that, please." I hadn't even realised the quiver in my voice before Addie sat up, bringing me with her. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you," The brunette girl said to me. 

"It's not you i-it's jus'-" I couldn't finish my sentence before I started to sob. Memories of that night haunted me. I lost so much and so did everyone else but I couldn't understand how they were so okay with it. I lost my home, my dad, my family and my childhood all in one night. And I'm so sick of trying to be okay with that. "I just miss them so much." I finished while getting devoured by Addie's arms. I could hear her softly singing in my ear in order to calm me down and it soon did. I relaxed into her arms after a few minutes but neither of us made any indication that we were going to depart. 

"Who did you lose?" She asked gently. 

"Everyone," I could feel myself beginning to cry again but I pushed it away - I couldn't be weak any longer. 

"I'm sorry, Jacey. I hate seeing you like this. I wish I could take your pain away." 

I hummed shakily before looking up into her brown eyes, "Then do it." With that, she leaned in. Slowly I started to prepare myself to meet her lips but it never came. 

She pulled away from me and stood up, "We can't do this."

I sat up as well but remained seated on the bed, "Why?" She gave me no answer and just looked out of the window. "Addie, please, just tell me why not? For christ sakes, the world has ended. We've got nothing else to lose." 

"It's wrong," She said simply yet with so much emotion and left the room.

I felt the tears begin to return and I just let them fall.

"It's wrong."

That's all it took to break me -  2 words. 

"She's right."