#its because later in the movie the carrying handle at the top is attached the other way around

[pine-killer55]

I made a prop!

I made a replica of the jvc gr-c1 camcorder (as seen in the scene in the parking lot specifically)

I spend two days on making a 3d model. It took me six days to seperate it into smaller parts, fix some mistakes, slice, 3d print the 6 parts and to glue all of it together. And after a couple of days of painting i was done.

Even though it is missing some deatails, has some stuff i got wrong and is a tiny bit too small i really love how it turned out. It feels very nice to hold it.

[wizkiddx]

a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint. 

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs. 

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit. 

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her. 

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie. 

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both. 

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger. 

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder. 

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow. 

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.” 

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night. 

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama. 

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing. 

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk. 

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned,  now worrying that something had happened. 

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you. 

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child. 

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant. 

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you. 

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest. 

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course. 

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him. 

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is. 

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?” 

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself. 

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ). 

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks. 

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your  heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too. 

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work. 

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland. 

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright. 

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’. 

“Come on lets get you both to bed.” 

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two . 

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive. 

And that was more than fine by you.  

[youngbugandtonystank]

I think Peter has a great development in FFH, and one that people sadly go through in the real world: struggling with grief but realizing life goes on. You suggested you analyze Peter’s grief in FFH and I would love that, emotional as it is, it’s inspiring for people going through the same thing. Please do it! Thanks

Hi!

I was going to do the Happy one first but I’ve been wanting to do this one for a while, so I’m going to start with this analysis. Hope you guys don’t mind. Also, I’m sure they were more asks about the FFH one and I’m sorry if I didn’t include yours in the list but my inbox is a mess right now, so I apologize. 

As an expert-master of grief that I am lol I think I really can read Peter pretty well in this movie, one of the reasons I was avoiding this analysis was because it’s too painful for me hahaha, it hits close to home. 

Now, let’s track this down. Peter is just a kid but this kid has been through so much, it’s painful. Peter lost his parents and was sent to live with his aunt and uncle, then he, unfortunately, had to see his father figure; Ben Parker, die in front of him and the result of that gave him a sense of responsibility for the rest of his life: 

‘When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.‘

He's always walking around with a ton of traumatic and painful memories. 

Let’s be honest, he believes he ‘killed’ his own uncle, that it was because of him that Ben is dead. It happened because of him from his perspective. So it’s natural for this boy to pass through a long process of grief but here’s the catch, Peter never does. Peter always avoids tragedy until it piles up to the point of unbearable. Peter bears with his responsibility and holds himself accountable for things that are not even his fault but this kid is not capable of processing grief the way it’s supposed to be. I think he wasn’t completely healed of his grief from Ben’s death when he met Tony but as the time passed and he saw another opportunity of having that amazing experience of having another male parental figure, he relented. And now I bet he regrets it.

I kinda wish FFH went into more detail with this so certain fans would understand why having Tony was a good thing for Peter. As he got to know Tony, he started to let him in. He saw him as a father figure and relied on him just like any other teenager would with their parents. Peter was starting to process of healing with Tony. One of the things I love the most about their relationship is that they helped each other grow. Tony learned and experienced something new when he met Peter and Peter started to let another figure into his life. 

Many of you don’t like this but this kid did want Tony’s approval. He confirmed this himself:

In all the weirdness and outside-of-himselfness that went along with becoming Spider-Man, that one conversation with Mr. Stark had made Peter feel . . . okay. Normal, even. Something he never thought he'd feel again. Peter knew he should feel all these things without needing Mr. Stark's approval. That your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man didn't need the approval of multibillionaire, Super Hero philanthropists to help out the people on his block. But, right now? Peter wanted Mr. Stark to approve of him more than anything.

And this translates into the movie so well, Tony made Peter feel normal, made him feel understood and that he didn’t need to do this alone. Peter always feels like he’s the only one that can do things. He feels alone. 

He looked from the ship to the other kids on the bus to see if anyone else saw it. Nothing. Just him. As usual.

He even described Ned as ‘blissfully ignorant of any imminent danger.’

So after getting used to just him and May, after meeting Tony, after getting used to being Spider-Man, Peter creates a sense of stability and normalcy that helps him heal and continue with his life at a semi-normal pace. In Endgame, he loses that stability all over again. When you lose something that is essentially keeping you together, you start using coping mechanisms to fill in the spots that you consider empty. The ones that are going to break you. Peter doesn’t feel ready to handle all of that pain at once so he starts avoiding the issue. 

Peter not only lost Tony, but he also lost his life and remembers fighting in a big war where he got attacked multiple times by an alien army and the mad titan that killed him, Tony and half of the universe. Nobody is ready to deal with that kind of trauma. Nobody. 

FFH tells us that it’s been 8 months since The Blip. 8 months Peter’s been avoiding things related to Tony and everything related to Titan in general. He doesn't want to feel the weight of all-consuming grief because one minute he had everything and the next, that disappeared, his semi-normalcy was broken up by waves of tragedy.

Notice how in HOCO he was desperately seeking the superhero big-league adventures; wanting to be part of the Avengers, fighting crime on a bigger scale, fighting villains and more, then in FFH, he was desperately seeking the normal life experiences; romance, field trips, school events, etc. 

And I think everyone around him can feel that coming from him so they make sure to reassure him all the time and he gratefully accepts any kind of reassuring comfort he can get from anyone: 

There are so many hugs in this movie, I can’t keep track of all of them. I was surprised Peter didn’t hug Mr. Delmar too, I think he even hugged his teacher on one occasion lmao

I think we all know who was the last person Peter hugged before all of this:

It’s really sad when he’s trying his hardest to avoid all of his trauma and nothing seems to work for him. He avoids Fury’s calls, tells May he really needs a break and that he really needs the trip, everything to get as far away as possible from New York.

Anything that saves him from thinking about this:

First, look at him. He’s in a room full of drawings dedicated to Tony Stark and the kid is talking about a plan on how to woo a girl, even Ned is wondering what is going on. Then he advises him to not do any of that.

Then, on the plane, he has to actually listen to his teacher talk about funerals and his only entertainment from the rest of the trip is:

Then he arrives and they get attacked by a gigantic monster. And Peter fights this monster. He hears his classmates discuss this and he hears them call Mysterio a combination of Iron Man and Thor. Notice how after this, instead of calling someone for help or find out where did that monster comes from, he just starts talking about his plan all over again, like nothing happened. Anything related to Tony is a big nope for him.

Unfortunately for Peter:

He’s everywhere. Peter is starting to realize he can’t escape Tony anymore. He told Happy that he sees his face everywhere he goes, this is not only confirmation that Peter’s been trying to avoid it but that he can’t no longer pretend Tony’s not there. 

On every occasion someone brought up Tony, Peter couldn’t handle it. He either breaks down or has a panic attack. 

He quickly gets attached to someone else and even tells Beck that it’s nice to have someone to talk to about the superhero world, who used to do that with him? Tony. Peter deeply misses him but he’s not willing to accept the fact that he’s gone, he’s just pushing and pushing that reality away from him. Beck is a great manipulator and he can see that Peter doesn’t want to be reminded of this so he pushes Peter back on the topic: ‘It's a hard path. You see things, you do things... Make choices. People look up to you... Even if you win a battle sometimes, they die.’

He even MAKES Peter see Tony everywhere, he’s using Tony’s death against him. He’s taking advantage of the fact that the poor kid can’t handle his father figure’s death: 

You know he’s the villain and you what he’s trying to do, but the fact that even he can see what Peter’s trying to do is really sad. He later tells Peter this: ‘ I tried to help you walk away. Now you're making me do this…’ and proceeds to show him Tony’s grave, Iron Man’s zombie suit and tells him what Peter’s been thinking this whole time: ‘If you were good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive’

He’s dealing with two things at the same time: grief and trauma. His grief won’t let him breathe and his trauma is not letting him forget. It’s back and forth. If he lets any of these things in, then he knows he’s done for sure. Everything is going to come back in. 

Let's check the boxes:

Peter doesn’t want to remember or touch anything related to Tony.

He doesn’t want to deal with his own trauma/PTSD.

He doesn’t want to carry Tony’s legacy. He feels like he’s not ready and feels like he’s never going to be ready for that.

He’s desperately trying to live his life even if he feels like he’s breaking apart every 5 minutes.

This kid needs help lmao

There are occasions where he spaces out, gets angry, looks like he’s about to choke, etc.

These are the symptoms of someone who’s dealing with PTSD.

When you’re dealing with trauma, you feel the need to shield yourself from everything that might hurt or trigger you. In some parts of the movie, I felt like Peter wasn’t even there. Just think about it. He disappeared and he felt himself disappear before anyone else did. He lost his sense of reality for a couple of seconds but it was enough, life took too much from him in just those seconds. For him, it was 5 minutes but in reality, he lost 5 years. On top of that, you can tell he feels guilty for Tony’s death as well even if its not his fault. 

This is the part that haunts me:

And this is the one that heals me: 

Let’s be clear, this movie is about Peter learning how to be his own superhero and learning that it’s ok if he doesn’t meet other’s expectations. But this kid still needs to process grief, he still needs to work on his traumas, he needs to get some help. He doesn’t just heal after defeating the villain and that’s it. Hopefully, we’ll see that in the next movie.

Ok, off-topic but I swear, when Beck said Peter looked stupid with Tony’s glasses, I was about to throw some serious hands lmaooo

Thnx♥

[softforcal]

Pong Master : Harry Styles

Summary: You’re Harry’s best friend and he invites you down to the tropics while he’s writing his new album. You’ve always been secretly into each other and it comes to a climax over a game of Strip Ping Pong.

Warnings: i mean. its smut. but it’s also soft.

Word Count: 9.4k

--------

     When you’d arrived at the remote villa and realized that the casita living room had a ping pong table, it had been obvious that copious amounts of time would be spent with playing against Harry who was a known lover of the ‘sport.’

     As one of his best friends in the whole world, Harry had invited you down to the tropics to hang out and have fun while he worked on a new album. You’d known when you agreed to the ‘vacation’ that a lot of his time would go towards working. Most of the people he invited in his entourage were musicians, you being practically the only one who had no obvious reason to be there.

     But Harry had insisted on you coming. You supposed it made sense. He could spend hours working and surrounding himself with musically inclined people but at the end of the day, he often just wanted to collapse on the couch with you and put on some cheesy romantic movie that you’d both seen way too many times.

     The house Harry had rented was huge, with its own studio, multiple bedrooms for everyone, a pool, a massive kitchen and two living rooms. A decently sized casita next to the pool had a bedroom and the room with the pool table, there was also a dart board and a large tv with a couch.

     The property definitely had enough space for you to roam around in and do your own thing while people worked on the album, and the town and beach were only a short walk away. There was nothing about the situation that you could complain about.

     Harry had assigned rooms and he claimed that there were a lot of factors he had considered that he was ‘not at liberty to discuss’ and people rolled with it, fanning out over the villa. He’d walked with you out to the casita, carrying your bag like the gentleman he was.

     “So… why am I all the way out here?” you asked hesitantly as your fingers skimmed the top of the pool table, trying to sound nonchalant, but something must have slipped through the cracks because Harry frowned, setting your bag down.

     “Put you out here cuz we’re going to be working a lot love, figured you could get away from the sounds in case we stay up late or start early.”

     It was a good reason, “oh, i hadn’t thought of that.” you admitted, flashing a smile at Harry who still looked concerned.

     “You didn’t think I wanted you out here to keep you seperate or-” he began but you cut him off by placing your hand on his heavily tattooed forearm.

     “I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but it’s cool Harry, you just explained it to me, it’s good.” you reassured him.

     He looked over your face, gauging if you were being legitimate or just trying to make him feel better. When he had decided that, as you said, it was no worry, he finally grinned, “plus… ping pong table!”

     “Yeah.” you laughed as both of you turned your gaze to it.

     “We can stay up as late as we want out here playing ping pong or watching movies and we won’t keep anyone else awake, yeah?” he asked, trying again to give you more insight into why he’d put you in the separate (and slightly secluded) Casita.

     “What if I get lonely out here?” you asked, only half joking.

     “Well you’re welcome inside any time you want love, my bed is big enough for the both of us, or I could come here, we haven’t had a proper sleep over in ages.” he sighed.

     It had been quite some time since you’d shared a bed. It used to be something you two had done when you were younger, but as the years went by, things had gotten more difficult.

     Not by anything either of you had done, but when it came out that Harry Styles’ best friend was a girl and bed sharing was a thing… well, the media had had a field day, and just like other relationships in his life, yours had been slightly marred from the limelight. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed, but it was a factor to consider whenever the two of you hung out.

     Leaving his apartment in the morning after a night of crying from watching the titanic just didn’t have the same appeal as it once had when you realized you’d be all over the tabloids and internet within a few hours of getting home.

     “Let’s get you settled then.” Harry suggested, once more picking up your bag and carrying it into the bedroom attached to the main casita area. The bed was huge and windows overlooked the ocean, “you also have the best view.” Harry pointed out.

     You elbowed your best friend in the ribs before jumping onto the king sized bed. He set your bags down and joined you, the two of you jumping for a little bit before collapsing, backs pressing against the soft duvet as you stared at the ceiling, “this album is going to be a good one Harry, i can feel it.”

     “I fucking hope so.”

---

     You’d spent the entire first day with the group of musicians, checking out the villa then going into town to get groceries. You stuck to Harry’s side like glue, still not as close to the others in the group as you would have liked to be, but Harry didn’t mind.

     His arm slung over your shoulder casually as you walked through the small supermarket. He was on one of his cleanses again, filling the shopping cart with all sorts of vegetables and fruits.

     He’d held up a fruit you’d never seen before in your life, all spiney and yellow, “this can be juiced right?” he asked.

     “How should I know?” you’d laughed, watching him toss it into the cart along with some coconuts and kiwis. He grabbed a little of everything, wanting to have the house stocked with as many tropical health foods as he could, things that would be easy enough to eat while working.

     Harry had rented a large van for the duration of the stay and everyone had piled inside to be driven the short ten minute distance to town. With the added groceries it was obvious there wouldn’t be enough space for the large group and Harry, as always, was the first to volunteer to walk back instead of hitching a ride.

     The road gave a beautiful view of the ocean and the warm tropical air was pleasant, the day too early to be too hot to handle, so you’d agreed to walk with him.

     His musician friends had promised to have everything set up for working by the time you two walked back to the villa and Harry had waved his hand, saying “don’t worry about it.” because Harry rarely outwardly worried.

     You’d chatted while you walked, discussing the vibe he wanted to accomplish and the lyrics he’d already started working on.

     It had always been easy for you to talk to Harry. That was a perk of growing up together, you were completely comfortable around each other.

     When you got back to the villa, someone had prepared a whole tray of sandwiches and sliced fruit. The main living room where they would be jamming had a whole glass wall section that opened up, exposing the pool and stunning view of the ocean.

     You grabbed some food and went to the casita, leaving your door open as you ate, checking out the place you’d be living for the next few weeks while the soft sound of a guitar filled the room.

     When you’d finished eating, you checked out the dart board, taking a few practice throws to see if you could get the hang of it so that when you finally competed against Harry, you’d be at least a little bit ahead.

     Then you went to the tv, turning it on to see if it had Netflix which, thankfully, it did.

     There were a few rom coms you hadn’t seen, the type of movie that you knew Harry would enjoy, so you made a mental note to remember to bring them up later.

     As the day got hotter and the musicians had been working for a few hours, you decided to go for a swim in the pool. Putting on a cute little bikini you had bought specially for the trip, you grabbed a towel and left the casita.

     People seemed to be taking a bit of a break. Harry still sat with Mitch and a writer, the three of them agonizing over a sheet of paper while others walked around the kitchen or sat in the shade on their phones.

     You felt Harry’s eyes on you as you set down your towel and slid into the pool, enjoying the coolness of the water that contrasted the heat of the air.

     There was a small commotion and by the time you turned to look, a huge splash had hit you in the face and you screamed, knowing exactly what had just happened.

     Your best friend resurfaced, shaking his short shaggy curls like a dog, sending water flying everywhere. Harry’s hand pushed his hair out of his face and exposed his cheeky, dimpled grin.

     He was still fully clothed and you laughed, “just couldn’t wait to get in the water huh?”

     “Nope, looked invitin’.” he mused, swimming closer to you.

     “Don’t even think about it Styles.” you warned but he was already trying to grab at you. His hands slipped against your skin as you wiggled away, splashing at him in an effort to escape. Harry’s laugh was music to your ears as you managed to evade his prying hands and the promise of being fully dunked under the water.

     He chased you around the pool for a little while, the two of you splashing at each other and giggling, then Mitch called Harry back to continue to work.

     “This isn’t over.” Harry promised. His hands went to the side of the pool and you watched his shoulders, strong under the soaking wet button up he was still wearing. Harry easily pulled himself out of the pool, shaking some of the water off of himself, discarding his shirt and his pants on the pool deck which made everyone groan. Mitch threw Harry a towel and he padded inside to get a change of clothes.

     You continued to swim around, grabbing a floaty to lounge on while you listened to their progress for a little while.

     Harry tried to control himself, but his eyes kept going to you.

     Laying flat on an ice cream shaped blow up, eyes closed as you tanned, you were gorgeous. He swallowed, tearing his gaze away from you, he focused back to his work but, like clockwork, his eyes found you again and again and again.

     When you finally left to go back to your casita, Harry was able to concentrate.

     At around dinner time, you came back out. Everyone was still working and the sound of Harry singing comforted you while you began to cook. They were all busy so you thought it would be nice if you made dinner for everyone.

     Spaghetti and meatballs were easy enough to make. While the noodles cooked and the meatballs heated in the oven you chopped up a large salad, knowing that not everyone would be down for the carbs.

     When the smell of cooking food reached the group working, they finally took a break. Harry joined you in the kitchen, standing next to you, eyes going to the pasta.

     “Look at you, what a chef.” he mused, watching as you took a strand of pasta out of the boiling water to see if it was cooked.

     You handed it to him and he put it in his mouth, nodding his head to tell you it was done.

     He silently helped you, carrying the pot to the sink where you set up a colander. You put the finished pasta back in the empty pot and he set it down, grabbing plates for everyone while you took the meatballs from the oven, mixing everything.  

     The two of you had always just clicked, working in sync. Always aware of where the other was.

     A light touch on the small of your back had you moving slightly to make room for Harry and a little bump of your hip against him would make him laugh, getting out of your way.

     His friends watched the two of you work and everyone helped take the food to the large dinner table.

     Harry sat at the head of the table, immediately moving a chair out for you with his foot as you took a seat on his right side.

     As everyone ate, you discussed music, world politics, what was on the top charts, that sort of thing. Whenever Harry felt like you weren’t putting much into the conversation because you were shy, he’d direct things at you. He knew you inside and out so it was easy enough for him to slip things into the conversation.

     You found yourself getting more and more comfortable with the others at the table and soon they were even asking you questions, eager to get to know you.

     Finally someone brought up the elephant in the room, “so you two have never dated?”

     “Nope.” you answered.

     “Not that I haven’t tried, this girl has rejected me more times than I can count.” Harry teased, earning a shove against his shoulder as you laughed.

     “Don’t listen to him.” you told everyone, “he’s a liar.”

     “Ouch, that hurts love.” Harry mocked sadness, but a cheeky grin spread over his face, dimples flashing as he looked at you with complete adoration in his eyes.

     The group allowed you to change the topic but it was obvious to everyone at the table, besides you and Harry of course, that no one really believed that you and Harry were ‘just’ friends. The way you and Harry acted together screamed ‘couple’ and everyone knew it was just a matter of time before you two realized it as well.

     When dinner finished Harry made everyone thank you for the lovely food and refused to let you help clean up, hands settling on your shoulders to make you stay seated while he grabbed plates.

     A few of his friends went to the kitchen to help clean up and you stayed at the table, chatting with his friends. One of them got particularly daring and made a comment about their productivity being great after you stopped distracting Harry from the pool but the suggested connotation of what he was saying went completely over your head.

     When everything was done and the table was clean, the group went back to work, Harry sending you a quick wink before you walked back to the casita.

     You busied yourself on your laptop and a few hours flew by. You didn’t notice the music outside coming to an end until your casita door opened and Harry peaked his head in, “great! You’re still awake!” he grinned, inviting himself in. He came to join you on the couch.

     “How was the writing?” you asked.

     “It’s going good, think we’re almost done a song.” he said, “anythin’ good on netflix?”

     You told him about the movies you’d found and just like that, the two of you were curled next to each other, your head on his shoulder as you watched a cheesy movie that made you both laugh together.

     It must have been around one in the morning by the time he finally left, saying “sleep well, if you get scared just come in th’ house, my door will be unlocked.”

     The hug you gave him at the door lasted just a tad longer than usual as you both enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in each others arms, then he offered a small smile and left. You watched him walk to the main house, not looking back.

     You slept well that night, surrounded by plush white blankets.

     Sunlight seeping through the window woke you up and you smiled, stretching your arms over your head as you rolled out of bed. It was another warm day so you slipped on some shorts and a shirt.

     People were already awake and making music, the sounds greeted you as you opened your door and padded to the main house, offering a small wave and a smile to the guitarists who waved back.

     Harry was in the kitchen. His hair was a mess, sticking up every which way. He was shoving vegetables into a juicer, eyebrows furrowed with focus.

     “You look tired.” you mused, brushing past him to open the fridge.

     “Had no one to snuggle with.” he answered, “couldn’t sleep.”

     “Hmm, you mean your tinder dates didn’t work out for ya last night?” you teased.

     Harry rolled his eyes, groaning loudly, he turned to look at you, “you look rested. I suppose your tinder date worked out quite well, huh, love?”

     “Oh definitely.” you said with enthusiasm, pouring yourself some juice, “made him sneak out at dawn to escape, wouldn’t have wanted my keeper to see the guy or he would have been a gonner.”

     “Your keeper?” Harry looked perplexed.

     You laughed, “You. You’re my keeper Harry.”

     “Hmm.” he crossed his arms over his chest, “I mean, if you’re going to make that sort of judgement about me, at least call me sir or daddy or something more fun than your ‘keeper.’”

      “I am never calling you daddy... or sir.” you said pointedly, taking a sip of your juice.

     Harry quirked an eyebrow, “never say never love.”

     You rolled your eyes, grinning, “piss off.”

     “You love me.” he stated, reaching out an arm that wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you to his chest.

     He was warm and smelled distinctly like Harry, a mix of expensive cologne and the cherry chapstick he sometimes more.

     Someone called Harry’s name and he let you go, “so what are you doing today?” he asked.

     “Thought I’d go check out the town a little.” you answered.

     He frowned, “wish I could come with but I gotta finish this song-”

     “I know, it’s okay, that’s why you’re here Harry. Don’t worry. Your work comes first.” you assured him, reaching out to give his hand a little squeeze.

     He nodded, smiling slightly, “be careful.”

     “I will.”

     He grabbed his sloshy, unappetizing, orange coloured juicer drink and left the kitchen to join the group waiting for him.

     True to your word, you spent the day in town looking around. There were so many interesting things you were just itching to take a picture of and send to Harry but you held yourself back, not wanting to distract him from his work. So instead you saved the photos and vowed to show them to him later when he finally had time.

     In other circumstances, you may have been lonely, but with your earbuds in, you made the most of it. On one hand, you were alone, but on the other, you were in one of the most beautiful places in the world, all expenses paid in full by your superstar best friend who had persuaded you to come by claiming he couldn’t live without you. Life was good and you would be damned if you allowed a little isolationism to rain on your parade.

     The dark grey tropical storm clouds had began to form as you walked home. By the time you got back to the villa, it was pouring rain and the loud rumbling of thunder cracked across the sky.

     Going straight into the back of the villa, you made an effort to run past the pool and reach the safety of the casita. People were still playing guitar and everyone looked up as you ran past.

     Harry put his guitar down quickly, running to catch up to you. You hadn’t noticed his approach so when his arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground you squealed.

     “Harry put me down!” you said, knowing instinctively whose body was pressed against your back.

     “You’re all wet love!” he laughed, the sounds melding with the giggles coming from his friends who were watching the two of you in amusement.

     “We’re in the rain!” you screamed as he set you down, “and now you’re all wet too!”

     You turned to look at Harry and he shrugged, “water doesn’t bother me.”

     “Yeah I know, but I’m bothered.” you stated, running to the safety of your casita. He stood in the rain and watched you, “now you have to go change!” you called.

     He shrugged, sporting a massive grin on his face. You sighed, laughing at his carefree antics. Once again you watched him head back to the main house.

     It wasn’t even dinner time when there was a knock at your door. You stood to get it and Harry was standing there, looking a little worse for wear. It was still storming outside and the mere run from the main house to the casita had obviously taken a toll on the windswept rockstar.

     He had a bunch of food on a plate in his hands that he set down on the coffee table after you’d let him in. “done for the day.” he explained, “thought we’d have a movie night or something.”

     You agreed immediately, more than ready to finally get some time with your best friend. After choosing a tv series to start together, you ate and laughed and had a generally great time, which wasn’t surprising, you always enjoyed yourself with Harry.

     It was getting late when you turned the tv off, wanting to talk instead of watch. The way Harry turned his entire body to look at you, giving you his complete and undivided attention, was always something you’d appreciated about him.

     Getting a chance to show him all the cool things you’d seen in town on your phone, Harry vowed to find time the next day to go with you, needing a change of scenery already to help get his ‘creative juices flowing.’

     He was in the middle of a sentence when you yawned, Harry immediately stopped, “so I’m boring you then?” he teased.

     You grinned, stretching your arms over your head as you groaned, “definitely.”

     His fingers were tickling your sides before you could even blink as his large body pinned you down against the couch to stop you from thrashing and accidentally kicking him. You squealed loudly, eyes clenching as you tried to get him off of you but he was unrelenting.

     “Have you had enough?!” he asked.

     “Yes!”

     “Am I still boring you?!”

     “No!”

     “Not very convincing.” he tutted.

     “Harry!” you screamed.

     He finally pulled away, getting off of you to go back to his corner of the couch.

     You were breathing heavily as you wiped the tears from you eyes, “you’re such a dick.”

     “Do you want more tickles?” he asked in shock.

     “No!” you said, kicking your legs out to act as a barrier so he couldn’t get to you again, “no more tickles.”

     He watched you in silence as you caught your breath. All that could be heard was the sound of the storm outside.

     “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, breaking the silence.

     You looked at him with curiosity before saying, “yeah, of course.”

     “Couldn’t sleep last night.” he said, reminding you of your conversation from the morning.

     When you had been younger and you’d had sleepovers, you had always slept in separate beds but whenever one of you couldn’t sleep, you’d wiggled your way into the others bed and that always seemed to solve the problem. You hoped, for the sake of his efficiency, that staying with you would get him some well deserved shut eye, he needed to be top of his game to make the new album.

     “And it’s raining pretty hard.” you pointed out, not wanting him to go out in the terrible weather yet again.

     Harry turned to look out the window and you admired his side profile for a moment before his green eyes came back to yours, “want to sleep now?” he asked.

     “Sure.” you smiled, standing from the couch.  

     He followed you into the bedroom and watched you grab your sleeping clothes. You went to the bathroom and he waited for you to change. When you were done, you opened the door and began to brush your teeth. He leaned in the doorway and watched you.

     “What?” you asked, mouth full of sudsy toothpaste.

      “We haven’t done this in a while.” he pointed out.

     You shrugged, rinsing out your mouth, “shit happens.”

     “Missed it.”

     “Me too.”

     He offered you a small smile and you passed him the tooth brush automatically. You hadn’t had a sleepover in a ages, but old habits die hard, and it felt natural to offer the unprepared boy your toothbrush.

     You moved out of his way and he brushed his teeth, now it was your turn to watch. He had grown a lot since you were kids, obviously. He was taller, broader and his skin was littered with beautiful black marks that each had their own quirky story. But he was still your Harry.

     He finished up and the two of you walked back into the bedroom. He began to take his shirt off then stopped, “you’re okay if I-”

     “Yeah, just as long as you’re not fully naked.” you waved your hand, getting onto your side of the bed.

     Harry opened his mouth to say something cheeky back but you yawned again and his words caught in his throat, watching the way your shirt pulled up slightly, exposing just the smallest sliver of tummy.

     He looked away, pulling his shirt off and wriggling out of his pants. He got into the bed quickly, hiding the effect you were having on him with the blanket. You turned off the light and Harry turned, lying on his side facing you, “remember when I used to sing to you during thunderstorms?” he asked.

     You turned to face him as well, not being able to help the smile that came to your face, “yeah. You always did it cuz you thought I was scared but I think you just liked singing to me, even then.”

     Harry smiled, just able to make out your soft features in the low light, “always love singing to ya, why do you think I make you come to almost every concert?”

     It was a pretty great perk, front row tickets to every show you could make it to. He’d even taken you on the first leg of his solo tour before you had to go back home for work.

     “I figured you invited me so you could point me out to everyone as your best friend and make all the girls in the audience even softer for you.” you teased, “great way to get into any lady’s pants.”

     Harry scoffed, rolling onto his back so he could run his fingers through your hair, “you and your smart mouth.”

     “You love me.” you said, repeating his own words from the morning.

     Harry said nothing and after a few minutes, you assumed he had fallen asleep. Harry had a knack for falling asleep, which is why it was so aggravating to him when he had nights where rest was difficult.

     You fell into a peaceful sleep not long after.

     The morning sunshine woke you up for a second day in a row and you stretched your arms over your head only to hit something solid.

     Harry groaned, moving your arm out of his face, “ow.” he said, voice low.

     You realized you were curled up against his chest and when you raised your hands to stretch, you had completely smacked him in the face.

     His arms tightened around you, keeping you close, Harry still not ready to wake up yet.

     You allowed him to keep you secure, finger tracing over one of his birds under his collar bone, enjoying the warmth radiating off his body.

     It felt natural to be this close. But there was a feeling underneath the comfort, something that you’d been trying to ignore for years. You two were best friends, but damn, you’d have to be blind to say you didn’t find Harry attractive and even then, you were sure his voice alone could woo a girl into taking her panties off. But you had always pushed it aside, convinced nothing would ever happen.

     You two were so comfortable with each other that you put on face masks and watched rom coms for god's sake! Harry only saw you as a friend, and you were sure of that. Or at least, part of you was.

     But things had been changing. You remembered the way he’d reacted with the first tabloid that wrote that you and him were an item, with pictures of you leaving his place in the morning acting as ‘proof.’

     He had been very nonchalant about it. You were the one who began to pull away. You knew that, but it had been hard for you to stay at that level with him without getting deeper into the feelings that you knew had always been there.

     And here you were, wrapped in his arms again for the first time in years. And it brought everything flooding back.

     Everything you’d been so desperate to keep locked and hidden.

     Harry could feel you stiffen in his arms, “you okay love?” he asked, looking down at you with sleepy eyes.

     You nodded, “yeah, I just, uh, this isn’t comfy.” you lied.

     “Here.” he said, easily pushing you around so your back was to his chest, his arms pulling you back so he could spoon you, “better?”

     You sighed. Both positions had been perfect.

     “Yeah.” you answered.

     You could feel his breath delicately teasing your shoulders and the back of your neck, setting your entire body on fire with each exhale. One breath made you shiver and Harry’s grip on your hips tightened, his eyes flashing over, “don’t move.” he stated, suddenly sounding very commanding as opposed to the sleepy, cuddly guy he had been moments earlier.

     “What do you-” you began to ask, but then you felt it. The unmistakable press of something long, and hard, against your ass.

     Your breath caught in your throat and once more, you tensed under his hands.

     “Fuck.” Harry cursed, pulling away from you and sliding his legs out of the bed. He sat there for a moment, grabbing his pants that he then haphazardly pulled on, “m’ sorry.” he mumbled before racing from the room, not even bothering to grab his shirt on the way out.

     You laid there in a stunned silence for a while. Lots of guys got morning wood. It had its own name didn’t it? ‘Morning wood.’ You thought about it for a few minutes, feeling conflicted about the whole situation.

     The ‘vacation’ was planned for at least two weeks, with the option of a one week extension if necessary, and you were on day three. Even if you wanted to talk to Harry about the whole thing, it was so early into the trip and if you were just making shit up, or if he didn’t feel the same way… then it would be an awkward remainder of the trip.

     You cussed, burying your face in the pillow that still smelt like him.

---

     You didn’t see Harry again until lunch time, hoping to sneak into the main house and grab some food while the musicians were all working, but as you entered the kitchen you almost bumped into Harry, who had been reaching for something from a shelf and turned abruptly.

     “Hey.” he said, looking down at you.

     “Hey.” you retorted, hating yourself immensely.

     “Hungry?” he asked, holding up the protein powder he’d gotten off the shelf.

     “Think I’m just going to grab some fruit then I’m heading down to the beach.” you answered, stepping away from him to grab something from the fruit bowl.

     “Right, uh… well, be careful.” he said, “and uh, have fun yeah?”

     You nodded, grabbing your food and leaving, feeling the heat in your skin. You cursed yourself the entire walk to the casita and then the entire walk down to the beach, you had just made it awkward even though you told yourself you wouldn’t.

     The day at the beach was nice. You walked into town again, when you got bored you got dinner from a small hole in the wall restaurant enjoying some small chat with the nice women who worked there.

     Taking your time and enjoying yourself, you finally began to walk home, having successfully avoided Harry for practically the full day. You even managed to sneak past the group who was still working and slip into the Casita without seeing him.

     It was dark when you finally got a text from him, ‘where are you?’

     ‘In the casita.’

     Within moments there was a knock at the door and you sighed, standing and opening it to see a very worried looking Harry, “where have you been all day?” he asked, shoulders tense.

     “I told you I went to the beach, and then I went to town and got dinner-”

     “Shoulda messaged, I was worried.” he said.

     “Well you could have messaged me.” you pointed out.

     Harry sighed, running a hand through his mess of dark curls, “can I uh, can I come in?”

     You moved the door wider for him and he slipped past you, walking straight to the ping pong table he picked up a paddle, “wanna play a game?” he asked.

     “Sure.” you said, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

     You picked up a paddle and Harry grabbed the ball, tossing it in his hands a few times, “so here’s the deal.” he stated, “every time you miss the ball, I get to ask you a question and you have to answer honestly, or... you strip.”

     You scoffed at him before you realized he was being serious, “Harry-”

     Before you could finish, he had smacked the ball towards you and you missed it, “your choice love.”

     You sighed, really not wanting to start the game off with a truth. You had no idea what sort of uncomfortable question he would as you, noticing the very odd look in his eye that you had never seen before.

     You slipped off a sock, holding it up for him, “happy?”

     “Just hit the ball, pet.” he instructed, eyes looking determined and ready.

     You volleyed and he countered, you managed to hit it back only for him to wack it at you again, this time you missed. You took off another sock.

     This continued until you had removed both socks, your necklace, and your hair tie. Finally, you had to take something else off and it would actually begin to matter.

     Harry eyed you as you stared at the ball that he had just smashed past you. Reaching for the hem of your shirt you pulled it off, thankful that you were wearing a cute bra underneath.

     “Why are you so good at this?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

     It was no secret that Harry adored ping pong.

     You had no clue why you’d agreed to this game.

     Harry didn’t say anything, eyes fixed on you as you smashed the ball towards him, for the first time, he missed it, eyes having been more pleasantly engaged with the beautiful details of your bra.

     “Fuck.” he cursed.

     Harry began to unbutton his shirt and you watched as he took it off, throwing it onto the couch. With his entire chest exposed, he looked angelic, and you would have bet that your already shit ping pong abilities, had just gotten ten times worse.

     He picked up the ball, sending it your way and you tried to counter it but failed.

     Again, he didn’t say anything. No teasing quip about having to make a choice between your pants or a truth, no cheeky grin, just an unreadable gaze that stayed fixed on you as you pushed down your pants.

     He’d seen you in a bikini before, but there was something more intimate about the bra and panties adorning your skin. You felt very exposed for the first time, an uncomfortable feeling washing over you.

     “Harry-”

     “Hit the ball.”

     You sighed, making a feeble attempt, the ball hit the net, not even going to Harry’s side.

     “Try again.” he encouraged, finally giving you a glimmer of the best friend you knew and loved.

     You grabbed the ball and served again, he hit it back but this time he didn’t fire it quite so hard and you wondered if he was giving you a chance on purpose. The back and forth continued for a little while and it solidified the idea that he was suddenly going easy on you, his strokes lacking the usual power that would have had all your clothes gone by this point.

     He finally seemed to get tired of it and smashed the ball at you again, you missed it and Harry set down his paddle, crossing his beautifully tattooed arms over his chest.

     “What are you doing?” you asked.

     “Gonna ask you a truth now, unless you fancy taking off that cute little bra fo’ me.” although his words may have been teasing, his stone cold gaze was not.

     You gave in, also putting down your paddle, “What do you want to know?”

     “Do you ever want to be more than friends?” he asked, “like, would ya ever consider datin’ me?”

     You were taken aback by his question. Not that you hadn’t been worried it would be asked. You weren’t sure what you had been worried about but the anxious feeling of something creeping up your spine was proof that your anxiety had not been unmerited.

     “I uh…” you bit at your lip, “Harry I don’t want to ruin our friendship-”

     “Who says you’ll be ruinin’ it?”

     You scoffed, feeling tears in your eyes, not sure how they got there, “you’re Harry fucking Styles, come on, you have your pick of super models and singers and actresses-”

     “So?”

     “So I can’t afford to think that way Harry!” you almost screamed, hands balling at your sides, “I don’t get you! You bring me around to all this shit and I hear about your flings and I’m there for you when stuff doesn't work out with these girls and I keep myself at a distance and you invite me here where I feel like a complete outsider because everyone is doing something to help you write your new album and I’m not-”

     “Who says you’re not helping?” he asked, coming around the ping pong table to approach you, hands outstretched and searching for your own in an effort to calm you down,

     You allowed him to grab your hands, his thumbs stroking your palms that he faced upwards, something that always had a soothing effect on you.

     “Harry of course I’m not helping-”

     “Wrote a song about you today.” he interrupted you.

     You rolled your eyes, “great, what's it called? Friend zone? The story of a girl who was never good enough? My dumb best friend-”

     “Stop that.” Harry snapped sternly, eyes piercing and full of intensity, “who ever said you’re not good enough?”

     “The magazines-” you began, thinking about those articles who had always skimmed over you, the articles who made it seem like your only importance in life is how you related to the famous Harry Styles. The magazines who would gush about any other woman Harry was ever seen with, any girl but you, besides the initial magazine cover where they’d described you as ‘an unknown girl’ not ‘unnamed raven-haired beauty’ or ‘unknown gorgeous bombshell’ as they’d described his other flings in the past.

     “What about the magazines love?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed with concern, hands continuing to try to relax you.

     “They always-” you stammered, “they just… they said I was a nobody, they never even-”

     “I made it clear from the start that the magazines weren’t supposed to write about ya pet.” Harry said, “I made that clear so you wouldn’t have to worry bout this shit but here you are worrying again.”

     You looked up at him.

     Once again, he’d done something and put a lot of thought into it to protect you, and once again you were reacting to it all wrong. Just like with him giving you the casita to stay in.

     You sighed, “fuck! I’m so confused!”

     “Never wanted you to have pressure, never wanted it to come between our friendship-” Harry began again.

     “Friendship.” you repeated his words back to him as you took your hands away from his, “friendship, Harry.”

     “Yes it’s a bloody fucking friendship!” Harry finally snapped, throwing his hands in the air, “because I’ve never had the fucking guts to tell ya how I feel about ya! Never had the guts to do this-” he grabbed your face, pressing his lips to yours.

     You were shocked for a moment before you melted into the kiss, hands bunching against the waistband of his pants as he pulled you closer. His tongue slid against your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him, longing for him to deepen the kiss.

     But he didn’t, instead he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. His thumbs rubbed at your cheeks, “you gonna answer my question or what love?”

     “What was the question?” you asked, still in a daze.

     “Do you wanna be more than friends?”

     “God yes.” you breathed. The words had no sooner left your mouth than his lips were on yours again, finally deepening the kiss as one of his hands pulled away from your face, going to wrap around your body and press against the small of your back, keeping you as close to him as possible.

     It was a blessing that you both had already taken off some of your clothes, skin pressing against skin and sending warmth radiating through your body.

     Harry bent down, hands both moving to your ass as he lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom, closing the door behind you with his foot.

     He placed you gently onto the bed, getting in top of you as you tried to push down his pants. Harry grinned against your lips and you giggled, causing you both to laugh.

     “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” you said.

    ��“Took us long enough wouldn’t you agree?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your lips.

     Instead of answering, you focused on getting his pants down, finally succeeding you realized he had not been wearing underwear and your laugh ran through the room, “of fucking course you’re not wearing anything under these!” you teased, pulling at his pants and letting them smack down against his skin again, “what were you going to do if I got another ball past you?”

     This guy had challenged you to strip ping pong while wearing only a shirt and pants. You wanted to roll your eyes at it and hate the cockiness that radiated off of him as he answered “knew I’d win, love” but the confidence in his voice made your stomach feel fluttery.

     “Cuz I’m bad or cuz you’re a ping pong master?” you asked, moaning slightly as his lips moved down to your neck, finding your sweet spot faster than you could even think.

     “Bit a’ both.” he answered.

     You laughed, pushing at his chest, “take it back!”

     “Make me.” he said, biting at your collarbone.

     You groaned, fingers tangling in his beautiful curls and pulling him back up so his lips were on yours again.

     He ground down against you and a deep moan vibrated from his chest from the feeling of his bare cock against the thin fabric of your already damp panties.

     “Condom-” you began but he was already ahead of you, reaching into the back pocket of the jeans that were haphazardly stuck just above his knees.

     “Take your panties off.” he instructed, rolling of of you and onto his back so he could wiggle out of the confines of his pants.

     You quickly got rid of the fabric that had been keeping him from being inside of you and Harry rolled on the condom, “bra too, love.” he reminded you.

     Rolling your eyes you unhooked your bra tossing it across the room as he once more settled between your legs, “did you just roll your eyes at me?” he grinned.

     “Wouldn’t be the first time Styles.” you answered.

     His hand came to grab at your jaw and his gaze darkened, your laughter stopped, eyes searching his as he looked down at you in a predatory manner, “gonna apologize or what, pet?”

     You would have laughed in any other situation but you’d never seen Harry serious like this. The other morning when he’d suggested you call him ‘daddy’ or ‘sir’ it had been light hearted, but looking into his eyes now, you realized that it had come from a place inside him that was decidedly not light of fluffy in the slightest.

     “I’m uh… I’m sorry?” you said, trying to give him what he was asking for, but not quite sure how to do it, still a little shocked that you were seeing a new side of him that he’d only ever hinted at existing.

     Harry stared at you for a moment then chuckled, letting go of your chin as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, “fuck, sorry, I’m uh, I’m just used to uh…”

     “Being the dom.” you finished for him.

     “Yeah. You into that sort of thing?” his hand reached between your bodies, grabbing his dick so he could brush it against you, teasing you as you waited with anticipation.

     “I could be but I mean, it’s something we’d have to talk about.” you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the familiar scent of your best friend that you were so accustomed too.

     “A chat for another time then?”

     “Hmm.” you hummed, “but I meant it earlier, no daddy or sir.”

     “Like I said earlier,” he slid inside of you and you both groaned loudly, “never say never love.”

     His lips attacked yours again as he kept still inside of you, allowing you to adjust to his size. When your fingernails dug into his shoulders he took that as a sign to move, pulling almost all the way out slowly, before pushing back in with a harsh snap of his hips.

     You moaned into his mouth and Harry ate it up, grinning, “sound so pretty fo’ me.”

      A smile spread across your face again as you opened your eyes, looking up at the guy you’d loved for years. The guy who’d been with you through thick and thin. The guy who held your hand during scary films or cried with you when a dog died in a movie. The guy who had picked you up more times than you could count, dusting you off and giving you a little pat on the back with a word of encouragement.

     Your chest felt tight, heart swelling with emotion.

     “You okay?” Harry asked with concern, stopping his motions as he stared down at you.

     “Yeah just… uh… just ignore me.” you laughed, pulling his lips back to yours, “I’m just really happy.”

     Harry grinned and it was the biggest smile you’d ever seen, his already gorgeous features somehow reached an angelic level, which was saying something. “Me too.” he said, pressing soft kisses all over your face as his motions picked up again.

     You tried to focus on how good he was making you feel but there was just something about the fluttering in your chest that was making the whole thing almost comical and Harry could tell, laughing slightly again, “you know, this whole giggling thing isn’t doin’ much for my ego pet.” he warned you.

     “Ignore me.” you told him.

      “Could never do that.” he assured you, “think the problem is that this is too soft for you.”

     You almost laughed again, “soft is good though.”

     “Soft is great.” he agreed, “but rough is somethin’ else entirely.” he nipped at your jaw, waiting for your reaction.

     Finally you gave in, thinking ‘what the hell’ you were past the point of no return regardless.

     “I guess if it’s your speciality-” you began but you were never able to finish your thought because he had pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and maneuvering your ass up as he slammed into you from behind.

     This was not something you could laugh about.

     In the new angle, Harry was hitting a spot inside of you that made your toes curl, mind unable to form words. The most you could do was grab onto the bed sheets and hope you weren’t loud enough for people from the main house to hear you.

     Harry’s grip on your waist was unrelenting and the sound of skin slapping skin and moans filled the room.

     Now that you didn’t have to look at your best friend, there wasn’t much to giggle about, especially with him pounding into you like his life depended on it.

     You’d always heard hype about Harry in bed but being in the heat of it was, first, something you’d never in a million years expected to be, and second, a complete mind fuck because you’d heard he was amazing, hell, you’d heard he was a god, but even then, the word seemed to be lacking.

     The small groans leaving his lips were music to your ears, having always adored his voice, this was a whole new ball field and you had to admit, you loved it.

     His hand wrapped around the front of your bodies, reaching between your legs to rub against your clit. You moaned louder, feeling an orgasm begin to build tight in your stomach.

     Another low groan left Harry’s lips as you clenched around him, his eyes closed for a moment, allowing his head to loll back and just enjoy the moment. But he couldn’t keep his gaze off of you for too long, once more focusing on your gorgeous back and the way your bum looked with each thrust.

     His hand ached to give you a little smack.

     Just a little one.

     He’d tapped your ass once or twice before but it had always resulted in giggles and chasing, it had always been friendly, not meaning to bring pain as well as pleasure.

     His grip tightened on your waist as he contemplated it for a moment, finally deciding it was not the time. You could discuss choking and spanking and all the ‘good stuff’ another day, but for now, he wanted to see you.

     Harry wanted to enjoy the face he’d grown so used to seeing. The face that grinned at him whenever he got nervous on stage or offered a small smile when he was getting worried about being late or having big meetings. The face that he’d woken up to that morning and felt a devastatingly deep urge to kiss.

     He pulled out of you and you began to protest when he flipped you over again, you landed on your back and Harry immediately slipped into you again, grabbing one of your legs to put over his shoulder.

     Just like the first position change, the new angle had him going even deeper and you wondered for a moment what another new position would bring, but before you could think too hard about it, the feeling of him in your lower abdomen made everything else disappear.

     He pressed a kiss to your knee where it was hooked over his shoulder, one hand on your thigh to keep you there.

     With your eyes closed, enjoying the sensations, Harry thought you looked ethereal.

     He’d had many dream about this moment. Many hours had been dedicated to wondering what this would be like if it ever happened but Harry’s imagination seemed to be quite lacking, the image he’d had in his mind paled in comparison to reality.

     He swallowed thickly, overcome by a sudden surge of emotion as he watched you get closer and closer to the edge because of him.

     “Harry-” you said, reaching out your hands, eyes still closed as you searched for him.

     He took your leg off of his shoulder and repositioned himself in missionary, letting out a groan as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his lips to yours.

     You squeezed around him again and Harry bit on your lip, eyebrows furrowing as the feeling engulfed him, his movements becoming sporadic as he chased his high.

     The new pattern of thrusts made you cum around him and you gasped, whimpers leaving your mouth. Your pulled at his hair lightly and that small amount of pain mixed deliciously with the way you were fluttering around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

     Lips touching as you both panted, bodies still shaking from your orgasms.

     He kissed you softly, a hand coming up to cup your face.

     You both opened your eyes around the same time, the giddy, giggly feeling returning as you enjoyed finally being this close.

    “Be right back.” he said, kissing your nose before he got off of you and went to the bathroom to discard the condom.

     You got under the covers, opening them for Harry as he entered the room. When you were comfortably settled under the thin, white duvet, he pulled you to his chest.

     Your naked bodies pressed against each other but you fit like puzzle pieces, having always meant to be connected. You cursed yourself for not trying this before, especially since it felt so natural now that you had.

     Your fingers traced the tattoos on his arms, listening to the fast thumping of his heart in his chest.

     “So you wrote a song about me and it wasn’t called friend zone right?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

     Harry chuckled, staring at the ceiling as he ran his fingers through your hair, “thought you’d forgotten about that.”

     “Not a chance. So tell me what it’s about?”

     “Been thinkin’ about it for a while. It’s about being in love with your best friend-”

     “You love me Styles?” you asked, looking up at him.

     Harry looked down, “thought it was obvious.”

     You buried your head in his chest to hide your flushed skin as his arms wrapped protectively around you, “i’ve made a mess of things haven’t I?’ he asked.

     Looking up at him again, you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, “no. I love you too Harry. I always have.”

     “Always?”

     You groaned, “yes always!”

     His dimples showed as he grinned, “we’re both fucking idiots aren't we?”

     “Understatement of the century.” you both just smiled, adoring each other, “hey.... putting me in the Casita didn’t have anything to do with you planning on fucking me sometime this trip did it Harold?”

     “Erm…” his skin turned slightly pink and you smacked his chest lightly, “i mean i thought about it!” Harry admitted, “didn’t think it would actually happen but then the whole thing happened this mornin’ and i’ve been wound up for hours love. When you wore that bikini yesterday? Part of me thought you’d done it on purpose, jus for me.”

     “I had no idea it affected you so much… or I would have worn it sooner.”

     “You’re a fucking minx you know that?” he laughed, “maybe this is why I never told you how I felt before, because you’re such a tease.”

     “You love it.” you insisted.

     Harry sighed, “I love you. Even if you are the biggest fucking tease I’ve ever met.” he paused for a moment, “so on a scale of one to ten with one being ‘it’s not that bad’ and ten being ‘I fucking hate it’ how do you really feel about the word Daddy?”

-------

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[detectivejigsawpines]

The Most Hideous Creatures Known to Man, part 1 (A three-hour tour)

Stan continues to find his calling.  Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with his methods...

Part 5 of the Flipside AU.

It was only a matter of time before Stan’s clientele in the forest (he’d set up in a glen near C-beth’s place as his unofficial barber shop) began expressing curiosity about the human world.

For all the myths and legends about the amount of time they were supposed to spend kidnapping children, seducing adults, casting spells on farmers’ crops and so on, the creatures in Gravity Falls had surprisingly little direct interaction with humans.  Even the gnomes were mostly limited to stealing food from their cupboards or window sills while they were sleeping, except when they were trying to find an offering for their queen (both of the Pineses had made it adequately clear to the little group they found sneaking into their Ford’s house one night that they were not available, thank you anyway).

Stan wasn’t sure if this ignorance was the case for anomalies all over the world or just the ones in this tiny part of it.  But as he cut their hair, cleaned and polished their scales and massaged their shoulders, they began peppering him with questions about what it was like for human people.

“How do you get anywhere without wings?”

“What’s it like not having gills?”

“Where do the magic lights in your houses come from?  Do you have a wizard who controls all of them? You have a lot of them, so he must be ever so powerful.”

“What is the significance of those strange boxes humans hold up to their ears sometimes?  They can stand and talk to them for hours-are they some kind of listening insects, since they have those long antennae attaching them to the bigger boxes?”

He answered their questions as best he could, making educated guesses (or maybe kind-of-sort-of flat-out lying) if he didn’t know the answers...but after a while he realized that it didn’t seem to matter what he told them, as long as he made it sound exciting.  The creatures ate it all up in delight, amazed at the way humans seemed to use this strange kind of magic called SCIENCE to make things happen.

And just like with the idea for how to get unicorn hair for his brother, an idea began to spark in Stan’s brain.

“So, let me get this straight,” Stan said one afternoon as he finished putting curlers in a beard cub’s fur, “None of you have actually seen a human up close besides me?”

“And that brother of yours,” C-beth whinnied, looking up from her copy of Whinny, Pray, Trot.  “And the occasional visitor to my glen, or hikers, or-”

“No no no, I mean, you’ve never seen humans in their natural habitat.”

The little group-unicorns, fairies, beard cubs, even a mermaid sitting in the nearby pool-all looked at him in sudden interest.

Stan grinned.  “What would you say if I offered to give you guys a guided tour?”

Of course, not all the creatures could afford to pay in gold and jewels, like the unicorns.  Those who couldn’t had to pay in other things, like samples: skin samples, hair samples, feather samples, tooth samples, any kind of samples they could spare.  Stan would bring them home for Ford to study, and he’d get dizzy with excitement over how he’d “been wanting to study this thing for ages, thank you Stanley!” and immediately run off to his lab to put it under a microscope or whatever.  It gave Stan a warm feeling in his gut, knowing that he’d given a valuable contribution to his brother’s research, and in the meantime he could use the treasure the unicorns gave him to handle other expenses, like the mortgage and groceries and stuff.

If it wasn’t samples, it was things like mushrooms, which he could then give to the gnomes in exchange for favors, or enchanted items, or whatever else could be used to set up an elaborate and profitable barter system.

It was like nothing Stan had ever imagined for himself, but somehow it all worked like a charm.  And now here was a perfect chance to make an addition to it.

If I tell Ford about this, he’s either gonna love it or hate it.

****

For the moment, Stan decided to keep it a secret from his brother.  At least until he got all the details worked out and stuff.

This required him first finding a map of Gravity Falls, and marking out places that seemed like the best “attractions.”  Then he had to think about how he was actually going to conduct these tours a) without any humans noticing, and b) without letting the group of nosy anomalies wander off and get into trouble, or (in some cases) cause trouble.

It took him the better part of a day to come up with a plan, which turned out to partially involve the, ahem, liberation of a very large golf cart from a nearby Santa’s Village, and a pound of jerky for the manotaurs in exchange for them tracking down the invisible wizard and bringing him to Stan so he could strike a deal with him.  To his major disappointment the wizard refused to give up the potion that turned him invisible, but he did lend Stan something that was in some ways even better: a few bottles of what he called “un-notice powder.” I hope I don’t need to explain its purpose.

Once he had these and a few other things thrown together, he was ready to take the first group on a wild tour of...the Human World!

“And on your left, you’ll see ‘Greasy’s Diner,’ home of the perpetually broken spinning pie trolley!”

“Oooohhhh!”  The various anomalies leaned so far to the side of the cart that Stan was worried they were going to tip them all over, staring goggle-eyed at the restaurant.  To prevent this, Stan hurriedly put the cart in park, and then, remembering what the gnomes were like, he slipped the keys into his jeans pocket.

“Twenty-I mean, two hundred gold pieces or the equivalent in samples to come in and get your picture taken with it!” he proclaimed, rushing over to the door and pushing it open.  He promptly had to jump out of the way to avoid being stampeded by the eager crowd.

Inside the diner, the guests looked up in bewilderment at the door, which appeared to have been pushed open by a sudden freak wind.  Susan Wentworth, the head waitress who worked there (and who was kinda cute, Stan had to admit), rushed over to close it, and Stan barely moved out of her way in time.

The tour group (ten gnomes, thirteen fairies of various sizes and colors, a Moth Man, the invisible wizard-who’d insisted on coming at a reduced price as recompense for his being manhandled and bullied so rudely, and Stan had decided not to argue with a man who could turn him into a frog if he got mad enough-a manotaur, and the mermaid, who the manotaur was carrying in a portable cooler filled with water) stared agape at the inside of the room, before hurrying over and taking turns being photographed in front of the pie trolley.  They also had fun prodding at the humans, swiping bites of food from their plates, and taking pictures of them pretending to squeeze their heads or whatever.

Stan watched the chaos with a smile, and took the opportunity to eat some blueberries off the top of a plate of pancakes belonging to that dumb Gleeful kid.

****

Their next stops were the town hall, the cemetery (where a few Category 2 ghosts tried to sneak on without paying, but were scared off by the silver mirrors Stan had strategically placed on the cart), the library, and the high school, before finally they stopped in front of an electronics store.

“Behold!”  Stan leaped out onto the sidewalk, arms spread wide.  The dramatic gesture was nearly ruined by a few teenagers who nearly walked right into him (because of course, they didn’t notice him), but he managed to dodge out of their path just in time.  “Ladies and gentlemen-I guess that includes most of you-”

The tour group laughed.

“-For today’s final attraction, I give you the most horrifying, dangerous, yet incredibly enticing invention of mankind yet: the Idiot Box!”  He gestured at the display of televisions in the front window, which were plugged in to different channels about news, sports, movies, and so on.

The anomalies gasped, staring at the images darting across the screens in transfixed amazement.  He could practically see their eyes turning into hypnotized spirals like in the movies.

“These fiendish devices control the minds of millions every day, encouraging them to buy things they don’t need, eat foods that aren’t good for them, and become emotionally invested in the lives of fictional characters who they are never gonna meet in real life!”  Stan had no idea where most of his words were coming from, but he was on a roll now, and there was no stopping him. “And all it takes is a little bit of electricity and a good channel-”

“I WANT ONE!”

Stan blinked, startled out of his spiel by the manotaur’s roar.

The beast abruptly hurled himself out of the cart and charged-right.  Through. The window. He smashed several of the televisions in his excitement, but he managed to snatch one up intact, ripping the plug out of the socket and hoisting it over his head triumphantly.

Not even un-notice powder was enough to prevent the people inside the store from noticing the wanton destruction.

Time to go.

****

Fortunately, Stan managed to herd everyone (several of the other creatures had rushed into the store to snatch devices for themselves in all the excitement) back into the cart and take off before the cops showed up.  Even better, the un-notice powder didn’t completely wear off until they were back in the forest, so even if the townsfolk noticed them fleeing the scene, it wouldn’t have been anything too distinct. Probably.

Stan gladly accepted a few extra tips from the happy group as they left the carts, hurrying off into the forest and chattering excitedly to each other about all the things they’d seen.

“See ya later, everyone!  Tell your friends! And remember, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds!’”

Huh; I like the sound of that.  Gonna haveta remember it for next time.

Grinning to himself, Stan finished putting everything in the large treasure chest he’d brought to collect everyone’s payments, locked it, and then drove back towards home, feeling that on the whole this had been a pretty good day.

It was just his luck, however, that Ford would be standing in the driveway as he came up, hands on his hips and wearing his “there had better be an amazing explanation for this” expression.

The cart came to a slow stop, and Stan gave his brother a weak smile.

“...Hey, Sixer.  I got you more samples.”

[you-guys--are-losers]

Your version of the upside down Spidey kiss? :)

//Ooh, yes! I know that I have gotten multiple requests for this prompt, so excited to finally write it! 

By the way, if anyone knows who originally created the art below, please let me know! I can’t seem to find who it is and I want to give credit. ;) 

A Bit Tangled Up

Summary: When the opportunity presents itself, MJ decides to try her hand at the classic “Spider-Man” kiss. 

Warnings: Language, Second-Hand Embarrassment ;) 

Word Count: 3,281

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

“Did you know that there’s a species of ant named after Manhattan?” 

MJ’s question reaches Peter’s ear through his headset, and he can practically picture her face as she says it. She’s probably leaning back in her worn desk chair, peering at the laptop that rests on top of her crossed legs. That’s the position he most often finds her in, after all, when he returns to her quiet room in Queens after a night of patrolling. It’s peaceful, really, to know what to expect when he comes back, and the reminder is sort of nice. 

At least, it would be if he weren’t trying to fight off three different amateur thieves at once. 

“Couldn’t have picked a better time, MJ,” Peter responds, his voice slightly flustered as he dodges one poorly-aimed shot, then another.

The man holding the gun appears confused, and his brow furrows beneath the stupid ski-mask he is wearing. “What did you say, asshole?” the man snaps. Though Peter can tell he’s trying to sound gruff, there is an uncertain undertone in his voice. 

Peter glances up to focus on him, pausing in his task of selecting a web from Karen. “I wasn’t talking to you. It’s rude to listen in on other peoples’ conversations, man.” With that, Peter sends a taser web his way, and the man’s body spasms before he drops to the ground. 

“They found it in Manhattan, and they realized that they hadn’t seen the species before.” MJ’s nonchalant voice enters his ear again, causing a mixed wave of amusement and exasperation to wash over Peter. “Guess what they named it?” 

“Um…” Peter’s mind scrambles to try to figure it out as he continues in his task. 

One of the other men makes a grab for the fallen gun, which Peter easily webs into his own hand. “Hey, man, really? Taking someone else’s toys isn’t cool.” Peter takes the opportunity to web the man to the ground.

MJ’s voice resumes in Peter’s headset. “Don’t want to alarm you or anything, but there’s a stacked guy like three times your height with a meat cleaver on your left.” 

Now, it’s Karen who is speaking in Peter’s ear. “Activate Trochanter Protocol?” 

“Go for it. Thanks, Karen,” Peter pants. As he turns, four sets of massive, iron legs erupt from the suit, smacking away the attacker with so much force that the man is flung across the alleyway. “The Big Ant-ple?”

“Come on, Bug Boy, I’m disappointed in you.” 

“It’s not exactly the best time,” Peter points out as he turns to face his fallen foe. 

“How do you expect to handle decathlon if you can’t perform under pressure?” He can hear a hint of amusement in her voice now, and Peter grins as the guy pulls out a knife and charges him. 

“I think I’ll manage,” he responds, raising an eyebrow. Peter raises the legs threateningly, but he makes no move to charge the thug. Instead, he allows his attacker to come to him. When the man is inches away, Peter reacts with lightning-fast reflexes. He grabs the knife between two fingers, using his super-strength to stop the blade in its tracks. 

Peter watches as the man, who is still holding the blade, blanches behind the ski mask. “Hey, man, have you ever stuck a fork in an outlet?” Peter questions. 

The thug’s eyes widen, but that’s all the warning Karen needs. An electrical charge leaves the fingertips of Peter’s suit, traveling through the blade and then to Peter’s attacker, flowing through his body. Peter allows the charge to flow through his body for a few seconds before letting go. The man falls to the ground, and the blade clatters to the pavement. 

 “I haven’t, no, but I did make a sculpture involving a fork and a toaster to illustrate the delicate balance between genius and insanity. Does that count?” Peter might be imagining it, but he could swear that MJ’s voice is slightly more relaxed now that he is out of danger. 

“I mean, your brain isn’t fried,” Peter reasons, “so I don’t think so. But I appreciate the effort.” 

Now that the three are down, there isn’t such a dire need for speed. However, Peter does want to be out of here before the authorities arrive, so he is swift in webbing the cleaver and the gun to the wall. 

Once he has finished, Peter leaps into the air, attaching his web to the antenna on top of one of the buildings nearby. Once he has shot up into the air, it is easy swinging, and Peter begins to take the familiar route to MJ’s room. 

“ManhattAnt.” 

Peter furrows his brow against the cold as he swings into the quiet of MJ’s street. “What did you just say?” 

“ManhattAnt. What they named the species of ant.” 

A snort escapes Peter as he spots her apartment building. “You’re kidding,” he responds as he lands on the roof of the shorter building next to hers. The gravel shifts slightly beneath his feet, but he stays completely steady as he spots her window, which is eye level with him. Peter shoots a thin stream of web towards her window, nowhere near strong enough to carry him. It is just enough for a little “thunk” to be heard. 

There is a rustling of lavender curtains, and a moment later, the window opens. MJ slides the glass pane all the way up, raising an eyebrow. Peter can’t keep his heart from skipping a beat when he sees her. Her messy curls are pulled up into a loose bun, and she’s wearing those glasses with the thick black rims that Peter secretly loves. 

“Do you really think I would joke about something this serious, Parker?” MJ prods, raising an eyebrow. “Come on in. I’ve got your glass of bug spray waiting for you.” 

MJ moves away from the window, making it easy for Peter to make the quick leap onto her building and to slide in through the window. From there, Peter drops onto her floor and slides the window shut before turning to face her room. 

As much as Peter loves coming back to his house, he thinks that MJ’s might be his favorite place to be after patrol. The soft, comforting gray of her walls paired with her gentle salt lamps and the abundance of activist posters, sweet-smelling teas, and comfortable places to sit make her room the perfect contrast to the overstimulating city he spends his nights defending. 

It’s not often that he comes here. Normally, she joins Ned in Peter’s room, but Ned had to go on a family trip tonight, so here they are. Peter is perfectly alright with that… In fact, maybe a little bit too alright. He’s been trying to keep the thought out of his mind, but lately, when he’s found out he’s going to be spending time alone with MJ, Peter hasn’t felt the least upset. 

In fact, Peter might look forward to spending alone time with his other best friend a little bit too much. 

MJ has seated herself in her spinning chair again, though her laptop rests on her bed now as she turns to face him. The chair is still spinning slightly, and one of her legs, clad in Ravenclaw sweatpants, dangles loose. Peter can see a pair of fuzzy socks poking out from under the pants, and for some reason, a twinge of fondness enters him. 

“It’s lavender tonight,” she hums, gesturing to a mug perched on the edge of her desk beside a plate of pumpkin bread. She’s holding a mug of what Peter can tell is the same tea. 

The warm ceramic feels good in Peter’s hand, even through the suit. Peter lifts up the bottom of his mask in order to sip it, and he lets out a hum as the warm liquid washes down his parched throat. “Is anyone home?” he asks, curious about how soon he has to leave. 

“Not tonight,” MJ replies. “Mom took Sonny to see a movie for his birthday, so- did you just drink that whole thing?” 

Peter’s mechanical white eyes widen over the now-empty mug, and he offers a sheepish shrug as he sets down the burgundy mug. “It was good,” he defends. “Sweet.” 

“That’s because I put a shit-ton of honey in it, loser,” she retorts as he moves on to the pumpkin bread, scarfing it down nearly as fast. “You know, that’s only supposed to work on flies. Not spiders.” 

“Sugar is sugar,” Peter replies through the last bit of pumpkin bread, setting down the plate. 

“And you take your tea like juice,” MJ responds, settling back in her seat. She takes another sit before adding, “I think you finished that in under a minute.” 

“Thanks, MJ,” Peter responds, pulling his mask back down. “Seriously. I know you don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Please, Parker. I’d much rather sit on the headset than actually do my homework. We both know that I live to watch Flash’s face when I finish it in ten minutes.” 

“You know, one of these days he’s going to figure out that you just memorize the answers that you write out beforehand,” Peter points out, reclining against the wall.

“But it’s so much more fun to let him think I’m a robot,” MJ replies, arching an eyebrow. She sets her half-full mug on her desk, then, peering at him. “So was it a good night, then? All in all? Or did having my genius on the other side of the headset distract you?”

Under her gaze, Peter’s skin seems to crawl beneath the suit. He takes a breath then, glancing towards the window. Suddenly, Peter is in possession of more nervous energy than he knows what to do with, and he needs to move or be consumed on it. Peter turns to her wall, allowing his fingers to stick to it, then unstick. 

“Yeah,” he says, trying for nonchalance. “I mean, I got the bad guys, you know? All in a day’s work.” Peter sticks his fingers to the wall again, beginning to climb effortlessly. At least, this way, his back is turned towards her. And besides, he’s done this sort of thing with her and with Ned before while hanging out. It isn’t that weird. 

MJ lets out an amused puff of air, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not good at that part, Parker.” 

By then, Peter has reached the ceiling of her room, where he is suspended by his fingers and the tips of his toes. Peter peers at her, upside down, and his white eyes on the mask widen conspicuously. “I- What?” Peter stammers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

MJ leans back in the chair, peering at him over the rims of the glasses he likes so much. “That part of superhero-ing,” MJ hums, arching an eyebrow as amusement creeps into her tone. “The part where you have to act all cool and humble and pretend you don’t care.” 

“Pfft, I… What?” Peter’s voice rises to the point of almost cracking near the end of the statement, and he allows a thin stream of web to attach him to her ceiling so that he can slowly lower himself, suspended. “I don’t– What are you talking about? I don’t do that-” 

“You do, Parker, and you suck at it.” MJ tucks a stray strand of hair away from her face with long, slender fingers, a little motion that succeeds in further erasing every logical thought from Peter’s mind. “It’s alright, though.” 

Peter lets out a sharp breath, struggling to control his mess of flustered emotions. Just when he thinks he might have himself at a manageable level of stupidity, though, she says the one thing that could possibly take him right back to square one. 

“It’s pretty cute.” 

Everything that follows happens so fast. Peter has lost control over everything– including his webbing. 

The strands suspending him to the ceiling release, sending him falling sharply. In an effort to keep himself from falling, Peter shoots his web back towards the ceiling, but he is falling at an angle. His efforts at securing himself accomplish two things: one, they actually secure him, and two, Peter succeeds in trapping himself in a tangled cocoon of web. 

Maybe this is some sort of twisted karma, Peter reasons as he dangles six feet above MJ’s floor. If this is what every single bad guy he’s webbed feels like, then he understands why they all seem so pissed off. But Peter doesn’t have much time to explore that thought, because at the moment there is only one subject that is pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. 

MJ. 

MJ thinks he’s cute. Or does she? Wait– did she only mean that his attempt at humility was cute, and not the rest of him? Maybe she had been making fun of him, the way that they always did, as a part of their banter. But then why would she say that, of all things? 

And more importantly, why had it had such an effect on him? 

As the thoughts about MJ dance around Peter’s mind, he forgets to think about one terribly, crucially important detail: MJ herself. It is not until the webbing turns him towards the desk chair that Peter realizes his mistake. Because MJ is not curled up at her desk with a computer perched in her lap, sipping at tea. 

Instead, she is standing from her chair with a slight smirk on her lips, and she is taking a step towards him. 

“Um, MJ, I-I…” Peter stammers, sure that his cheeks are the color of his suit beneath the Iron Spider mask. “That was totally intentional. Definitely. And, um, if you could maybe just help me-” 

“You want to come down from your cocoon?” MJ prods, her eyes glimmering with a wicked sort of amusement. “Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself in a tangle. I could just leave you here, you know… I mean, I’ve had weirder things hanging in my room before than a Spiderboy. ” 

Peter winces. “Right. Bug puns. Um…” Peter is having a hard time focusing, however, because even upside-down, his best friend is the prettiest girl he has ever seen. And right now, dangling at eye-level with her, he has no way of looking away from the deep brown eyes that seem to pore into him from behind her glasses lenses. 

She’s his friend, one of his best friends. He can’t be feeling this way about her– what if she doesn’t feel the same? 

“Peter, your heartbeat is reaching an alarming rate,” Karen’s voice says loudly in his ear. “Would you like me to call May Parker and inform her that-” 

“No, don’t do that!” Peter exclaims. The words are frantic, panicked as they tear themselves from his lips. MJ stops in her tracks, eyes widening slightly.  There is confusion in them now, and Peter is even more flustered than he was before. 

“Parker, are you okay?” MJ says slowly. “I was kidding, but if you need me to help you down, I can-” 

“No,” he interrupts immediately, blinking rapidly. “No, it’s not you, I wasn’t talking to… Um…” Words are flitting through his mind too fast to say, creating a buzz that is only more distracting. MJ is frozen now, and she seems just as unsure about what to do as he is.

“Look, MJ, I…” Peter struggles for words, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “I wasn’t expecting you to say… That.”

MJ blinks once, then twice. Then, however, a little smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It’s hesitant, and it’s shy, but it’s unmistakable. “You didn’t expect me to tell you that you were cute.” 

So she did mean it that way, then. She meant that he was cute, and she’d said it to him. And of course Peter had panicked like a dork, and now there was no hope of recovering his pride from this. 

But maybe he can rein it in. Maybe if he says something profound, or smooth, he can get this situation back in his favor… 

“Um… Nope.” 

Getting those two measly words out takes more energy than fighting off all three of the men had. 

MJ’s smirk returns, and she shakes her head slightly. For a moment, there is quiet between them, and then a quiet laugh leaves her. Peter stiffens at the sound, but when it washes over him, his whole body relaxes. One laugh, then another, and then she turns her gaze to the ceiling as if she is searching for words. 

“You are,” she informs him with mirth-filled eyes, “such a…” 

“Loser.” 

Peter doesn’t have to wait to know the proper term. Beneath the mask, a lopsided grin of his own twists his mouth. When he finishes her sentence, those dark, playful eyes come to meet his own, upside down. However, the moment that their eyes meet, something in the mood shifts. 

MJ’s grin fades, and so does Peter’s own. For a moment, Peter forgets the stupidity of the situation he is in. He is too busy being wrapped up in the web that is MJ, in her sharp quips and her wicked smirks and her deep, dark eyes. 

All amusement drains out of MJ’s face as she straightens herself up, blinking at him from across the space that divides them. For a moment, the air between them feels electric, and Peter is frozen in her current. 

Then, MJ takes a step towards him. Another, and another, and Peter is frozen in place, upside down as she increases their proximity. MJ’s feet bring her closer to him, so close that Peter can’t breathe. 

And then, MJ’s face is so close that their foreheads are almost touching. Peter is close enough to count her dark lashes, to study every twist of her thick curls, to memorize the rise and fall of her cupid’s bow. His heart pounds out of control, but now Karen has the good sense to stay quiet.  

A tangled mess of emotions sweeps over Peter: awe, panic, hope, the works. They simmer together and bubble over, pouring out of his lips as a stammered, “MJ, you-” 

“Shh,” MJ hums. Her dark eyes seem to scour the mechanical eyes of the mask, and slowly, her fingers rise to brush against the line of his jaw. Peter doesn’t realize what she is doing until she has lifted the mask, gathering it to just below his nose. Peter draws in a sharp breath as the cool air washes over the lower half of his face. 

MJ’s fingers, soft and cool, brush against the corner of his lips, and a shiver goes down Peter’s spine. This close, MJ smells like lemon and lavender tea, and her soft, cooling touch is enough to send his skin tingling. His lips part slightly to speak, though Peter is not sure what he plans to say. 

A long, slender finger comes to rest on Peter’s lips. MJ raises an eyebrow at him through the mask, her eyes meeting his own. “Shut up, loser,” she breathes, and then her eyes flutter shut. Before Peter can disobey her, MJ closes the distance, bringing her lips to rest atop his own. 

MJ’s hands rise to cradle his face, and she arches her back as their lips move together. Peter is not sure how long they remain their, lips moving, exploring in the quiet of MJ’s room. 

All he knows is that MJ tastes like honey, and now Peter understands why a creature would be willing to take its last breath in hope of just one taste. 

[prkrnichols]

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“He said something about an upcoming exam…”

“Music theory? When has Parker ever had to study for a music theory exam before?”

“I’m not getting into it David… you’ll have to go and— Brenden! Brenden! I saw that…”

Whatever his middle-son had just done or was still doing had little affect on stopping David’s movement, as he walked into his ex-wife’s new house and made his way upstairs to where he assumed the bedrooms would most likely be. It annoyed him that he was in a position to look stupid as he tapped on various doors and questioned if his son was currently behind one of them. So, by the time a door did open up, David didn’t actually mind that the occupant wasn’t Parker. He knew the girl anyway. Tahnee… used to babysit his boys, and even if David hadn’t exactly interacted with her outside of slipping his wife an extra fifty to tip her for her good work… he smiled. “Hi Tahnee… it looks like you’re on the mend…” He’d heard about the accident through Sarah. A conversation that had made him send a text (something he loathed) to the son he was still currently in search of, where he expressed in quite a lengthy paragraph that the news had rattled him. And it had. It was just, after the last weekend the two had spent together, maybe he could forgive Parker for not responding to it. Just a misunderstanding though, because even if he had lost his temper a few weeks earlier with the brunette, it wasn’t the same thing and of course he’d have cared if Parker had been the one to get hurt. “I’m after Parker—” He watched as the blonde pointed down the hall— just a room down from her own, “ah, thank you.” With a smile, he turned, finishing off the short walk between her bedroom and his son’s before raising his fist to the door and lightly knocking, “Parker…” No reply. He twisted the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, as he pushed forward and walked inside.

The room was messy and it irked him. He’d told his son before that no one respected a sloth and yet… he shifted around the piles of clothes as he walked over to Parker sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet clipping in and out of his snowboard bindings. So, it was the silent-treatment today, was it? He sighed, moving around till he could sit down on the bed beside him, “new board?” He watched as Parker shrugged and slid his boots out of the bindings again- click. “Your mom said you don’t want to go—” Another shrug, but at least time words followed, as Parker told him that he had some test— and bullshit. But he’d play along, “she mentioned that too…” he really didn’t care though. “I took the time off work, because I thought a week away— just us… and your brothers was what you wanted. No school, no homework, no piano…” he watched as Parker’s had twisted, disbelief on his face— “really?” David nodded. Where were they going to find the time to play the piano when they’d be snowboarding as much as they were planning to? “Well, you can try and pack your baby-grand, but it might look a little weird to the Swiss if you try and check that in into your hotel room—” he smiled, hand coming up to grab Parker’s neck affectionately, as his son joined in and let out a soft laugh, “come on Parker. You’re not going to leave me alone with Brenden all week long right…”

“well now that you mention it...” Parker let out another laugh, as his father’s grip tightened and he playfully pushed him back down on the bed, before standing up and telling him to get his stuff together or they’d end up missing their flight. Fortunately, for Parker he was actually already packed... the decision to not go only being a fairly recent one, “yeah... I’ll be down soon.” He watched as his father left. His hands dropping down to his board and picking it up, slipping it back into its protective bag as he made quick work gathering the rest of his things. It took him two trips to get everything and by the time he was walking back the second time around, his hands were only carrying his headphones and phone anyway. He made a brief stop outside of Tahnee’s room, contemplating saying ‘goodbye’ before deciding against it. It would be a weird thing to do and the last thing he wanted was for her to take his simple-enough goodbye and shift it into something inane like, he was saying it because maybe he’d like miss her or something. Which no... it was just goodbye-- catch you in a week and a bit, if you haven’t decided to take on anymore suicidal waves or anything by then. So, yeah, no... it was better to just leave without saying it and let his mom express something to her later, after he and his brothers were already on a plane to Switzerland. 

Hugging his mom goodbye, Parker pushed Max back towards the back of the car, because he didn’t actually think he’d be riding shotgun, right? Pfft. That would be the day. After sliding into his dad’s rental Mercedes and slipping his headphones down over his ears, blocking out any chance his father might try to get him to play that infamous Nichols’ car ride game of theirs, Parker let out a sigh and closed his eyes. His loss of sleep the other night, must’ve finally caught up with him, because he ended up falling asleep the entire ride over to the airport and for a large portion of the flight to Switzerland, too. The rest being filled with watching re-runs of Archer with Brenden and stifling their laughs as their dad snored in the seat beside them both. By the time they were touching down, Parker was so amped to just have his feet back on the ground, jetlag didn’t seem to have had an effect on him. So, after checking into the hotel, Parker was quick to grab his shit up and force everyone but Max (weak) straight into the powder.

━━ ✦

“I’m king of the w--” He tackled Max into the ground with a laugh, as the younger brunette groaned out and grabbed the snow up from under him to force into Parker’s hair-- “hey...” It was snowball next that collided with both their faces, Brenden letting out a roaring laugh as he balanced on his board and wiggled his eyebrows at them both, “come on pussies! Come get me.” Parker looked at him, then back down at Max, before they both smirked and jumped up. Oh he was so dead. Running over to their boards, Parker didn’t wait for Max to click his boots back into his bindings, pushing off and trying to catch up to Brenden. Shit, though. His brother was fast. It took a few aerodynamic moves of sheer brilliance (aka leaning over as far as he could without forcing his body into a nose dive), before he was just behind him... Max too. Sweeping in front of him, Parker laughed as Brenden had to make a quick counter... oh they had the bastard now. Leaning down, Parker gathered up as much snow as he could and started to clap it into a ball, before he set his eyes on Brenden’s head and threw--. DAMN... he missed. Not his fault. It was just hard to aim and board at the same time. Max was next to take a swing at it, but unsurprisingly he missed too. Swooping down to pick up a bit more snow, Parker repeated his earlier actions only this time... the sweet sound of snow connecting with the back of Brenden’s head and the visual of his younger brother toppling head over feet into the snow was the result. Letting out a roar of laughter, as both Max and himself slid in front of him-- only Brenden wasn’t swearing and picking up snow to throw back at them-- he wasn’t moving at all. Scared shitless, Parker dropped down to his knees, grabbing his hands and twisting Brenden over-- and the little fucker. His brother laughed as he threw his hand up in his face, “Got ya!” Oh, he was definitely dead now. Climbing on top of him with his board still attached to his feet, Parker couldn’t help but start to laugh too... Max joining in, as the three of them started wrestling one another into the snow. It had been awhile since all three of them had not been at each other’s heads it was just-- it was nice not to be.

Rolling onto their backs, the three brothers let their laughs continue, before two girls stepped in front of them, shading them from the sun’s glare-- “You two are over eighteen, right?” Parker stole a glance at Max, deciding to cut him some slack for once, “yeah...” he watched Max eyes widen briefly, before nodding and sitting up a little more. “Okay, cool-- we’re having a party tonight--” The brunette watched as one of the girl’s picked up Max’s hand, removed his ski glove, and started to write-- what he could only guess from his current position was the party’s address. Cool. Hot. “Yeah, we’ll see what we can do...” He watched as the blondes smiled, said something in what? German?, before winking, turning back around and walking over to the ski lift opposite them. “OH SHIT! You’ve got to take me too!” The boy could dream. “No, we need you to cover and if you do, Max will-- Max will give you full access to his laptop-- no parental locks.” HEy--Ugh! Parker elbowed him... hard, because Max would thank him later. “Won’t you, Max?” He nodded and with a new mischievous glint in his own eyes, Brenden clapped his hands together and told them both they had nothing to worry about, he was on it. Which in the end meant that he’d manipulated Connor into asking their dad to take him to some Swiss film festival, so he could haul up in Connor and his hotel bedroom and take full advantage of Max’s collection of illegally downloaded movies and uh, other things. “Will you relax...” Seriously, he was sweating and it was snowing-- it was going to look weird. “Connor said it was going to run late and you know how dad gets about arty stuff... We’ll be fine and if he does catch us, I’ll take the fall... okay?” What was the worst that could happen? He’d take away the piano for a week? Great. He lifted his hand up to the back of Max’s neck, telling him to breathe and it would be fine, just as the door pulled back and the girls they’d seen earlier greeted them with a smile. Oh, yes tonight was going to be great. 

━━ ✦

He looked over at the blonde he’d just slept with... Not something he would’ve done if Lana and himself had been on better terms, but since they weren’t he’d figured why not. Plus, it wasn’t like it had meant anything as he slipped back out of the room and wrapped his jacket back around his body, it was just one of those things you did because both of you wanted to. Wondering where Max was, Parker began to look around before he caught sight of his brother standing outside and fuck it must be freezing-- and it was. “Max?” He looked... “Are you okay?” He watched as his brother wiped at his face and turned away from him. “Uh yeah, yeah I’m good.” He wasn’t and even if they had never had the best relationship, Parker wasn’t about to let him be alone right now. “No, you’re not... what happened?” He walked up and got him to turn back around to face him... watching as he let out a laugh, a sob, and a smile at the same time... “I-- I uh had sex.” It took a moment, before Parker’s face shifted, because Max wasn’t just saying he’d had sex... he was saying he’d just had sex for the first time... and okay... “Oh, but that’s a good thing, right?” He watched as Max tried to smile, but it was clear now that he was upset about the whole thing, and okay... Parker could fix this. “You know, no one ever lasts very long their first--” he shook his head. Mumbling something out that Parker couldn’t quite get until he’d asked him to repeat himself and Max said it again, “I thought it would be more special.... that’s all.” Oh. Oh. He got it. “You know... same.” Max’s eyes widened as he tried to make sense of what Parker was saying, “but, but you slept with Lana didn’t you?” With a sigh, Parker turned to look out at the snow falling into the trees below the deck, “no. I told Lana she was my first, but. I freaked out. Lana kept telling me how special it was all going to be and how happy she was that it was going to be with me... and I just... I don’t know... I panicked. I didn’t think I was going to live up to her expectations of me, so I went out a week before Prom and hooked up with some girl at this college party and the whole thing lasted thirty seconds and I just-- I felt like crap. And it wasn’t like it helped... ‘cause instead of being nervous I would suck, I just felt guilty the entire time I was with Lana, and I couldn’t stay-- well you know... and of course, she pinned it down to first time nerves, but...” he sighed again. It felt weird telling Max this. It felt weird telling Max anything about himself. “So, hey you’re not the only one...” turning back around, his hand found his brother’s shoulder and he gripped it... “I’ll let you in on a secret though. First times... got nothing on the first time you’re with someone you’re actually in love with... now, they’re... they’re special.” He smiled, watching as his brother did the same, and maybe this was it? The thing that finally brought them together, as he wrapped an arm around his neck and reminded him if he ever wanted to see daylight again they really needed to get back to their hotel before their dad woke up in the middle of the night and decided to do a spontaneous room check or something. 

━━ ✦

He woke up to an alarm clock that said, 12:06 PM... a groan slipping out of his mouth when he realised, Connor had mentioned their dad wanting to have lunch with everyone. Twisting around in his bed, he looked over to Max’s where the brunette was currently drooling on the top of his pillow-- the urge to swing a pillow at his head not as prominent as it used to be. Apparently their talk last night had shifted things. He was still going to have to get up though, so after removing himself from the tangle of his own sheets, Parker went over and nudged his brother’s shoulder with his hand, “wake up...” Max groaned out in protest, “dad wants us all to have lunch together, remember?” That did it. That always did it. There wasn’t a lot Max wouldn’t do for their father and Parker got it, because there wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for his dad, either. His fingers ached at the thought, as he pulled himself over to his suitcase and found clothes his dad would deem suitable enough for their lunch. After they’d both slipped into their clothes and had caught up with Brenden, who said Dad was already with Connor in the dinning hall, the three brothers made their way to the nearest lift and pressed L for lobby.

The nineteen-year-old could already tell it was one of those hotel restaurants that catered for the public as much as its own guests. The room itself grand and filled with people and signs that indicated it had earned itself a Michelin star last year. They walked over to where their dad was currently talking to Connor, smiling, laughing... and it was so weird to see his dad like this, happy... and maybe this trip was actually going to change more than just his relationship with his brother, but his relationship with his dad too. Maybe his dad really was sorry for everything-- and, “didn’t I tell you I had some of the best-looking sons in all of America...” he let out a nervous laugh, as the woman sitting in the chair beside his dad’s table, nodded and told him... if any of them were single, she had a granddaughter she wouldn’t mind-- and fortunately for Parker, the waiter had come to distract everyone... “so, what do you boys want... take your pick... anything off the menu...” He scanned the menu and of course it was all in French, so he didn’t really know what to make of it, besides... oh.... Le Cheeseburger... “cheeseburger.” He looked over at his dad, like he was expecting him to tell him to order something else... something more prestigious, but nope he wanted one too-- they were all getting cheeseburgers... the finest cheeseburgers in all of Switzerland. So, instead of holding onto it-- whatever it was that he’d been holding onto since his fingers had snapped last year, he let it go... and relaxed. "Le Cheeseburgers!” 

Turns out, the Swiss can make a really, really good cheeseburger, as Parker finished off his and laughed at Brenden who’d ended up with more on his chin than his mouth. The waiter was back for drink orders now and apparently his dad trusted him enough to order one of his own... “uh, yeah house wine will be great...” he figured it would be. His dad seemed pretty happy about it earlier, so.... “bring us the bottle... and can you find out if we can use that...” He watched as the waiter looked between his dad’s eyes and the piano out on the floor in front and said something like, only the hotel Pianist has access, “I don’t think you understand who my son is and how he could--” “dad it’s okay...” “uh, sorry Sir, but it really is just for--” He watched as his dad stood up and tapped his wine glass with his butter knife. “Excuse me everyone...” the room grew quiet, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if my son played y’all a song on that grand piano of yours...” The room seemed confused but then after one person (an American, of course) started to clap... it didn’t take long for everyone else to fall into line and for the waiter to look around nervously, because what could he do now? Probably just as much as Parker felt he could about the whole situation. “Go on, Parker... get up there and show them what you got...” he looked up... his voice quiet... “I don’t want to.” His dad catching it though, “don’t be stupid... go on... show us all what the great LMU has taught you...” He’d been wrong to think this trip was going to go any differently... God... he’d been so naive... of course his dad would find somewhere for him to play... when had anything been about just them... just them without a set of black and white keys between them. “No...” “Dad, he doesn’t want to maybe just--” “I’m not talking to you Max...” he could see it in his eyes now... that if he said it again he’d regret it but he did it anyway. Standing up and walking out of the restaurant, making his way up to his room because he didn’t want his dad or his brothers to see him right now. 

Alone in his room, he found himself reaching out for his phone-- but who was he going to call? His mom? Will? Lana? Would any of them get it? No... The door clicked open and he’d been ready to tell Max, that he needed a minute... because even despite the fact that he seemingly had his side back down there, he still knew that his brother wouldn’t quite understand it still. That he’d always been a little jealous that Parker had a gift that he didn’t and not just that-- a gift he apparently never seemed to appreciate... “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH YOU JUST EMBARRASSED ME JUST NOW!” he turned around. Ready to face the music. “You promised no piano---” “OH, so me being proud of my son... and his gift... that’s a bad thing is it?” “No it’s just--” “It’s just what! ‘Cause all I see is an ungrateful asshole who doesn’t appreciate the talent I’ve handed down to him and the talent I’ve taught him and forgets...” His father closed in, taking Parker’s hand in between his own... “I can take it away just as easily too..” his fingers wrapped around Parker’s index finger, and before he could do anything-- searing pain shot through it as his father snapped it back. Falling to the ground, his hand wrapping around his hand and now his broken finger, Parker found himself in a position his father had seen him in before, and a position he knew how to take full advantage of... “I’m sick...” his foot kicked into Parker’s ribs hard... and pain that had only been in his finger up till now, spread elsewhere. “And tired...” another kick... more pain... “of you wasting my talent, because...” kick, kick... “you’d rather surf all day...” kick... “than work hard... and...” kick... Parker cried out, as the pain spread throughout his entire body... making it hard for him to think... let alone breathe... “appreciate what I’ve given you...” Leaning down, Parker felt his dad’s hand wrap around his shirt, lifting his face up to his own.... “one day... one day... you’ll wake up and realise... what you’re throwing away... I just hope for you son... it isn’t too late by then.” After another shake of his head, another look at the disappointment his son was to him, David dropped his grip and let Parker fall back down against the edge of the bed... “you know... just like I used to tell your mom... I wouldn’t have to do this... if you’d just show a little more appreciation for what I’ve given you... fuck...” he stood up and after taking one more look at Parker, inching away from him... shook his head and walked back out the door. 

━━ ✦

It was another hour or so, before Parker was back up... limping over to bathroom... and closing the door behind him. His finger the first thing he took a second to check out-- and fuck... how was he going to snap it back into place. He looked around and after another few seconds of searching and coming up dry, limped back into the hotel room to find a few mini bottles of vodka instead. With the taste now on his lips he took a few quick and fast breaths before he grabbed ahold of it and snap... “Fuckkkkkkk....” he wanted to pass out... he wanted to... he couldn’t. If Max found him like this he’d know. He wasn’t that dumb and if he knew he might confront his dad and no... this needed to stay between them, because he’d apologise tomorrow... he would. He’d realise that he’d gone too far this time and he’d say he was sorry and besides, he was right... Parker had been ungrateful... he could and should play more... and-- he lifted his shirt... the bruises already beginning to form and coat his entire chest rouge... they’d be purple by tomorrow. Was his rib-- yes.... yes his rib was broken... he was-- he was going to be sick. He ran over and tried not buckle, but he did and the vomit came quick and painfully out of him and into the toilet bowl. Throwing up with a broken set of ribs was a nauseating experience and one that kept him down there on the floor repeating the painful motion, until his stomach was empty and he’d heard Max come back into the room. 

He could hear him now, pacing outside the door, his eyes slipping shut, begging... just begging him to forget it.. and go away... but he didn’t. “Uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay--” He couldn’t let Max think for a moment he wasn’t, so he went for the easier option out of the two.. the one he knew would work and keep working for the rest of the trip, “what? You think because of last night... we’re like the brothers who actually ‘care’ about each other now or something? Leave me alone.” “Parker...” “I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!” he waited... and then... the door clicked and he was able to slide back down... press his face into the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. Where he remained till his father came back in a few hours later and picked him up... “come on...” 

He remembered hearing Tay’s mother Evie once tell a kid who’d been hesitant to paddle out in The Cove that ‘your life shrinks in accordance with your fear...” and that he was only as small as he felt... well... Parker felt pretty damn small as the doctor asked him what had happened and his dad laughed beside him, saying, “kid thought he’d take on a double black diamond...” a lie that was bought, as the doctor laughed too and all Parker could do was let him put the splint on his finger and hand him a few pills for the pain. Pills he felt dig into his hand a little harder, when his father wrapped his arm around his neck and walked him back through the Swiss hospital, “see... not so bad... you’ll be able to play again soon.” He nodded. Too tired to fight it anymore... as he slid back into the rental car and turned his face towards the window. He might not have got it when Tay had first said it a few weeks ago, but he got it now... got what she meant when she said, it wouldn’t have been such a bad way to go... ‘Cause at least in the water he knew what was making it so hard for him to breathe... made sense... inside the car with his dad, made less... and how was going to find relief again, when there was no apparent surface in sight? 

He closed his eyes... and pictured waves... it was easier that way. 

[hollenka99]

Chasing a Nap

Happy belated birthday, @septic-dr-schneep ! I’m really sorry this is late but I kept experiencing setbacks. I hope you enjoy it regardless.

The week had been a long one for Chase. He had spent the majority of it comforting Brianna. He even convinced Stacy to trust him enough with the baby to go to work. It wasn't practical for both of them to stay home and besides, she was the higher earner. Furthermore, he couldn't let his wife be kept up by their sick and agitated child when she had to be alertly productive the next morning. Brianna's nursery had become his bedroom as well to avoid disturbing Stacy for this very reason. Henrik had gotten involved in the matter too. It began as "Schneep, Brianna's really sick and I don't know what to do. Please help." which soon became "How do I know for sure she's not dehydrated?". Eventually Henrik had to remind the anxious father not to call him at work unless it was a true emergency. He sounded like he was doing fine and if Chase carried on caring for her as he already was, she would recover soon enough. Yes, it had been a week that refused to end. But now it was Saturday. He had been invited to hang out with his brothers for a movie. Chase's obligation to his family caused him to decline at first. Stacy insisted otherwise. For god sake, he's handled this mostly on his own for the past several days. Stacy could take care of her own child for a few hours, especially now the worst seemed to be nearly over. Marvin smiles warmly as he greets him at the door. "Hey." Chase gives a half-hearted wave. "I'm glad you could make it." The edges of his mouth lower. "How much sleep have you even had?" "Uh... take the amount of sleep a dad of a one year old should be getting a day and" Chase contemplates the maths for a moment. "a quarter of that. Or a third. Which is smaller again? It doesn't matter." "No offense but you look like it." He ushers the exhausted father into the living room. "We can always make this a sleepover." Jackie joked. "Stacy wouldn't let me take my phone because she thinks I'd spend the whole night asking for updates on how Brianna's doing." "Which you probably would." "Maybe. But she's my daughter and she's sick. Sue me. Anyway, without my phone, I can't tell Stacy-" "You're not the only one with a phone, Chase." Marvin grumbles. "You can borrow one of ours if you need to." Suggestions for what they should watch are tossed around. The usual fight for the remote ensues as it always does during movie nights. The deciding vote rested on someone who was nonchalant. Chase suggests they just pick a DVD. Another dispute regarding the films they owned broke out. Eventually, too much deliberation causes them to choose Inception for the sake of reaching a decision. The four egos tussle over the popcorn. Henrik protests that the little buttery ones were disappearing too quickly. Jackie argues that's probably because the doctor is the one eating them all. A salted popcorn flake soars in the direction of the hero. A tactful dodge causes Chase to become the recipient of the attack. Dazed, he startles. He launches an M&M as retribution. None of them pay attention to the first handful of scenes. It is after they settle down that Marvin gets an elbow to the stomach. He's about to rebuke Jackie until he notices the grin. "How many levels deep do you think he is?" He mouths, pointing at their youngest brother. Slumped against the sofa's arm, Chase is out cold. The three of them laugh fondly at him. They decide to leave him be. He certainly deserves the nap. Henrik, who had the easiest access to his feet, is tasked with retrieving Jackie's phone to capture the moment. The three agree to keep any necessary talk at a low volume for the remainder of the film. A while later, from the corner of his eye, Marvin notices Jackie fidgeting. "Is something wrong?" "I don't want him drooling on me." "Oh, he deal with sick baby all week but you don't want a little bit of drool." "He's not even leaning on you." Marvin snaps in a hushed manner. "He'll get drool on the sofa." "So? We can just clean it later." A sly smile forms on the magician's face. "At least he's quiet when he's asleep. Unlike a certain someone." "Hey! You take that back." There is soft shove. "Stop the pushing. You'll wake him." Henrik scolds. At that, they resume watching. A while later, as Cobb tells of his experience of Limbo, Chase shifts to his other side. He in turn clings to Jackie. It triggers giggling. Jackie mutters near his youngest brother's ear. He promises Chase it would be far better if he released his grip on the limb. Jackie's delight makes him giddy when Chase once again readjusts some 10 minutes later, freeing the hero's arm. Without wasting another second, his right arm encompasses and brings closer the lover of stunts. Henrik sighs. "Jackie, you will let him leave, yes?" "Never." He sticks his tongue out for a second as the left arm curls around Chase's back. The infamous spinning top twirls and brings about the end credits. Still the latest of Jackie's 'victims' dozes. As cautiously as they are able, the three of them vacate the sofa to allow Chase to have full access of it. They leave him at peace. After leaving a recording session, Jack checks his phone. There's the usual notifications, a message from Robin about another Best of Jacksepticeye video and texts from... Jackie? Dread rises within him as he anticipates potentially bad news. He can only hope he's not about to be told the superhero is hospitalised or there's been a sighting of Anti. He has nothing to worry about. It's a couple pictures of Chase. He can't see the arm properly in the first thanks to Chase's head obscuring it but he's sure its positioning resembles a stapler. His head rests slightly above the elbow. Faded green hair sprawls out around him. Despite Chase's mouth being partially agape and his cheek squished against the arm, he appears pleasantly devoid of stress. The second is Jackie looking as if he is desperately attempting not to laugh aloud. His grin and flat palm directed at his brother's head scream 'Help, what do I do?!'. Why? Because Chase has attached himself to the superhero. An arm lays across his chest while the other one appears to be twisted around Jackie's arm. Chase's head has now found a new resting place on Jackie's shoulder. Below is the caption:

He's had a long week. Not that you can tell. ;) Chuckling, Jack sends his reply. Aww! Tell him I say hi when he wakes up

[doctorguilty]

ok you’ve all been waiting for it my thoughts on the sonic movie!!!

under cut cause long

so overall! I really liked the movie! I think it sorta landed pretty in the ballpark of what I sorta expected quality-of-plot wise and how much I’d be entertained by it. which is satisfying!!! I’m going to like, stream of thought this, starting with some criticisms which are gonna be kinda hefty cause im critiquing something I care about 

so right away I really disliked the “record scratch so this is me I bet you’re wondering how I got in this situation” opening like I’m not sure if it was intentionally a self aware joke on that being cliche and dumb but it does like, really frustrate me cause my philosophy for most stories is Start your story where it begins!! which made the backstory infodump more frustrating on top of that, like, I think that’s an easy mistake to make to want to spill your Backstory right away but it’s not necessary! the audience doesn’t NEED to know immediately what sonic was like in his homeworld and his tragic separation from it. we already have the audiences suspension of disbelief in play because they know they’re watching.. a movie about sonic the hedgehog in the real world. I think the backstory stuff would have been much more impactful as a flashback later on, especially when sonic’s whole arc is how lonely and isolated he is. it would be a better punch in the heart to later on be like so by the way as a child his guardian probably died and sent him to earth for his own safety. so that was like AUGH you blew it 

next up that i think was unnecessary like, completely, was establishing that sonic already knew the main cop guy and his wife (omg I already forgot their names..because they were not memorable but we’ll get to that fjdsg) and like, secretly immersed himself into their life that’s ?? odd to me? I think it would have been fine to just have sonic be like attached to the whole small town and he thinks the cop is cool and calls him donut lord, and that’s the extent of it like cause the problem is later down the plot when sonic finds out cop guy is leaving green hills and flips out about it.. I’m like, not sure if I believe sonic, immersing himself in their life, had NOT known that was a thing cop guy wanted to do like he NEVER heard about that??? but that’s like whatever 

I don’t really like the cop guy as the protag human like. oof he was very bland and I’m trying to figure out how to put this into words............ I feel like a character like him isn’t someone the audience can really connect to. this guy has a virtually perfect life with a house and a dog and a job and a wife, his Conflict is that he wants to move to california and see more action and save people, but the WEIRDEST thing about it is that the prospect of leaving his little town behind isn’t really shaking him up at all. it shakes SONIC up later, but up until that point.... the cop just has legit a perfect life and it’s kinda sad because sonic appearing in it physically becomes something that immediately has the effect of “starting to ruin it” and thats why the cop is so like, mean about things at first. 

see I don’t really like that it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. if I were to rewrite this keeping the general ideas in mind, I would have opted for a ... paul blart crossed with judy hopps. a guy who’s life isn’t all in order, maybe not living in trash but he doesn’t have a wife, he DREAMS of being a cop and saving people, but he doesn’t quite have what it takes physically/mentally or maybe he’s too afraid to even try. he loves his rural town but thinks like, maybe if I move to the big city I’ll find myself maybe he’s offered a job there for something boring and is like resigning to a boring life idk there’s a lot you can do but you get the idea! a lonely underdog with big dreams. so when Sonic comes into his life, its WAY more impactful to paul hopps.....judy blart...... that Sonic pleads for help saving his life and this sudden adventure isn’t ruining his life either. 

then LATER when we get to sonic being upset that paul hopps wants to leave, it’s less this awkward confrontation “how dare you wanna live your already in motion dreams somewhere ELSE  because people love you HERE” (like .. oof bad take tbh) it would be a much nicer “why do you want to leave your home to become a hero when everyone here already sees you as one” and instead of the shabby like “well I guess I’ll stay because i crossed off saving someone from my bucket list” paul hopps would feel fulfilled he saved sonic and I actually you know what? I’d change up the whole scene with the turtle to be at the end where paul hopps becomes a cop in green hills and he like, saves a turtle crossing the road and is like! that’s what its all about being a hero! like thats cute and resonates with an audience, the message like, being a hero just means being kind and doing the right thing, which is way more suitable for a sonic movie when the sonic series has always been a campy power of friendship thing. 

in a similar vein, the cop being a lonely underdog would give him a better connection with sonic, so that even if he was annoyed by him at first he’d later have the understanding they’re one in the same, you know? connections people!! themes!!!! 

anyway but enough of that au 

so the last thing I’m like iffy about is how robotnik was handled. like jim carry is funny and stuff but it felt like a bit of a mess like, this character is repeatedly reminding us what a hard ass I’M SUPERIOR THAN YOU MY IQ IS HUGE but then being super mega goofy, like I’m all for eccentric scientists but it felt kind of disconnected? and idk like not to be that guy but man.. i remember when sonic 06 came out and everyone hated how eggman was slimmed down to what he looked like in that game jfkdfsgksdj like my brain really doesn’t find a fully slender bodied eggman palatable like......... let my mans be fat ... WHICH tbh I’m a little nervous because at the end of the movie we see this implication that robotnik is turning more visually into the eggman we know with the stache and bald head but I’m worried they’re gonna also go with “and he also gets fat” cause I don’t like that sort of thing, you know? 

i think that’s all for my major criticisms!! but otherwise like! the movie was genuinely really fun and goofy and it felt very in spirit with the sonic franchise! 

if you read bogleech’s post I agree with him whole heartedly that this is the best characterization of sonic. it feels almost like?????? the characterization he was MEANT To have but he always ended  up going TOO MUCH in the direction of confident and cocky and being too cool and successful about it? I love sonic with that hyper teenager-like personality, it’s incredibly charming and cute, like I never Hated sonic as a character but he was defs like... lower on my list of characters in the franchise I found interesting. I felt like I could connect with movie sonic a lot and like! i’d want to be his friend, you know? I really really want to see more of him like that! 

I also agree big time that the movie had the best use of bullet time I’ve ever seen! I’m like omg?? WHY hasnt that ever been a mechanic in a game? 

and overall just like the cuteness like............I literally almost cried when the little girl gave sonic her shoes like AAAAAAAAAAAAA WEEPS............ and the end with sonic getting his own room thats so super cute too!!!! 

oh and the post credits scene with tails was SO FUCKING HYPE like, people in the theater audibly gasped and started being like  YESSSSSSS tails looks really great! 

so like YEAH dabs ,, being a story snob aside it was a fun and cute movie and I’m glad to hear it trumped detective pikachu for a video game movie  I’m glad it’s brought some attention to the sonic franchise! like while it’s cool in some aspects that Nerd Culture is mainstream now, it’s absolutely exhausting the HUGE focus on that is marvel and DC and all that stuff........ like theres nothing wrong w/ liking that but its like.. hm.... idk how to explain it but................. as someone who was bullied a lot in school for liking things like sonic.. like I guess stuff like that people usually see as lame stuff for babies??? superheroes are more like, macho and palatable to adults?? it’s been a good experience for all my normie coworkers to ask what I did for valentines day and I tell them “I saw the sonic the hedgehog movie” and I BRACE myself reflexively to be laughed at but not a single person did they were just like oh cool! how was it? like it really makes me appreciate I got to at least grow up and feel a little more accepted! 

so THATS my thoughts feel free to comment and discuss! 

[science-lings]

I wish you would write a fic where Peter has to be the Bartons' babysitter

It wasn’t supposed to be a hard mission, it just required all of the Avengers. Not including Peter. Right before Tony and Peppers wedding. When Hawkeyes secret family ended up staying in the tower for convenience. And Mrs. Barton, bless her, needed a break. So Peter volunteered to Babysit while Mrs. Barton and May went out to de-stress.

Peter could handle kids, he had handled kids before, it was practically in his job resume as Spider-Man. Walking kids home, saving kids from bullies, it was all part of being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. However, entertaining three kids and one toddler for several hours wasn’t something he had experience with. He never had any siblings and he wasn’t exactly the go-to babysitter for his apartment building.

He would probably be fine. Hopefully. It didn’t help that Scott Lang was invited last minute, and it was his weekend with his little girl. He didn’t have time to call her mom and step-dad so he let her be on the quinjet that dropped her off in New York where all of the other Avengers were meeting up. Ant-Man had as much logic as Peter did and he didn’t complain, Cassie was a delight to be around. Peter could handle it.

A half hour later when Peter was covered in his own webbing, he admitted that maybe he couldn’t handle it. But Peter was not known for asking for help. He usually just tried to handle everything himself and people got mad at him for it. Time to do it again.

Nathaniel couldn’t quite walk yet so Peter had to constantly help him around, he also hated being alone so Peter had to pick him up a lot too. This was fine, Peter could just use his sticking powers to keep the kid attached to him if he ever needed two hands and even for several hours the kid would never get too heavy.

Peter instantly became the best babysitter ever when he found the Avengers-themed mini ice cream cartons. The Barton kids all wanted the Hawkeye themed ice cream flavor, not because it had their dad on it, but because it was cookie dough flavor. Nathaniel got the red velvet flavored black widow ice cream because she was his favorite aunt. Cassie found a apple pie flavored Captain America ice cream and Peter went for the Hulk flavor because fudge was delicious.

They all piled onto the couch and ate the ice cream while excitedly watching a movie. It took a while to pick out one that they all wanted to watch, eventually, they went with ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ because it was a good mix of dragons and cute things. It appealed to everyone.

There were a bunch of times where one of the kids would go off in a long hypothetical tangent about dragons and Peter could barely understand it but he pretended to. He would ask them which dragon was their favorite and what characters they liked and they got so excited to share their opinions that it was kind of funny.

After the movie, they wanted to play like they had dragons and surprise surprise, Peter was the dragon and he carried them all around like he was flying. He was very thankful for his superpowers making everything easier, his spider-sense never failed to go off if one of them was about to fall or do something just as stupid.

He told them about being Spider-Man and that it was a big secret and not to tell anybody. He entertained them by sticking to the ceiling and doing flips, which they seemed to like a whole lot. Of course, screaming kids weren’t exactly great for someone with super-hearing but he endured. He handled it by telling them that Spider-Man had magic ears that hurt when things were too loud and they whispered everything for ten minutes before it was back to loud giggling and squealing.

Eventually, though, all of the energy produced by all of the kids was cut off and Peter declared its naptime. Mostly for himself. He was the one who needed a nap the most. He got out a bunch of blankets and they piled onto the couch,

Their bedtime story was Peter telling them about how he got his powers and trying to convert all of the scientific terms into language that kids could understand. It was kind of hard. Peter fell asleep holding Nate with Cooper and Lila leaning on his shoulders and Cassie laying on top of them all.

When the Avengers and their non-powered family members got back, they were all still asleep. Several pictures were taken and they were desperate not to wake anyone up. Clint just took Nathaniel from Peter’s arms and ordered the rest of the Avengers to pick a child to help take them to the beds they had been given. Natasha carried Lila and Steve carried Cooper to their rooms. Tony gently woke Peter up as he was a little less easy to carry. But he let the kid lean on him and lead him to his own room.

“Goodnight bud,” Tony said as they made it to Peter’s room.

“G’night Mr.Stark,” Peter said, a little slurred. “I love you.” Tony didn’t know if it was from habit or Peter was too tired to think about what he said but he was a little stunned nonetheless.

“Love you too kiddo.” He replied anyway.

[salty-apples]

My first memory of a wedding dress is a little vague but I can still remember the feelings of awe and wonder it inspired. It was my cousin’s wedding and I was her flower girl. I was decked in a frothy, flowery pink dress and my cousin who seemed to fill the room with her height (I was tiny then and everything looked huge from my perspective) was in the biggest ballgown I had ever seen. Struck by the beauty and sheer mass of the dress, I began to look forward to the day I too, would get my ballgown moment (opinions have since changed- I am no longer a ballgown aficionado).

Since then, I have been on a quest to find the most beautiful wedding dresses in the world- and from my rather hyperbolic title, you can tell that today’s post is going to be a doozy.

Hello and welcome to another post where I fangirl over a topic.

Today, I’m going to be pulling together all the wedding dresses I’ve ever loved, from cinema to real life, you name it! This particular post is in two parts and I’ll be discussing why I love the dresses and why I think they make the top ten all-time list.

First up, wedding dresses from film.  

Carrie Bradshaw’s Vivienne Westwood dress from Sex and the City

The Sex and the City universe was a fashion trip. Although I never actually watched the series, I was glued to the products of Carrie Bradshaw’s wardrobe in the movies. The photoshoot for the magazine after her engagement was announced was amazing, giving us shot after shot of what happens when you get the all-star treatment. The dresses from the designers were works of art but none embodied the fashion forward spirit of our heroine than her Vivienne Westwood dress. To even begin to understand why the dress is so special, you’ve got to first look at its creator. Vivienne Westwood is known as the godmother of punk fashion, and to dip her nib in the wedding ink, you know that such a designer is going to do something extraordinary.

And extraordinary it was. Carrie’s dress is a ballgown, holding true to her princess-like status. But it is also sleek and modern, capturing the very essence of a woman who sees herself as the heart and soul of New York. It is beautiful and paired with the feather, it was stunning. This dress is an all-star entry, deserving of its own spot in an exhibition and I’m sure there a few people who would agree.

Mia Thermopolis-Renaldi’s dress in The Princess Diaries 2: A Royal Engagement

I don’t know how many people know this but I am not the biggest fan of lace, mostly because lace in all its forms disagrees with me.

However, I am willing to forget all that when I watch The Princess Diaries, especially the second movie. I love all the fashion moments, from Queen Clarisse’s dress to Mia’s 21st birthday party to their parade outfits. But the zenith of all moments was Mia, gliding down the aisle in the most regal wedding dress a fictional character has ever worn.

And you know what it had?

Lace, and a good amount of it.

Mia’s A-line beauty was built for a queen-in-waiting, the lace being a sign of that girlish, somewhat careless nature of hers and the smooth silk providing structure to the lace, strong support for a girl transitioning into a woman; a princess into a queen. For anyone who is looking for some sweet royal inspiration, look no further than Her Royal Majesty, Queen Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Queen of Genovia.

Lisa McDowell’s wedding dress in Coming to America

You know what’s wild about Coming to America?

It’s how they managed to pull off all that Euro-African headgear! It cracks me up every time.

Anyway, Coming to America doesn’t disappoint when it comes to delivering iconic lines and equally iconic fashion. I’m sure by now we’re familiar with the various interpretations of Imani’s court presentation dress during prom season but least talked about is the dress that ends it all- Lisa’s bubblegum pink delight of a wedding dress.

If you’ve read my colors post, my total abhorrence for the color pink is no surprise. That hatred melts away when I see Lisa’s dress. In form, it is the typical choice for an African bride- massive ballgown with a bustier and a towering tiara (the only thing it’s missing is the typical jacket- you know the one). But in color, it sets her apart. That’s not to say that there aren’t members of court who are donning the pink for the wedding. No, this is different. They are clad in soft gauzy pastels but she is the American woman who stole the heart of their prince and she is in a quintessentially American color. She is representing.

And in this thesis, I will discuss why everybody needs to vote Lisa McDowell for president…

Just kidding. Tl; dr: Lisa got the best dress a princess-to-be could ask for.

Toula Portcullis’ dress in My Big Fat Greek Wedding

For anyone who hasn’t heard of Toula Portcullis, she is the much-harangued heroine of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Honestly, her pains are many especially after she gets engaged and has to balance the cares of planning an intercultural wedding while still managing to stay sane. She’s stressed and if not for her fiancé, she would have lost it completely.

That aside, the reason her dress is here is not because it is a great beauty (it’s not quite to my liking, really) but for the sentiment attached to it. Toula, as the last female to wed in her family, is gifted with the poufiest dress in history, a dress steeped in a mix of love, culture and good wishes. It is her family’s wish that she lives and lives well and with the way they handle they dress, the ball of fabric passing from happy hand to happy hand before it gets to the bride, their coos and prayers are following her. Even though she declares, “I am a snow beast” as she sees herself in the mirror, she’s still as her family wanted her to be- the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. Later on- after some reverse tailoring by the new couple- excessively frilly, silly and poufy becomes pretty and sweet.

And that is the end of my story.  

Tiana’s wedding dress from The Princess and the Frog

Tiana’s wedding dress is as a few of my friends from school used to say, special spesh. Besides being the first and only black princess in the Disney Princess franchise, she’s also the only one whose dress can boast of what it’s made of.

First, it is straight up juju- a feat I am yet to see any Nollywood movie accomplished. Tiana had the best dressmaker in the world and I know this because from what I know, any woman who is called ‘The Voodoo Queen of the Bayou’ has got to outrank another who goes by ‘Fairy Godmother’ (I’m sorry, Ms. Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bo but it’s a fact).

Second, her dress is 100% natural- everything swamp material. Tiana marries (pun intended) fashion, function and today’s buzzword, ‘sustainability’ in what is perhaps, the grandest statement a new princess can make. It is green, regal and eco-friendly and who better to wear a dress that striking than a woman who understands how to live a no-waste life.

And next, wedding dresses from real life!

Grace Kelly’s wedding dress

No list about the best weeding dresses is complete without mentioning Grace Kelly.

Before there was Meghan Markle, there was the original American superstar to marry into royalty and her dress… Constructed by her studio’s seamstress, Helen Rose, Grace Kelly’s dress was built in such a way that it did not overwhelm her in the way that many wedding dresses can. The lampshade silhouette of the dress, though uncommon now, is quite unique, especially with the way it stands- with unnoticed support structure, of course. The lace is delicate, sculpted into style that is both modern and old. It fits its wearer perfectly and makes her quite the standout bride. The dress is timeless, an opinion I’m sure most bridal enthusiasts would agree with.

Beyoncé’s vow renewal gown by Galia Lahav

There’s something about Galia Lahav creations that just transport the viewer or wearer into another world. Dresses from the brilliant folks who make them are elegant, stylish and beautiful, and this particular dress – worn by none other than Beyoncé – takes the cake.

I’ve always loved seeing Galia Lahav dresses and this particular dress has been my favorite for a long time. When I saw that Beyoncé had nabbed it for vow renewal, I was practically jumping for joy. It is an elegantly crafted piece, with a structured bodice, statement sleeves, sections of skirt that stylishly expose the thigh, and both delicate lace and rococo-style detailing juxtaposed beside each other. It’s beautiful dress for a beautiful lady who makes beautiful music.

Was that too many beautifuls?

Angelina Jolie’s wedding dress

Just like Toula Portcullis’ dress, Angelina Jolie’s dress was steeped in sentiment. A simple enough dress, pleated at the bodice and attached to an A-line skirt, the main draw of the skirt was what was it’s back. Made by Versace, it was as simple as it was sweet.

Giving her children license to express themselves, the back of the wedding dress was transformed into a canvas for them. Each of her children contributed drawings, doodles and sketches which were then transferred from paper to fabric and transformed into high art. It was, in short, a beautiful tribute from loving children to their loving mother. I bet Maleficent would have loved it.

Kate Middleton’s Alexander McQueen wedding dress

Whenever a royal wedding rolls around, regular folk and royal watchers get buzzing. All royal families are well, royal and there is none more royal than the most famous one of all: The British Royal Family. So, when a future queen gets her wedding day, the best designers are entrusted with the task of making the royal bride look the part.

To execute this task, the Duchess of Cambridge turned to the house of Alexander McQueen. Head of house, Sarah Burton delivered in a big way, turning the volume on the phrase, ‘English Rose’ all the way up. Incorporating motifs of the English Commonwealth into a traditional princess look, lace and silk and delicate detailing were the order of the day. Her Royal Highness’ wedding dress beat all on her wedding and it has continued to be one of the top contenders on the list of the most defining wedding dresses of the last twenty years.

And this absolutely fantastic creation!

This dress looks like Christmas morning, with a side of ‘It’s my birthday!’ You can be sure that though my preferences aren’t with ball gowns, this is one dress I would not hesitate to put on if it were given to me!

And that folks, is the end of today’s post. I know everybody’s got their favorites and I can’t wait to hear yours.

This post marks the end of the ‘clearing out my drafts’ spree and I, for one, am glad that now, I can really begin to work on new stuff. A few pieces are currently cooking in my head and who knows, maybe a certain suspended series might get some new life! It’s the season of second chances and I am just brimming with joy as Christmas Day approaches.

Until next time, ciao!

Top 10 wedding dresses of all time My first memory of a wedding dress is a little vague but I can still remember the feelings of awe and wonder it inspired.

[darks-ink]

The Secret Life of Pets

Gift fic for @jkqlynidewho won my 100 follower giveaway! Also on AO3 and FFnet.

Also you wouldn't believe the kind of research I did for this fic. I discovered that a lot of cat owners hate literally everything their cat does. Who woulda thunk? And yes I may or may not have looked up the exact title of the movie with the same name as this fic just so I could properly copy it. If I'm gonna steal the title from a movie I'm gonna do it properly, dangit.

A ghost shimmered into view in front of Vlad. There weren’t a lot of ghosts who visited him at his mayoral office – most knew better than to bother him here.

He had to admit that he was surprised to see this one, however. While admittedly the white-haired teen had visited him before, he usually had a reason. Specifically, he usually dropped by all irate after Vlad had launched another of his brilliant plans.

Brilliant plans which he hadn’t made, recently. Which he hadn’t acted on.

So why was Daniel here?

“Little badger,” he greeted the boy in front of him, smiling politely – just because he didn’t know why Daniel was here didn’t mean that he had act like it. “What can I do for you?”

Daniel fidgeted, pulling his arms closer to his chest. And only now did Vlad notice that he was carrying something – a small bundle of bright green fur. A ghost?

“I, um.” He glanced downwards at the small animal in his arms. Then back at Vlad. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Really now?” Vlad let his eyes wander towards the unknown ghost. “Is this related to your little friend, perhaps?”

“Yeah, actually.” Daniel floated closer. And then unceremoniously dumped the ball of fur on Vlad’s desk.

The ghost turned out to be a small dog. Covered entirely with green fur, but blinking large red eyes at him. Its flame-like tail was wagging up a storm already, and its purple tongue was lolling out of its mouth. A spiked collar was looped around its neck, a small tag attached to the front of it. He didn’t bother reading it – he didn’t care.

Vlad grimaced, then ignored the ghost to look at the boy. “Daniel, what on Earth do you want me to do with this mutt?”

“I need you to look after him for me.” He started petting the dog, which squinted its eyes in pleasure. “I need him to stay away for a couple of days so I can get him a permanent place to stay. A week, tops.”

Was this kid serious? He considered Vlad his arch-nemesis, and yet he dropped by to ask him to babysit a dog?

“Daniel,” he started, folding his hands together to look more composed than he felt. “Why would you come to me to babysit,” he gestured at the panting dog on his desk, “this?”

The boy blinked large green eyes at him. “Well, I… You’re… sort of the only person I know who actually knows enough about ghosts to take care of one.” Then he looked down at the dog he was still petting and added, “And Cujo usually runs away to seek out other ghosts if he’s not already with one.”

Vlad sighed, repressing the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “So you decided to bring it to me?”

“Uh, yeah.” Daniel fidgeted uneasily, restlessly petting the dog. “Just for a few days, I promise! And– And taking care of a pet is good for you! Not like, you, specifically, but–”

Raising a hand to silence the boy, Vlad rolled his eyes. “Daniel. I already have a pet. And I’m not convinced that she will get along with this… this.”

“She?” Daniel echoed, eyes blown wide by the revelation. “Wait, did you actually get a cat? That’s great – if you already know how to take care of one pet, surely you can handle Cujo for a couple of days too?”

For a brief moment, Vlad was amazed at how easily Daniel had turned his argument against him. “She’s a cat, Daniel. Surely you’re familiar with the tales of how well cats and dogs get along?”

“Can’t you at least give it a shot?” His eyes were big and wet – like puppy-dog eyes, except that Vlad was a lot more immune to the red eyes of the dog itself. “If it doesn’t work – if Cujo and your cat don’t get along or anything – I’ll come pick him up again! Please, Vlad?”

That… might’ve been one of the first times that Daniel had called him by his actual name instead of Plasmius. Outside of settings where he had to call him Vlad, obviously. The boy… The boy must be very desperate.

He sighed, looking over the ghostly canine again. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. But Daniel–”

The boy stopped his premature cheer. “Yeah?”

“You’ll owe me one.” Vlad locked eyes with the only being in existence that was like him. “I am no fool – even I can see that you will not give up on your family, including your father. But in return for this, let me start training you. Let us quit this silly rivalry.”

Daniel’s eyes went from Vlad to the dog and then back to Vlad. Then he shrugged, almost carelessly, and said, “Sure dude. I never wanted to be enemies anyway. That was all you.”

And then he blinked invisible. A wind swept past Vlad almost immediately after – Daniel had left.

Perhaps… Perhaps something good could come out of this mess.

Of course, while he had considered the possibility that Maddie wouldn’t get along well with the ghost dog, there was another scenario that he hadn’t thought about. Because Maddie didn’t reject the dog, didn’t seem bothered by Cujo’s presence – presumably her familiarity with his own ghost form helped.

No, it was far worse. Maddie and Cujo got along too well. Because cats, as anybody could tell you, were a menace. A lovable menace, but a pain nonetheless. Really, the last thing he needed was for his cat to make friends with a ghost.

Because if you thought that a regular cat could be a pain, well… One with access to ghost powers, even if indirectly, was far worse.

All things considered, it started fairly calm. Maddie kept tailing Vlad everywhere he went. This was normal – and kind of cute, honestly. She enjoyed his presence enough to seek him out, after all. After a lifetime of being avoided, being wanted was foreign to Vlad.

Of course, there were rooms that Maddie wasn’t allowed inside of. Vlad would always close the door when he went there – Maddie didn’t know how to open doors, after all.

He was in the lab. It was one of the few places where Maddie wasn’t allowed to come, despite how much time he spent there. It was simply too dangerous. And, admittedly, working in the lab was a lot easier without a cat getting in his way.

Vlad turned away from his desk for a moment, papers spread all over. He just needed to grab some of his other research.

When he turned back, a fluffy white cat was lying on top of his notes.

“Maddie,” he said, somewhat disgruntled and more than a little surprised. How had she gotten through his door? Even if she had learned how to open doors, his lab was hidden and therefore didn’t have an actual door.

She meowed in response. He gave her a quick pat, muttering under his breath, “How did you even get here.”

A yip from below him startled Vlad, and he backed away a step or two. And sitting there, next to the table, was that damnable ghost dog.

“Oh, of course.” He sighed. The dog must’ve phased Maddie into the lab. “You’re responsible for this, aren’t you?”

The ghost wagged its tail, its mouth stretched in what had to be a doggy smile.

Vlad rolled his eyes, but turned away from the pair of pets again. He had work to do, and for the moment the lab was safe enough for Maddie. Maybe not for the dog, but it seemed that that animal would stick close to either him or Maddie anyway.

And if he had to shoo not one but two animals off of his desk when he turned back… Well, it wasn’t like anybody would know, anyway.

The next time Vlad went to his lab, he activated his ghost shield. He really didn’t want Maddie getting caught up in any experiments.

He thought it was very clever, until he came up a few hours later. There was toilet paper everywhere. Long strings of it, in many places shredded – apparently by both claws and fangs.

Now, Maddie had ravaged toilet paper before. But this had been easy enough to prevent – he just had to develop the habit of closing his bathroom doors. He hadn’t considered that if Cujo could phase Maddie into his lab, then of course the dog could also phase Maddie into his bathrooms.

And apparently the dog had taken the effort of taking the toilet paper out through the closed doors, as well.

A quick inspection revealed that two of the doors had been opened. His third bathroom was still closed, and the damage of that toilet paper roll had been contained.

At least Maddie hadn’t gotten stuck in any of the rooms, like he had feared. That dog was absolutely capable of phasing his cat into a room and then forgetting to take her out again.

Of course, moments later he saw Maddie sprint by, a trail of toilet paper following her. Three steps behind her came the half-expected green canine, as well.

Vlad wished, for a long moment, that he hadn’t accepted Daniel’s request. And then, with a heavy and world-weary sigh, he set out to clean up the mess.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. Not even for that day. Because Vlad had sat down in his living room, intending to enjoy the peace and quiet of a nice evening to himself after a productive day.

Then Maddie meowed from one end of the room.

And then the dog – Cujo – answered with a bark from the other end of the room.

This repeated itself several times over – Maddie would meow and Cujo would bark – over and over and over.

In the end Vlad retreated to his lab to read his book. There would clearly be no peace and quiet for him as long as he was in the same room as the two animals.

Despite what people might expect from his billionaire status, Vlad always made his breakfast himself. In fact, he made most meals himself – he preferred to be alone and in peace. People were just so bothersome.

So he found himself sitting at his kitchen table with a simple breakfast in front of him. To his left, on the table, was Maddie. To his right, also on the table, was Cujo. Neither of the animals were allowed on the table, of course, but they apparently didn’t care.

Vlad attempted to remove the dog, but the moment he looked away Maddie lunged for his breakfast. When he warded her off, Cujo struck instead. Disgruntled, he grabbed his breakfast and left, hoping that that would be last of that.

But that evening he was on the couch with his dinner. Maddie was on the couch next to him. He didn’t know where Cujo was, and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

Until a crashing sound came from a far room.

His eyes snapped in the direction of the sound immediately, and he pushed himself off of the couch to investigate. Then he heard a purring sound coming from behind him.

Whirling around, he spotted Maddie swiping his food. He waved the cat off, realizing that the two must’ve conspired to distract him – and against all odds, it had worked.

Unbelievable. He had been outsmarted by animals.

Maddie, having lost her opportunity, slunk off. Vlad didn’t track where she went. Presumably she was off to meet up with the ghost dog again – or wherever she usually went to mope.

Shattering glass and a wailing cry – Maddie’s.

Swearing, Vlad jumped off of the couch again. He strode in the direction her cry had come from – then paused. Turned around.

Sitting on the couch, eating his damn food, was Cujo. The stupid ghost didn’t even need food – he was doing it just because he was a dog.

Vlad growled, pink ectoplasm sparking around his fists. Cujo seemed to get the message, because he whined and sprinted away – through a wall.

He didn’t pursue – there was no point. Hopefully the animal had learned his lesson now.

Unlikely, but a man can hope, yes?

There were rules. Places where Maddie wasn’t allowed to come. And she knew this, no matter how little she might’ve liked it. The lab, for one, was off-limits. His bedroom was another – he didn’t want her to interrupt his sleep.

Yet somehow, during the night, his bed gained two small lumps of fur.

Vlad squinted at the two – Cujo gave off barely enough glow for him to see by. The dog was laying on the mattress itself, curled up like a regular dog. His eyes – empty and red like Vlad’s own in ghost form – were narrowed but open. That made sense – ghosts didn’t need to sleep. Cujo was simply playing along, or following old habits.

Next to him, on a spare pillow, laid Maddie. She did seem to be asleep, curled in on herself. She looked very comfortable, and Vlad regretted that he had to interrupt her sleep.

But neither of the animals could stay. He knew what cats were like – just because she was well-behaved now didn’t mean it would last.

He scooped the cat off of the pillow, moving towards the door. A short glance – glare – at Cujo assured that the dog followed. Maddie meowed complaintive, but Vlad didn’t let that sway him.

He dropped her outside his room, in the hall. Cujo padded past him, sitting down next to Maddie.

“You two stay out here,” he told them, as if the animals would listen. “And, for the love of everything that is holy, stay out of trouble.”

He closed the door behind him. Then, for good measure, he locked it as well. Just in case either of the pets would figure out how to open doors at some point during the night.

And with a tired sigh, he curled back into his bed.

It wasn’t until several hours later, when he woke with a warm ball of fur pressed against his stomach and a cold one against his chest, that he remembered that doors were useless against these two.

Vlad had an important meeting he had to get to. He had to look impeccable – as put together as usual. Clean, well-made black suit and all. He grabbed his jacket, stuck one arm through the sleeve–

Paused. Took the jacket off again.

It was covered in white fur. This was, unfortunately, somewhat expected. The disadvantages of owning furry animals was that, somehow, their leftover hair would find its way everywhere throughout the house.

He rolled his eyes and flickered the jacket intangible. Maddie’s white hairs fell through it and onto the floor. He would still have to clean it up, but at least they weren’t on his suit anymore.

The jacket went back on. Vlad looked in the mirror, straightening the garment out and shooting his mirror image his best smile.

Then his smile dropped again.

Glowing hairs – green hairs – were scattered all over it. Of course – they were ectoplasmic in origin, and would therefore shift tangibility along with the jacket. But why would a ghost dog still shed its fur?

Vlad grumbled, brushing off the fur to the best of his abilities. Once he could find no more, he left the house. He had to hurry to his meeting, but that was preferable over showing up with green fur all over his coat.

The GIW were ruthless. And, as idiotic as they were, even they would be able to tell that the fur came from a ghost.

When he returned home, Vlad was, once again, exhausted. The GIW were quite possibly the most idiotic people he knew. Almost impossibly worse than Jack Fenton, even. Absolute morons that had somehow banded together in a group even more moronic than the individuals were.

But they possessed potential. Had some brilliant inventions hidden between their FentonWorks rip-offs. And sometimes they got lucky.

And oftentimes they targeted Daniel. Which he had to carefully encourage, but not too much – they could be allowed to hunt the boy, but not hurt him. Not too badly at least. Just like Skulker.

Of course, unlike Skulker, he couldn’t tell the GIW this. He had to nudge them in the right direction.

Either way, he returned home tired. He just wanted to slump down on his couch and enjoy his peace. Perhaps pet his cat if she could be found – if that darned dog hadn’t stolen her away to cause mischief.

Unfortunately, the home that awaited him wasn’t nice. It wasn’t clean or peaceful or any the things he had hoped for.

Things were scattered everywhere. Most of them had been broken – shards of vases and glassware and lord knows what else laid strewn around him. Even the things that weren’t as easily destroyed had clearly been damaged – clawed gouges and bite marks could be spotted.

Bite marks which very clearly weren’t Maddie’s.

That, combined with the fact that many of the things laying broken on his floor had been inaccessible to his cat, led Vlad to realize this; the dog had, once again, struck. Cujo had worked together with Maddie to not only phase her into locked and closer rooms, but to help her reach higher areas she couldn’t normally get to.

Vlad would’ve said that the ghost flew her up, but he admittedly had never seen Cujo fly. But somehow he must’ve boosted Maddie up – or gotten up high himself – because Vlad knew that some of these things had been stored out of reach.

He swore loudly, kicking away some of shards of what appeared to be a glass case. A sharp yip sounded from a few rooms away. It was immediately followed by a meow.

Cujo phased through the wall, Maddie somehow perched on his back. They wandered over to him, blinking large eyes.

Those stupid animals. Why on Earth had he listened to Daniel? Why had he agreed to take in this demonic ghostly canine?

Suddenly Valerie’s hatred made a lot more sense to him.

Vlad woke up tired. He had been woken at some point in the dead of night by Maddie and Cujo. They hadn’t come into his room, but apparently that wasn’t necessary for them to be a bother.

By the sounds of it, Maddie had gotten a playful bout of energy somewhere near 3 in the morning. Cujo, as a ghost who didn’t need sleep, had happily played with her.

Unfortunately, this hadn’t been very quiet.

So, yes. Vlad woke up exhausted. He dreaded the next day – he had nothing planned, but still. He was a billionaire and he was a mayor. He couldn’t take a day off just because his pets – his singular pet and the one he was babysitting – were a nuisance.

And thus he found himself in his living room with a cup of coffee. With a cup of very strong coffee. Sue him, he needed it. Deserved it for putting up with that ghostly canine wrecking ball.

He was, admittedly, considering contacting Daniel to get rid of it again. He hadn’t anticipated how much trouble the dog would get into. How it would sway Maddie to its side.

If he gave in, he would lose his favor over Daniel. But was that really worth all this suffering?

The doorbell rang. It startled Vlad so badly that he almost spilled coffee over himself. Cursing under his breath, he put the mug away and started making his way to the door.

He hadn’t even made it to the hall when the door slammed open. Three men in impeccable white suits stormed inside – all carrying large ecto-weaponry.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he snarled at them, stamping down his temper to the best of his abilities. As exhausted as he was, he had almost given in to the urge to flash his eyes red. Like a child. Like Daniel.

One of the guns turned to him. The other two peeked into the room past him. He wondered why they had come. It couldn’t be that they suspected him of being a ghost – if they had, more than one gun would’ve been aimed at him.

“We’re running an investigation on you and your properties, sir,” the man in the front answered. His gun was still aimed at Vlad, unwavering.

Vlad got a nasty flashback to the time when Daniel had sent the GIW to his Wisconsin mansion. It had been part of their prank war – a low point in Vlad’s life, he had to admit. But that couldn’t be why they were here now. Daniel wouldn’t have called in the GIW if that ghost dog was still around.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked instead, resisted the urge to sneer at the man. Instead he straightened himself out, standing as tall as possible. He had to maintain as much of a stronghold as he could – he couldn’t rely on his ghost powers in this situation.

“We don’t need to answer that.” One of the men had moved past Vlad, carelessly aiming his gun at everything and nothing. “But we have reasonable proof that you are being haunted by a ghost. One, if not more. It is our job to hunt ghosts.”

Vlad shook his head. “Nonsense. Where did you even get such a foolish idea from?”

The third man, the one who hadn’t spoken yet, snorted. Then he flung an arm in Vlad’s direction. He dodged by reflex, but the man hadn’t been aiming for him.

Between his fingers he held a single hair. Green and glowing.

Of course. Of course it would be that cursed dog that screwed things over for him. He should’ve known.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but the whine of a charging ecto-gun shut him up. The man who had passed him had turned around again, his gun now also aimed at Vlad. Even the one that held the hair had his gun in Vlad’s direction.

“So perhaps there is a ghost in my house,” he finally uttered, putting on an unconcerned facade. “But surely there is no need to aim these weapons at me?”

“Maybe not,” the first man conceded with a slight tilt of his head. “But you kept its presence hidden from us. You, Vlad Masters, have no reason to do so.” The gun in his hand gave a whine as it, too, charged up a shot. “Therefore you must be overshadowed, or otherwise influenced by a ghost.”

Well, he supposed that they were mostly right. He was influenced by a ghost. Daniel had, more or less, forced him into taking care of the ghostly canine.

But now he was surrounded by three charging ecto-guns, scrambling to find an excuse. Because if they fired, they would notice that the guns had effect – and that meant that a ghost was involved. And that would lead to them digging and finding Vlad Plasmius – finding half-ghosts in general.

Before Vlad could act, however, a sharp bark came from the hallway deeper into the mansion. Four heads swiveled in that direction.

Standing there was a small green dog. Cujo’s aura flickered. Flared.

Then suddenly the dog wasn’t so small anymore.

The new ghost was enormous. It towered over Vlad – would’ve towered over Jack Fenton, even, the largest man Vlad knew. Its red eyes glowed with anger, the spikes on its collar glinting dangerously in the light.

It growled, baring teeth larger than Vlad’s hand. Then it barked again, far louder this time. The sound echoed throughout the room, drowning out the noise of the charging guns.

And then Cujo leaped. Stormed right into Vlad’s direction – and towards the GIW agents that surrounded him.

A squeak from Vlad’s right, then a clatter as the gun hit the floor. One of the agents fled the scene, leaving his weapon behind.

The other two followed soon after, although they had at least held onto their guns.

Cujo chased them to the door, then stopped. Watched, as if he was making sure that the three wouldn’t return. Then he turned back to Vlad.

The dog towered over Vlad. Briefly, he wondered if Daniel knew the dog could do this. Then he remembered that Daniel had named it Cujo – a name that suddenly seemed a lot more appropriate.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when an enormous purple tongue swept over him. He grimaced, attempting to wipe the worst of the drool off of him.

“Thanks,” he muttered. The dog barked, seemingly more happy. Then with a pop, Cujo returned to his old size.

Vlad supposed that maybe (maybe) this dog wasn’t all that bad.

A glance around the room reminded him of the damage it had caused the previous day.

Even so, he was more than ready for Daniel to return to pick the walking disaster up again.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Hello! So you keep everyone pretty in character, and you seem to understand them really well (In my opinion), so I’m curious- How much do you think it would take for Wanda (And Pietro, I guess) to be on semi-friendly terms with Tony? Would it even be possible?

…oh, boy. Um. This has been sitting in my inbox for a while, because I had a tough time quantifying things, plus didn’t have the time to do it justice before now, but…Okay.

Okay, pull up a chair because this is going to take a while because I know there’s a buttload of very well-researched posts out there but there’s some things I still need to get off my chest when it comes to the Maximoff twins. 

Just as an fyi, though: my take on them’s 100% based on the movies, because my comics knowledge of them is next to nil—I think they’re apparently Jewish, and Romani(?) in the comics and that the writers erased that when they cast the people they did, but that’s about it—and apparently they’re very different in the MCU, which I’m not even caught up on since the last film I saw was Doctor Strange. 

Heads up: this post will not be Maximoff friendly, especially for Wanda, but I’m also doing my best not to bash—more like me lamenting what we could have had, via picking apart my interpretation of their characters. Also features quite a bit of my rambling because this also turned into a meta ‘why I think AoU sucks’ rant, sorry. Under the cut, because it got long and RIP mobile users otherwise.

Now, for me, I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, even if I don’t like them. Try to make an attempt to like them, try to get a feel for their character instead of flattening them…but it feels like a futile endeavor, in this case.

Admittedly, I’m rather biased towards Tony […understatement of the year, probably, he’s the reason I even got into the MCU], so that didn’t help. But…just. 

Okay, taking a step back, I can’t help but feel that AoU was a tire fire on a number of levels. The twins’ entrance in the MCU could not have been handled worse, in my opinion, and the choices made had me gritting my teeth when I watched it. This, coming from someone who liked the Star Wars prequels […that’s a thing for another post, I guess, but even if it was cringey at times it still had its moments]. 

The narrative was a mess, and the way they forced so much of it [hi, Bruce/Natasha ship and obligatory Damsel In Distress tropes] did everyone involved a major disservice, and by introducing the twins the way the writers did actively sabotaged them, in my opinion. 

Because in the cutscene during one of the prior movies, they could’ve introduced them in a far, far better light than what they went with. If the twins had been kidnapped and experimented on by HYDRA preying on the local populace and taking advantage of the teeming number of orphans due to the conflict going on? That, I could stomach. Hell, make up some bullshit backstory of how the Tesseract’s radiation affected people who grew up in a certain radius of some abandoned building if you want an excuse to give them powers if we’re not going the X-Men route, it’s not that hard!

No, instead, the writers made them HYDRA volunteers.

That, I—I can’t. Worst part is, I think I get what the writers might’ve been going, for, but…look. If you want to make an attempt at criticism of American policy via using a fictional country as the staging ground of what seemed to me to be a deja vu of the Soviet-Afghan War, and want to have your heroes come out of that, and keep them sympathetic, do not code them as affiliated with Nazis. 

Because the rest of it? I could almost get. Even if it hurt, seeing them go after Tony like that right off the bat, I could see why. To these people living in a war-torn country, grown up only seeing the bad side of American interventionism their entire lives, I don’t think I would’ve resisted the urge to punch someone who symbolized it either. 

After all, for decades Tony was it, perpetuated the military-industrial complex and took it to new levels, designed bomb after bomb and skewed the balance of power in a huge way. Even if Tony changed tracks, after Afghanistan, and worked to fix it, that doesn’t erase what happened. […plus, y’know, there’s the convenient bomb with his name on it, probably courtesy of Obadiah’s double-dealing.] So, that part, I get. I don’t necessarily like it, but I get it. 

By including HYDRA, however, the writers ensured that 95% of my sympathy vaporized before I had a chance to get attached to them. At the time, my then-optimistic self was still trying to see them in a good light, and…okay, bit of a military history lesson here, for context, as to why I mentally made the connections I did [and why I felt they fell so flat in the movie]. It’s probably me reaching, but this was my thought process for it.

Minor disclaimer: this is just what I remember off the top of my head, so if it sounds incredibly simplistic, that’s why. Apologies if I get anything wrong, by the way.

The Soviet-Afghan War happened in the ‘80s, lasted nearly a decade, and devastated the local populace in a manner not unlike Vietnam. The Soviet Union basically invaded Afghanistan after shit went down in their government, and the locals fought tooth and nail to kick them out. If I remember correctly, it’s been considered the USSR’s Vietnam War, due to that…plus, y’know, the fact that the US sent in their guys to low-key help. Not by sending in troops, mind, but they sent in guys to train up the locals to fight back better. Not sure what else, but I know that part because it ended up biting everyone badly later on, since that war’s also where al-Qaeda got its start, and its training. 

Reason I even brought this up is, Sokovia’s situation to me had a metric fuckton of parallels to that. I probably screwed up on the conflicts the writers were thinking of, but that’s what I was seeing, and to me, it’d make sense then that the twins who grew up in such a place wouldn’t think very highly of the Avengers, or SHIELD, etc. 

…anyway, that’s the implied backstory I picked up on in the movie. From there, makes sense that the twins would reach out to shady groups to get power to fight back, and if it’d been AIM, or literally any group other than neo-Nazis, I feel like it would’ve made them more sympathetic without flattening their characters. 

To me, that was strike one against the twins, in regards to things I can’t forgive. Maybe it’s simplistic of me, but given the shit that’s gone down lately, my tolerance for anything that smacks of Nazis is borderline nonexistent. Sorry not sorry. 

But, removing that element, the twins could’ve been interesting. We could’ve had a story where the Avengers run into people who do not think of them as heroes, and see where that went. Could’ve seen an American-based group deal with people who aren’t friendly, who have a good reason to be that way. […I’ll just ignore the evil AI trope, this is supposed to be a character study not me bashing AoU even more.] 

Removing the HYDRA element, we have the Maximoff twins: 

Pietro, who’s bitterly sarcastic and fiercely protective of what family he has left after essentially growing up in a war zone. Pietro, who’s speed means he can raise hell in the blink of an eye, made himself a nuisance because of it more than once throughout the film. Pietro, who we only know in the the one movie he shows up, since he gets tragically killed off in the end.

And then there’s Wanda.

…okay. Um. Here’s the thing: I’ve only seen her in two movies, and AoU was a train wreck and Civil War was a tire fire. 

So.

This is my perception of Wanda: 

Once you remove the ‘hey let’s flatten our female characters this round!’ lens the writers apparently had going on during AoU, as well as me removing the HYDRA element […which, for me, is absolutely necessary], and you have Wanda Maximoff: a very, very driven young woman, who’s been [understandably] angry at the world for the better part of her life and only now has the power to fight back. Wanda, who’s equally protective of her brother since he was all she had left, and whose loss was devastating on a number of levels because of that. Wanda, who now has to pick up the pieces of her life and carry on, and deal with the huge burden of responsibility that comes with a power as potentially insidious as hers. 

For the most part, throughout AoU, that was the impression I got from her. Pietro I’d actually liked because of his snark, since the start; Wanda, on the other hand, I’d actively disliked [yo, triggering someone with PTSD? Not cool] but had been steadily warming up to—until Johannesburg. 

For me, the dealbreaker with MCU’s Wanda was when she took the biological equivalent of a nuke, and aimed it at the largest civilian population she could find. She could’ve turned the Hulk against the Avengers, could’ve had him running off in a random direction and thus forced the team to chase after him in the most high-stakes game of keep-away there ever was, but no. 

No, instead Wanda unleashed the Hulk on the biggest city in South Africa. 

I mean, taking a step back, I can see why the writers went there: this is an action movie, after all, so why not throw in some hero-fighting-hero scenes? But in-universe, that choice was what cinched it for me, that this was not a hero in any meaning of the word. If the writers wanted her to be one, they’d need to throw in a redemption arc, after Johannesburg—and they didn’t. 

No apology, no acknowledgment, not a word of responsibility, like it never happened. 

…and then there’s Civil War to consider. Where the writers butchered her character along with everyone else’s, because now they’re calling the young woman who grew up in a war zone, who knowingly and willingly underwent experimentation for the chance to fight back, who lost everything and still carried on–a child. The sheer lack of agency they removed from her was an insult in and of itself, in my opinion. That, and the fact that apart from Natasha [who’s got her own thing going on, but I digress], she’s the only non-American on the team. 

Which leads me to yet another opportunity missed: the perspective Wanda had to offer, because of that. Having grown up the way she did, in a country screwed over by others’ interventionism [hi, Stark weapons, what’re you doing here in Sokovia?] she would’ve had a very different opinion on how to do things than a team that, for the most part, was born and raised in the US, with all the biases that includes. Where the rest of the team’d be more inclined to just rock in to other countries without hesitation, Wanda’s knee-jerk reaction to hearing that would be a “fuck no”, for instance, and…um. 

Okay, irony is, I can’t help but think that Wanda, as a non-US national, would’ve been 100% on board with the idea of ‘hey, this US-based team can’t just barge into other countries and fuck shit up, cut it out’. Which, incidentally, is what the Accords were about in the MCU […but that’s a rant for another post], even if Ross was undoubtedly angling for something shady when he was presenting them the way he did. 

…I rambled, didn’t I. Oops. 

So, as for the latter part of your ask: 

what would it take for her [and Pietro, had he lived] to get along with Tony?

In canon, I find it highly unlikely. As in, the world’s more likely to end, and apparently something like that happens in Infinity Wars if the spoilers I’ve glimpsed are anything to go by? [Nowhere near caught up means I have no clue what’s going on anymore, and some people don’t tag their stuff which leaves me even more confused, but—rambling again, oops.]

As for in any fics I’d write, with my take on their characters: 

Okay, for that to happen, we’d have to go wildly AU. Me being me, I’m removing the HYDRA element […’nuff said], and Johannesburg didn’t happen either, so what you have left is the Maximoff twins, and the guy who embodied everything they hated about the US/the world in general, even if he was doing everything in his power to change. 

Suffice it is to say, it’d be a rocky start, but. 

But, I’d like to think they’d eventually get along, somehow. Slowly, and painfully, but over time the twins’d realize that Tony’s actually human, and not an amalgamation of everything they hated, not the boogeyman they grew fearing. Would see that he’s just one man, and a flawed one, struggling with severe PTSD […I’d like to think Wanda’d feel pretty bad about triggering him the way she did, later on, but that’s just me] and doing his best to atone for being the Merchant of Death. Would see that he’s just a man, doing his best to make the world a better place—the twins’d realize it’s not an act pretty quick, and from there, they’d have common ground.

Don’t get me wrong, there’d be plenty of mishaps along the way, but. 

Over time, and with Tony asking—and actually listening to them, taking them seriously when they give their opinions on what they think about how to approach something, instead of dismissing them because of their age—they’d start to warm up to each other. Because at heart, Tony’s an ally, and trying to be an even better one, and I’d like to think the twins would pick up on that pretty quick. And Tony, between his guilt complex and seeing what the twins have done with the tools they’ve had at hand, would reciprocate, and forgive Wanda for doing what she did once she apologized […again, my opinion of triggering people with PTSD rears its head].

Or, worst-case scenario I can think of: the twins tolerate him, because he’s trying to be an ally and even if they might never like him personally, they can respect that. 

To me, though, this feels a bit static for their characters, especially given how dynamic we’ve seen them in the past [going from antagonist to Avenger in the same movie, anyone?], so I’d rather see the one where character growth happens instead.

Incidentally, your ask also brought to mind a scene I’ve low-key wanted to see but haven’t yet: one way I can see Tony and the twins bonding is via very, very dark humor. Because Tony was raised to be the heir of a weapons company, and the twins grew up in a war-torn country, there’d be plenty of morbid humor to go around, weirding out almost everyone else on the team [barring Natasha]. 

Specifically, something along these lines, during a time when things are still pretty rocky:

“Okay, guys, I know you hate my guts because of that bomb, but you’ll be pleased to hear that something similar happened to me a while back.”

“…go on.”

“So I’m in Afghanistan, headed back from a presentation, when the convoy I’m in gets attacked, we’re getting shot at with my own guns. But that’s not the best part, even—not five minutes later, I get a bomb with my name on it. Literally, I’m not even kidding here.” Tony said, his hand drifting to his chest unconsciously. “That’s where the shrapnel came from, by the wa—oh, hey Steve…why’re you looking so pale? Geez, take a few deep breaths or something, that’s—um, guys? Give me some space, will you?”

aka the twins [and the team] get a sneak peek at Tony’s tire fire of a mental state and his tendency to cope via joking, and realize that yes, he is legitimately that self-deprecating. If the twins didn’t start to ease up on their dislike before, they do now, if only because it’s not worth directing their anger at a guy who hates himself even more than they possibly could. Waste of energy, that. 

also, afterwards, cue a lot of bonding over that sort of thing, such as hating Hammer Industries for doing what the Merchant of Death used to do, and quite a few brainstorming sessions about how to approach the military-industrial complex, etc. 

tl;dr: my take on the Maximoff twins in the MCU’s mostly had me Photoshopping my headcanons into where they’re supposed to fit, due to a myriad of reasons; AoU and CW did them a huge disservice, but apart from the remarkably bad writing, they had a lot of potential. My take on them would’ve had the twins warming up to Tony eventually, realizing he’s trying to be an ally, but said take would also have gone wildly AU not ten minutes into their introduction, so. 

[eastergrass]

Digit

I.

Marie was on the downstairs couch, a game of solitaire unfolding on the coffee table. She had made a pot of coffee midway through The Today Show. She drank it all and chased with a pinch of Antony’s weed. She sat crosslegged, slowly losing to herself in front of the muted television.

The house was remarkably unchanged, but Marie herself was a bit different from the last time she called it home. She was quieter. She had started watching a lot of television, and had begun losing energy she didn’t realize she had. She lost touch with the global tragedies she used to worry about. She didn’t read. She heard only other peoples’ music. She was 27, buzzing on her mom’s couch, waiting for her little brother to come home so she had someone to talk to. She also hadn’t won solitaire in three days.

She decided to clean a dewy-bottomed pineapple. It left a print on the counter from sweating on the granite. She found it was easy to be centered by these methodical tasks. Marie removed the crown. She lopped off the sweet-smelling bottom. The knife had a heavy, professional feel to it. Her parents always liked the finer things. The sticky juices spread out, seeping over, under, and into the teak board.

Time passed. She had expected someone to be home by sundown, but this didn’t seem like much of a possibility any longer. The heat of summer began to die off. She carried a grocery bag filled with the bits of pineapple skin and the spiky green dome out to the trash bins. A recent invasion of fruit flies was attributed to Marie’s laziness and she made sure to be extra clean. Also Thursday was trash day, so she needed it out tonight.

II.

There were tall pines, bare to the top. Like a Christmas tree, teetering. The bins were beside the garage in a latticed alcove. The arbor, her mother called it. The smell of suffocated trash snuck out the lid before she could even open it.

Removing the lid, she was hit: stagnant rainwater, forgotten produce. There was something less familiar, though. What caught her attention was the bag at the top of the trash pile. A plastic take-out bag covered with purple orchids, with scrawling gold type: Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

She was confused as to how someone ordered what seemed to be Thai or Vietnamese food without informing her. Antony didn’t have the money. Of course, Adrianne would have gotten her food, but then talked about the sodium content. The few leaves that had turned and fallen skittered in the driveway, clacking like dry dice.

A dismal curiosity got the better of her, and she bent into the putrid plastic maw. She tore open the sack, and a corner of a dishtowel stuck out. Marie lifted the bag out of the canister, into the darkening evening. It spun, dangling from the trussed handles. Fully removing its load, she began to discover the red. She reached some parchment paper at the center of the towels, with deep dark stains. She knew it was blood. You! the bag accused.

She heard the imperceptible hum of her mother’s mint-green hybrid pulling up the lengthy driveway. Marie tucked the bloodstained paper wads into the pockets of her sweatshirt, and turned to walk toward those crystal-clear headlights that cut the now fully-realized darkness.

Later on, her mother accosted her while she watched the 6:00 news. “Do you remember those anti-drug commercials, with the girl melting into the couch?” Adrianne perched one hand on her unmotherly hip, titled at a calculating angle. Marie stared at the television.

“You look like that.” She spun into the kitchen. A cork was drawn from bottle of Pinot Grig.

To be fair, she was correct. However, no mother should address her daughter in the way Adrianne had been for the past 27 years. She imagined her making snide remarks all her life, leaning over the edge of her crib and critiquing her large ears and thick hair. What a little gremlin, she’d cackle, tilting back her shock of black hair.

The hard-nosed news caster looked back at her from the flatscreen television set, a blurry cityscape green-screened behind his steely shoulders. “A true tragedy, we can only pray those responsible are brought swiftly to justice.” He looked off-screen, and began to say something else, when the program cut to commercials.

III.

It was a finger. Wrapped in parchment paper, wound up in Williams-Sonoma dishtowels. It was pale, yet bruised. The pale parts were the color of young ginger. The dark was a dirty purple. The finger nail seemed like it may fall off. She held it gently in the lamplight of her bedroom desk, smoke swirling out of the glass pipe she stole from Antony’s room. He hadn’t noticed, and that was a month ago. For the first time in her life Marie was afraid of her mother. Her bedroom, which Marie had not seen the inside of since she returned home, lay at the other

end of the unnecessarily large home. She was probably passed out, alone, in the bed she shared with Saul when he wasn’t away.

Marie ate a chunk of pineapple. It occurred to her that pineapple did, in fact, taste somewhat like a blend of pine needles and apples. She also considered the possibility that Antony was responsible for this. Her head nodded down, her eyelids flickered.

It lay on a meticulously folded edition of The Hartdon Bugle, occupying the spotlight of her bowed lamp. She thought it might at any minute remember where it was supposed to be, and limp off like Thing in The Addams Family, down some dusty black and white corridor and offstage. But it never moved, which is what bothered her most. Marie had always watched movies and television and wondered why nobody had contacted the police, who she assumed would arrive promptly and sort the whole thing before any damage was done. This didn’t make for good television, she knew.

She now wondered, rather abstractedly, who this finger might belong to. The coarse and bloody hairs, gritty with blood and struggle, lay somewhat flat and extremely disheveled. What would lead Adrianne to do this? Was someone else responsible, and if so, why did Marie assume her mother was?

The limp and mottled index finger – or was it a ring finger? – reminded Marie of something she once threatened to do. She had come home to live with her family after she left a man she had been with for five years. “I can do better,” is what she said.

She stayed up waiting for Antony, watching Law & Order re-runs. Each episode began with the discovery of the corpse. Somebody jogging through the park sees a foot sticking out from under a shrub. Some city workers dredge an urban mummy from a storm drain. A man playing fetch with his dog sees it running toward him with a severed leg.

Marie often found herself dissecting plot lines of T.V. shows. Back in Indiana, she was co-owner of a three-person company that built sets for community theater productions. She had always hoped she’d end up working for an NBC show or anything low-brow and high-paying. Many of the sets the company built were for plays in which people were murdered. She had long ago picked up the plot devices. “Let’s get this to the lab!” a tired detective barked down the alleyway.

IV.

A car pulled into the driveway. Self-consciously slow-moving and quiet, as if the vehicle itself were ashamed of being out so late. Antony snuck through a side door, which he closed with a click and a whisper. He must have heard the television, because he came right into the basement.

“Sis.”

“Antony. We need to talk.”

Marie and Antony stood next to the bins. They had disabled the security light, so when they went out to the arbor they didn’t attract any undue attention from their mother. Antony had laughed when she first told him the story, but stopped after he saw it himself. They passed a crooked joint between them, rolling clouds of smoke into the chilly air.

“It wasn’t her. She’s crazy, but …” he shook his head. “It wasn’t mom.”

Marie didn’t say anything, she just nodded. Antony crouched down around the trashcan, shining the flashlight on his phone throughout the gravel and on the siding of the garage. Perhaps looking for some blood-spray, or ransom note, or a wedding band that would solve the whole thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an overwrought expression of tiredness and anxiety.

Marie heaved a foggy sigh. “God damn it.”

That night, she wrapped the finger back up in its packaging, and put it in a gallon Ziploc bag, and placed it in the freezer of the mini-fridge upstairs that her mother never used. A hole burned in her gut. She went to bed without brushing her teeth. Her mouth tasted like stale pot smoke and a chunk of pineapple was wedged in her incisors.

V.

The next morning, Marie woke up to an empty house. Downstairs, a cooling pot of coffee waited. A note from her mother read:

Marie -

I made you coffee! Although, if you go for a run (which I pray you do) drink it afterward, in case of a BM. Could you put the bins at the curb? Get Up, Get Out, and GET SOMETHING.

wait until sundown to self-medicate.

– Mother

Friday turned out similar to Thursday. Marie sunk into the couch. Her left eye twitched, and she quickly knit her brow to correct this spasm. These eyebrows dominated her face. Her ex compared them to an actress’s in a way that raised questions. She heard the garbage truck doing its routine outside, and discreetly parted two of the venetian blinds to watch the arm dump the cans into the belly. She sank further into the couch, flexing her softening muscles inside the sweatsuit she wore the day before.

They had a nice dinner that night. The bulbs above the table hung from thick cords attached to the rafters at odd intervals: spreading like the legs of a giant spider. New houses can have ghosts as well as the old ones. They ate the leg of a lamb, smeared with an emerald blend of minced herbs. Marie ate pistachios out of a black bowl and threw the shells on her empty plate.

Antony, regardless of what he did in his free time, was actually a rather diligent student. Marie forgot exactly what they were celebrating, but all three of them were proud of his achievement. At one point Marie watched as her mother’s tight face softened in the lamplight, her elbows resting on the table, her birdlike hands clasped in an unlikely pose. For a moment, she thought she had imagined tears filling Adrianne’s eyes.

“It’s a nice, nice night. I don’t have to worry.” Adrianne went to bed shortly after letting that one slip.

VI.

Marie couldn’t find the moon. The wind blew cold from the far-off river, booming up through the pines. She looked up, and couldn’t distinguish the clouds from the sky. Depending on where she focused it could go either way.

She was sitting in what they called “Indian-style” when she was a kid. They probably didn’t call it that anymore. Across the sleeping yard, the snuffed security light was unable to betray her cautious movements. She was digging deep with a garden trowel. The earth would freeze up in about a month, so she had to do it now. The finger was in a Mason Jar, floating in a recipe for an all-purpose preservative she found online. She added a few sprigs of dill for a laugh.

Marie remembered burying a cat slightly deeper in the woods when she was seventeen. Adrianne and Saul had helped dig, as she stood by letting out the last of her tears. It was autumn then too, and she remembered the stillness of the pines and the golds and blushing reds of the oak leaves. Frowzy was about to have a bit of company, but just a bit.

She made sure she was right on the edge of the tree-line, at the foot of the sole paper birch, so she could remember the exact spot if she ever had to retrieve it. She caught the sloshing jar in the light of her cellphone one more time, the bobbing finger catching itself in the vortex of dill and brine. She set it gently into the soft, cold crater and began to fold it into the earth. When she was done, she built a cairn. The clouds separated themselves from the sky and exposed her to moonlight.

[hiddlestoned4ever]

Playdate (3) Tom Hiddleston x reader

Part 3/? (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: None other than some Hiddleston romance

Tags: @markusstraya @true-queen-of-mischief

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

You’ve been driving for half an hour already. Looking over your shoulder, you can see Bobby sleeping in the cage. “He seems to be handling to be in a car easy. When Shadow was a puppy, he complained all the time, he didn’t like it at all.”

With a quick glance up in the little mirror at the top of the front window, Tom can’t see your dog. “Doesn’t seem to be troubling him now.”

“No, luckily it worn off. Now he runs out to the car when I open the door after picking up my car keys, afraid he has to stay behind,” you chuckle.

The two hours go by very fast, probably because Tom is such a good company, and you keep up a conversation all the time.

When you get real far away from the civilization as more nature surrounds you, Tom glances shorty over to your side. “Any clues on where we’re going?”

“This isn’t the part where you drag me deep into the woods to kill me, is it?”

Tom burst out laughing. “You’ve seen too many movies.”

He turns the car to the right to a smaller path and four seconds later, a wooden cabin comes in sight. It’s surrounded by trees so it’s concealed from any neighbors.

“Wow, it’s beautiful. Is it your parents’?”

“Yes, we bought it when I was six. I’ve spent many weekends and holidays here.”

After parking the car, you let the dogs out freely because Shadow won’t go anywhere and Bobby has grown so attached to him - and definitely Tom - so the chances of him running off is quite low. If not an animal comes by.

Tom quickly carries the baggage inside while you wait by the car. When he comes back, he shows you to a path behind the cabin as you’ve decided to let the dogs go running for a while.

You keep walking until the path leads you out of the forest. Before you now is a cliff with a stunning view. Down below there’s a lake and some more trees with mountains in the far distance.

“I thought you would like it. Lucky the fog relieved otherwise we wouldn’t be able to see much. Looking up, you narrow your eyes by the warm sunlight.

“It’s beautiful,” you reply.

Shadow and Bobby keep their distance from the edge and wait for you to keep moving.

“Perhaps we should head back. We’ve already been walking over half an hour and I believe someone is getting hungry,” Tom says, turning over to the dogs.

While walking back, Tom is unimaginable close to you, first thinking it’s because the path isn’t that wide, but when it does and he’s still so close, you come to mind that there might be another reason. Your arms touch for almost each step and only that makes your heart beat faster.

When you get back, the dogs enter the cabin first once Tom has opened the door. The first thing he does is to take Bobby’s bowl and fill it with water.

In the meantime, you take a good look around. As the outside, the walls on the inside are also of the typical wood type cabins have. The room is both kitchen and living room, just the fit size to be a cabin. A dark brown couch that’s big enough for two, a matching armchair to its left, TV on a little counter by the wall. There’s also a fireplace on the other side of the room, carpets almost all over the floor, a bookshelf with lots of books - obviously - and a guitar!

“You alright?”

Tom’s voice that suddenly appears right behind startles you, making a chuckle come from him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tilting your head just a bit, you meet his blue eyes. “You were so quiet, I just had to check.” His voice is now softer, his eyes scanning your face.

“Just admiring the view,” you explain with a tender smile, meaning him right now. He smiles back as if he knows it and lays a hand on the smaller of your back.

“I’ll get started on the dinner. You can use the shower if you want. It’s just through there,” he says and points to an opening in the wall. “First door ahead. Towels and everything you need is in the cabinets under the sink.” He steps back to the counter and takes out some groceries from the fridge.

“Thanks,” you reply shortly, grab your bag and leaves him and the dogs to it. Although, Shadow follows you to see where you’re going and Bobby tags along with his close friend. Tom looks over his shoulder and the sight of you leaving with your two four legged friends following you like a shadow makes him lift up the corners of his lips.

Around fifteen minutes later, you come back into the main room. The fireplace is on going and you’re instantly met with the warmth. You also hear music that’s on a calmly low volume, a country song playing at the moment. Shadow is lying two meters away from Tom while Bobby is sitting up close on his owner’s other side, watching his every move. The actor is currently taking a pot off the stove and putting it down on a trivet.

Leaning against the frame that separates this room and the hall you just came from, you decide to take in the sight for a bit. That is, until he’s suddenly speaking and you can practically see the smirk on his face.

“Enjoying the view again?”

“Do you have eyes in the back of your neck or something?” you ask back, now walking up to him. He’s laughing and about to say something when he turns around but instead he finds himself staring at you. The nicer outfit you took with you is a white short dress with blondes from the middle where they cover a little opening on the dress right below your chest. The blondes then continue the rest of the way down. You decided to drop the high heels so you’re just walking barefoot.

You tilt your head while asking, “Enjoying the view?”

“Seems to be question of the day.” His smile has grown bigger. You both keep looking each other in the eyes. Now that his beard is gone, it’s easier to get your gaze drawn down to his lips, and for a split second, you let it happen.

“I can take over,” you tell him after awkwardly clearing your throat.

With very slow steps, he comes closer, eyes on yours and still the big smile. You stand still, eyeing him. When you’re shoulder to shoulder, he leans down to whisper in your ear and the gesture makes your heart skip a beat.

“You look ravishing.”

The way he says it is completely different to the generous Tom he usually is.

He leaves the room and you carry on with the food. It’s not that much left to do other than wait for it to finish in the oven.

It can’t have been much more than ten minutes before you suddenly feel a hand on your left hip and see Tom coming on your right. You can smell the fresh scent of shampoo and his cologne.

“Smells good,” he comments, removing his hand and dropping a smile down to you.

“Yes, you do,” you half smile without looking at him but at the napkins you’re folding.

“I do, don’t I?” he jokes and takes the plate - with the napkins on top - to put them on the table.

You turn after him, seeing he has black trousers and socks, and white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Both clothings sit perfect on his body, maybe a bit too perfect  

Damn that back...that ass…

Luckily, you’ve looked away before he turns so he doesn’t catch your stare. He comes back up to carry more over to the table and that’s when you see the tights clothes on the front part. The shirt is open in the neck and it and the trousers show his figure very well. You knew before you met him the first time that he was handsome but God… he is handsome alright.

From behind you, Bobby comes trotting up to him to see what he’s doing.

“Are you hungry, pal?” he asks, letting him rest his forepaws on his legs. As an answer, Bobby wags his tail and runs back to the counter, looking up then back at Tom.

“I can find their food,” you say and go to find Shadow’s bowl and food.

And when the dogs have gotten their food, the two of you sit down for your own meal.

*  *  *

“I have a question,” you say when your in the end of the dinner. Tom puts both elbows on the table and covers his fist with his other hand. “That guitar over there...” you point at it with your fork, “...is that yours?”

“Yes, it’s mine,” he answers with a smile on the nap. You lift your left eyebrow instead of asking him right out. “I haven’t played in a while,” he tells you as a warning joke if he might be bad at it.

“I’d love to hear some,” you say softly. “Please?” He looks at you for a few seconds, then he removes his arms from the table and gets up. Your lips part in a bigger smile as you follow him with your wine glass in your hand.

On the way, he turns off the music that’s playing and picks up the guitar then you both sit down on the couch. Tom keeps his legs spread so he can fit it on his lap while you put both legs under you and your elbow on the backrest, resting your head in your hand. It looks like he’s about to start but then he chuckles.

“Any wishes?” he asks.

“I loved you as Hank Williams.”

Tom seems to be thinking as he makes an “ehh…” noise and bites his lip, although it’s barely visible to you. “Hold that thought,” he then says and gets up, leaving the guitar in his seat.

You watch him as he leaves out of your sight, the two dogs also being on watch.

What is he up to now?

“How’s this?” he says right before he comes into sight. And when he does, you let out a laugh. On his head, he now has a white cowboy hat.

“Wow! Is that yours too?”

“My father’s actually, but I’ve used it a couple of times.” He comes back around, lifts up the guitar and sits back down. “Alright, Hank Williams, here we go.”

And so he begins to play and sing.

“Why don’t you love me like you used to do? How come you treat me like a worn out shoe? My hair is still curly and my eyes are still blue. Why don’t you love me like you used to do? I ain’t have no lovin like a hugging and a kissing In a long, long while. We don’t get near her, fur her, closer than a country mile.

Why don’t you spark me like you used to do?Say sweets nothings like you used to do. I’m the same old trouble that you’ve always been through. Why don’t you love me like you used to do?”

This is just the most perfect date you’ve ever been on: a cozy cabin with the beautiful countryside as view, dimmed lights, delicious food, wine, singing and music, and the most beautiful gentleman you could ever dream of. You find yourself completely drowned in him. How the masters to play the guitar, the way his left shoulder goes up and down in the rhythm to the music, and his voice…

After finishing on the second part of the song, he exhales happily. “Can’t believe I remembered how to play it.”

“Wow,” you were supposed to say something else, or more, but the live performance you just got literally blew your mind.

“You liked it then?”

“Liked? Tom that was wonderful! You could have a concert.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles while speaking. “But I think I’ll just sing on my free time or when it’s required for a role.”

“Yeah, makes it more special,” you reply and get a warming smile in return. He sets the guitar down so it’s resting against the side of the couch. Next, he presses play on the little remote and the music starts playing again. The song that comes on is a slow one. He takes off the cowboy hat and puts it on the table.

“I think the food has had time to sink, so how about a dance?” He holds up his palm to you.

Can it be more perfect?

“Would love to.”

Taking his hand, which is warm and soft, yet firm, he leads you around the couch because there’s more space on the floor there. “Have you ever danced a waltz before?”

“With my dad when I was a child,” you tell him. “I used to stand on his feet.”

Tom hums and it comes deep within his throat which gives it a lot more sexy noise. “I find the waltz an amazing and powerful dance. It’s quite...sexy.” His lips go up in a smirk when he says that last word. “It’s very intimate…” While he says that, his free hand goes around your back. “Face to face…”  and then he pulls you to him, closing the gap between you. It causes your free hand to grab the arm that goes around you. “...chest to chest.”  Slowly, you watch as you run your hand further up until it’s on his shoulder before moving your eyes to his. “You can feel each other.” And yes you can. As you’re breathing, you feel his chest rise and sink against yours. “Smell each others breaths.” He then takes a step forward with his left leg so you’re “forced” to take a step back. The waltz have started and he moves you both around in slow circles.

“The only way to not lose balance is to look into the eyes of the partner, and it becomes a very intimate thing.”

Let’s just say you’re very happy that he’s holding you because otherwise, you’re sure that hearing him say that - in the way he said it - would make you fall on the spot.

The next minute or so, you keep gazing into each other's eyes as he said without saying anything and just enjoying the moment. And it sure is intimate. You’re certain that he at one point pressed you even closer without getting your legs tangled.

“Thank you for doing that,” you say after a while and nod in the direction of the couch. “Your voice is very… enchanting. And not just when you sing.”

“I’m glad you like it because I plan to use it more than enough tonight.”

“I don’t think I could ever get enough of it.”

When he smiles, his head lowers at the same time so his eyes are almost on level with yours. Right when you think he’s about to kiss you, he takes you by surprise by spinning you halfway around and pull you back so your back crashes against his solid chest. His head is on your right so you turn yours in that direction. He smiles one of his more innocent smiles now and his hand that’s on your waist, he uses his thumb to stroke you.

“You amaze me,” he mumbles, his lips almost touching the side of your forehead. His shoulder is right behind you so you take the chance and lean your head back against it and since your head is turned to the side, your face bury in the hook of his neck.

“I amaze you?” you ask almost amused.

“You find that funny?” he smiles and makes a chuckling “hm” sound.

“Maybe not,” you reply. His hand on your waist, move up to stroke your cheek. The feeling of his fingers against your skin and the fact that your whole body is leaning against him, make you a bit tired. You’re sure that if you close your eyes, you could eventually drift off to sleep.

“You know…” Tom starts after half a minute or so. “...we still have dessert.”

Lifting your head, you turn around, his hand still holding yours. “Really? What kind?”

“Trifle. I hope you like strawberries.”

He lets go of your hand and heads over to the fridge. While he does that, you look around and get a big smile on your face.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, but loud of enough for him to hear you. You turn to him. “Look at those two.” Nodding over to the other side of the room, Tom sees Shadow lying in a dog bed and Bobby curled up between his four legs. They’re both asleep. Both you and Tom grab your phones and snap pictures of them.

* * *

[tyrustrash]

Summary of chapters 1-8: TK comes from an abusive home and struggles opening up to his roommates, Leon and Layla. He thinks Leon will be the typical straight guy he had to deal with in high school, but TK eventually comes out when he is proven wrong. During a Zumba class with Layla, TK learns to try new things because he’ll never know what he’ll enjoy. Along the way in his college experience, he meets Orion, Ricky, and Kyle, a group of friends that seem odd. After Orion and Ricky have a huge fight during Greek Week on campus, Orion moves into TK’s dorm to avoid sharing a room with Ricky. When the roommates get high, TK starts showing his feelings for Orion and the others pick up on his crush. TK learns that Orion was responsible for the car accident that gave Kyle severe brain damage. During their time together, TK starts thinking about his crush on him but doesn’t want to do anything about it because Orion is straight, and he just recently broke up with his girlfriend. He decides to step out of his comfort zone to impress Orion by getting a tattoo. Other information that might be useful: Regina and Kyle are dating, Layla and Regina are mortal enemies, TK is out to only Leon, Layla, and Orion.

 9. Dark Angel

           My first Halloween experience is something that I’m not prepared for. Growing up, my family never allowed me or Brighton to celebrate it because father didn’t want us to have any fun, or that it’s a Devil’s holiday, or whatever excuse he gave. To make up for it, Brighton would buy the two of us bags of candy and we would watch the Disney Channel Halloween movies because I was too young to watch the actual scary movies.

           We’re at this rich kid’s mansion and it’s already a mess. The night is dark with only the laser beams lighting up the outside. The music seems to be on a shuffle of the worst dance music, which probably doesn’t matter because most people will be focused on getting drunk or laid. There are piles of plastic cups and beer cans in the yard. There’s a girl being carried out by her friends because she’s passed out from drinking too much.

When we enter the house, there are more lights thanks to the disco balls and strobe lights. I notice that everyone from the campus is here, even Bubbles, who is dressed like Taylor Swift. I notice Ricky, in a terrible mafia boss outfit, trying to get girls. The only person I don’t see is Kyle, which is understandable. Orion can’t be here because he says he has assignments to do.

I turn to Leon and Layla and admire their costumes. Leon is in a skin-tight black latex catsuit, which includes a tail and a pair of cat ears. The suit fits him so well that it outlines all his features, including the parts of the lower half of his body. Layla is dressed as Harley Quinn from the Suicide Squad movie with the bat as a prop. She’s been using the bat as a dancing partner, which makes the others watch out.

My costume is an elegant white suit that has sparkles of glitter that shimmers when light hits it. I have a pair of angel wings attached to the jacket. The wings are made of the realistic prop feathers from the theatre department that are attached to plastic wiring. I’m also wearing a mask identical to the one Hilary Duff wears in A Cinderella Story, one of my favorite movies.

I walk around a bit before heading into the kitchen to get something to drink. Different brands of beer are covering the island and none of them seem good. I don’t care for the taste of beer and would rather enjoy a Seagram. I open the fridge and I’m not surprised to see that it’s mostly vodka and tequila.

“Looking for something?”

I turn around and see a guy wearing a black version of my costume. His entire suit looks like it’s made of the most expensive silk. It’s plain, yet charming. His wings appear to be a mix of angel and crow. His mask screams nothing but satisfaction from a BDSM night of fun. His slick back hair finishes the costume as a nice touch.

I shut the fridge and lean against the nearby counter. He has this aura that pulls me in. I can’t describe it, but I know I don’t have anything to worry about because I’m too busy swooning over him. I kind of think he’s sexy, even though a good bit of his face is covered.

“Just for something better to drink. I don’t like beer, or any hard stuff.”

“There’s wine in the top right cupboard, next to the oven.”

I open the cupboard and there’s an arrangement of different kinds of wine. My fingers graze the labels trying to find the right one, even though I’ve never had wine. I choose one of the last ones and show it to him.

“Is Pink Moscato any good?”

“How about we find out.” His voice and charisma are so striking that I can’t believe I’m about to drink with him. He grabs two wine glasses from under the island and takes the bottle and pours.

“Is that enough?” I ask while looking at my nearly full glass. I take it from him, along with grabbing the bottle, and go back to the counter and lean against it. “Don’t you think it’s too much?”

“You seem like you can handle it. Besides, it’s wine. You’ll need a lot to feel a buzz.”

I spin the glass a little before raising it to my lips. I hesitate for a second but start drinking when he gives me a comfortable head nod. It tastes semi-sweet as it goes down easily. I can’t stop drinking. I pick up the bottle and pour me some more.

“Woah,” he says while laughing. “Slow down, tiger.”

“I’m an angel,” I say childishly with a smirk.

“Sure as hell ain’t acting like one.”

He smiles as he comes towards me. The way he walks exudes swagger. His hips swerve in a motion that get me hypnotized and thinking what else he can do with his hips. He adjusts the cuffs of his jacket and I can only imagine what else he can do with his hands. When he gets barely inches away from me, I don’t know what’s going to happen. However, I do know that I want him to be closer.

He presses his chest on mine as he reaches over me to grab another bottle. I’m pleasured by taking in the scent of his Eternity by Calvin Klein cologne. He has taste, but I’ll forever prefer the American Eagle fragrances. His shirt lifts when he reaches, allowing me to see the waistband and some of his American Eagle Pride boxer briefs. My God. He just got even more attractive.

A guy in his underwear has always been my biggest turn on, but I never got this turned on, or turned on at all because I’ve never experienced anything other than when I was fourteen, and that’s still a confusing time. The closest that I’ve been was watching all the videos that I found online. Seeing that it’s Pride themed gives me reassurance. Everything about this sends blood rushing through my body.

My hand starts shaking and I accidentally grab his shirt and pull it down to cover up his underwear. I gasp when I realize what I did. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s alright,” he tells me as he slightly backs up, a new bottle of Pink Moscato in hand. “You can do whatever you want. It’s a party after all.”

I smirk. “But I barely know you. Hell, I just met you.”

“We can get to know each other.” He bites on his bottom lip and it’s enough to make me quiver. “There’s a room in the back that we can go to for some privacy. Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

I don’t know what’s coming over me. Maybe it’s the wine already taking its effect. Maybe it’s the thrill of our identities being a mystery that’s making this more exciting. But I take the risk of being bolder than I have ever been. Remembering Layla’s advice, I take the chance to venture out and do something that I have never done. I hope this plays out well.

I nod and say, “Only if we take things slow.”

He softly smiles as he grabs the first bottle and heads out. I follow him after chugging the rest of what is in the glass. When we go through the main room where people are, I glimpse at Leon and Layla on the dance floor. They see me going to the back with the guy and they both give different reactions. Leon gives me an approving thumbs up while Layla seems concerned.

The guy and I enter a dark room in the back of the mansion. He turns on the lights, which doesn’t help much given that the only light source are the rainbow LED lights scattered across the walls. For some reason there’s a pool table with a fish tank on top. There are some expensive looking fish swimming around. The only other thing in the room are assorted bean bag chairs arranged in a circle in a corner with what seems to be a box full of products pertaining to weed. I assume this room is used for nothing but a good time.

I go on one side of the pool table and rub my fingers across the velvet. The softness feels nice. I reach the fish tank and bend down to get a closer look. I see a little clownfish swimming around. I try waving to it, but it swims off. Looking forward, I see the guy on the other side looking straight at me. He smirks.

“You like fish, don’t you?” he asks while straightening up.

“I like a lot of things.” I walk to the edge of the pool table as he makes his way to the diagonal edge. I keep my expression and voice as seductive as I can be, which isn’t great, but I can tell he’s liking this. “I like exploring my interests.”

“How about we explore something together?” His voice is a little shaky. “We can possibly try something new.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I make my way over to him, strutting and making sure to use my hips. He bites his lip and some beads of sweat start forming on his forehead. I place my hand on his shoulder and I slowly make my way down his arm until I reach his hand. I hear a slightly audible moan that sounds so adorable. I then snatch the open bottle of wine from his hand and start drinking.

           I don’t know if it’s the wine, excitement, secrecy, or a combination of it all, but I’m in ecstasy right now and I don’t want it to stop. A mysterious man is making me feel wanted. Finally, a chance at a relationship if this goes somewhere. The only thing I’m worried about is messing it up by doing the wrong thing. That’s a later problem. Right now, I’m wanting to see how far I’m willing to go because I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.

           He places the new bottle of wine on the pool table. “What do you want to do? I’m open for anything.”

           “Let’s just talk for a moment.” Even though I do like the idea of doing things with him, I’d rather know more about him. “First question. Why did you bring me to this room?”

           “I’ve been to a few parties here and this is typically one of the least used rooms because it doesn’t have a bed.”

           “So you don’t want to take me to bed?”

“I do!” he quickly shouts. I give a sarcastic expression and he reassembles his thoughts. “I mean, I do, but only if you want to. I figured you wanted to privately talk first.”

“I do want to talk.” I rub my fingers on part of his wings and appreciate the feeling of it. “Let’s talk about your wings for a second. They’re so big. Definitely bigger than mine. I was embarrassed to go with these because I thought they wouldn’t be big enough.”

“Size doesn’t matter to me,” he says in a reassuring voice. “It’s all about how they’re used.”

“The bigger the better they say,” I say teasingly. “I bet when you fly you soar long and forcefully.”

“I can slow down if I’m with somebody. Gotta make sure we’re on the same pace.”

“You might have to teach me how to fly, I’m still learning.”

“That can be arranged.” He takes a hand and caresses the side of my face. He places the other on my back. He pulls me in closer and says, “What do you want to do?”

I lean over to his ear and whisper, “Let’s talk some more.”

“How exciting.”

I walk back to the back edge of the pool table and drink some more. He smiles harder and straightens his jacket. I check him out a little more and my mouth drops when I see something. “Looks like you’re really excited.”

He looks down and notices the big tent in his pants. He chuckles. “Yeah, I am. It’s because of you.”

“How sweet. You’re not going to try hiding it in embarrassment?”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s just the two of us and you already noticed.”

“Moving on,” I say while wanting to change the subject. I know if we continue like this, I might do something I’ll regret. “What really made you come on to me? Like, half my face is covered, and I know we’ve never met before because I never go out.”

“Probably the same reason you agreed to come here with me. You have this aura about you that wants to make me get to know you more. Your smile is beautiful, along with your bright blue eyes that are like orbs of the ocean.”

“Poetic. Must be an English major.”

“Nah, just really cheesy.”

“I like cheese. It goes great with wine.” We laugh as I drink more.

“And I like your sense of humor.”

“Please. I’m awkward in these types of situations and I just say shit.”

“Why are you awkward?” he asks in a sincere tone. “Are you afraid?”

I chug the rest of the bottle and toss it to the side. The emotions from my past start coming back. All this wine in me isn’t helping to keep my emotions stable.

“Not of you, well, for the most part I’m not,” I say without looking at him. I turn my head to the side to keep him from seeing me getting emotional. “But it’s just that I’ve never had people care about me. I mean, I had one person, but it took me too long to realize it because of the mistreatment I received growing up. I’ve been outcasted, bullied, and I have no social skills. I’ve never had anyone show romantic interest in me and I don’t know what to do. I’m just trying to do what I see in movies in hopes of it working. I’m afraid I’m going to mess this up somehow and that you’ll end up hurting me.”

He rushes over to me and takes both my hands and looks me in the eyes. “I will never hurt you. I’m not that type of person.”

“You may not get the chance to since I doubt that we’ll meet again. Unless you’re willing to show me who you are.”

The silence in the room allows me to hear the fish swimming in their tank. He looks conflicted as he scratches the back of his head. I don’t know why I brought that up. I’m more than likely not going to reveal myself.

“I would love to,” he says, “but I prefer to keep the secrecy for now. I’ve been going through some stuff lately. I’ve been having fun, I have. I don’t want this to end. But I promise we’ll meet again.”

“How?”

“I know that the people over at student life are planning a huge party later in the semester. How about we show up in costumes to it. I’m sure I’ll be ready by then.”

I smile. “Sounds like a plan. So, what now?”

“I heard that the fireworks will be going off in a few minutes.”

“Fireworks? For a Halloween party?”

“The host is rich, they don’t care.”

“Makes sense.”

“Meet me on the balcony in five minutes.”

We make our way out of the room, but I make sure to take the new bottle of wine, open it, and start drinking. He takes the bottle from me and takes a sip. I tilt the bottle, resulting in some dripping down his chin and onto his outfit. I laugh as he tosses some of the wine at me and I get wet. He runs away while laughing as I meet up with Leon and Layla.

Layla comes to me and seems worried. “Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” Leon says. “He looks like he enjoyed himself.”

“Oh, I did,” I tell them with the biggest smile on my face. “It was refreshing.”

“Nice. Let me know if you need the room later.”

Layla slaps his chest. “Leon, something could’ve happened.”

“And it seems like something did.”

“Guys,” I say. They stop and look at me. “Nothing like that happened. All we did was talk and it was great. I’m fine. He was a great conversation partner.”

“I’m glad you’re okay and enjoying yourself,” Layla says as she prepares to go back on the dance floor. She swings her bat around for a second. “But let me know if you need my help with anything.”

Leon places a hand on my shoulder. “Good for you for meeting someone. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I make my way upstairs. “I’m going to the balcony to watch the fireworks. See you guys afterwards so we can go back to the dorm.”

Ten minutes go by and I start to think if I’m being stood up. I’m afraid to leave because if I leave and he comes then he’ll think the same. The night breeze chills my face and all I want is to feel the warmth of his arms around my waist, his breath running down my neck.

As I’m thinking about him, I hear the door open. A person stands next to me and I know it’s him. I want to hug him, but don’t want to risk someone seeing. We don’t look at each other, we just keep staring forward as the fireworks begin.

“You know,” I start saying, “tonight has been the most fun that I’ve had ever.”

“Really?” he asks as if I’m lying. “It can’t be. You seem to be the type to have tons of fun times.”

“I wish that were the case, but my childhood was rough. My parents, mainly my father, wouldn’t let me do anything. And since I started college, I haven’t really had that many experiences.”

“Well, I’m glad I was able to make you have fun. I wish I could do more.”

“Me too,” I sigh. I know how hard it is to figure things out, so I don’t want to make him feel like we have to rush things. “And we will have more fun later. Right now, let’s just enjoy the moment.”

We watch the fireworks as they go off in sets of bright colors. From red, to blue, to even multicolored explosions. The spectacular is amazing. This is my first time seeing fireworks in real life since father never allowed us to have them.

In the corner of my eye, I see his hand slowly making its way across the railing and coming towards me. It’s like he’s hesitant, not wanting to do something big in case someone sees. I return the action and I start moving mine. My hand starts shaking as our fingers touch. There’s a spark of electricity running through my veins and I hope he feels it in him too.

He places his hand on top of mine and holds it. At this moment, I feel like I’m in heaven. Holding a boy’s hand in public has always seemed so far out of reach for me. I start thinking about where this could lead us. We could eventually hold hands out of costume, then start a relationship, then kiss, then hopefully move on to more exciting moments.

I’m getting too far ahead of myself. Not even an hour of knowing this guy and I’m having these thoughts. I wonder if Leon thinks like this whenever he meets a new girl, or if it’s just me since I don’t know what it’s like.

His hand is soft and secure. I want to stay like this the whole night, but it’s cut short when we hear someone stomping towards us. We quickly retract our hands and hope the person doesn’t notice.

Regina soon steps between us. She’s dressed like Regina George from Mean Girls. How fitting. She reeks of alcohol and she appears a little tipsy. She has a plastic cup in her hand that’s half empty. She gives me a nasty stare before acting thirsty for the guy. She uses her free hand to rub his arm.

“Hey, handsome,” she says. “Angels are supposed to be pure, but how about we get a little dirty.”

He huffs. He’s annoyed by her and tries stepping back. “You have a boyfriend, Regina.”

“Please, Kyle’s so stupid that he’ll just think I was having a playdate if he finds out.” She doesn’t care about him at all, so it questions me why she’s still with him.

“Don’t call him that,” he angrily says. He’s hot when he’s passionately angry. “Besides, I would never want to do anything with you.”

“Don’t say that.” She reaches out and grabs his arm, squeezing his muscles. “I can give you things no other girl can.”

“No means no,” he says sternly. “Like I said, I don’t want to do anything with you. You’re not my type.”

She gasps as if it’s surprising a guy wouldn’t want to do her. “You come to my party and refuse me. You’re a bad guest.”

“And you’re a bad girlfriend. And a bad person.”

“How dare you say that to me.”

“How dare you think that I’m interested in you. How dare you continue stringing along Kyle making him think that you’re innocent. You’re nothing but a selfish bitch who doesn’t care about who you hurt as long as you get what you want.”

He storms off. Regina is left with me with her mouth hanging so low that her jaw could snap off. She then looks at me as if she’s considering lowering her standards. I don’t say anything to her, I just walk off.

When I go back inside the mansion, I don’t see the guy anywhere. I go check the room we were in and it’s the way we left it. I return to the main room and meet up with Leon and Layla. They see my worried expression and stop dancing.

“What’s wrong?” Layla asks.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Can we go back now?”

“Don’t apologize,” Leon tells me. “It’s okay. We can leave if that’s what you want.”

I nod and we go to Layla’s car. On the drive back, all I can think about is why the guy got so intense with Regina. Do they know each other? They must if he said all that to her with such passion. Now I’m thinking if he’s okay and where he went. I hope he’s safe.

We enter our dorm with bags of Taco Bell that we picked up. Orion is sitting on the living room floor with his laptop on the table. His hair is wet, presumably he just got out of the shower. Leon tosses him a bag of burritos.

I take off my jacket with my wings and I remove my mask to throw them into my room. I plop on the couch and grab a burrito from the bag. I take a bite as I look at what Orion is doing. He has his email up and is writing something to Sora.

“What’ve you been doing tonight?” Layla asks.

“Mainly getting work done,” he quickly responds as if he’s ready to be asked. “Now I’m trying to figure out what I want to say to Sora, but I can’t think of the right words.”

“It’ll come to you,” Leon says as he begins taking off his costume. He brings the top part down to just below his waist. “Girls are complicated, that’s why I like to keep things simple.”

“Says the guy who’ll drop to his knees just for an ounce of attention from a girl and won’t stop crying until she notices you” Layla jokingly comments as she goes to her room.

Leon goes to our room and I remain on the couch next to Orion. He looks at me and shuts his laptop. “You had fun?”

“A blast,” I tell him. “Best night of my life.”

“Glad to hear. By the way, why did you go with the angel costume?”

“I was living my Violetta fantasy,” I say in slight embarrassment.

“What’s that?”

“Violetta is a Disney Channel show. It’s from Argentina, so you probably never heard of it. The main character dressed up as an angel and I wanted to resemble her because it’s one of my favorite shows.”

“Cool. How come you’ve never mentioned it before?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I always thought it was something to be embarrassed about. I always had to keep it hidden when I was at home because I knew my father wouldn’t approve of me watching a show in Spanish.”

“Well, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything with us. We won’t judge you.”

“Thanks. Then I can tell you that I met this guy at the party. Now I’m really happy that I decided to dress up as the angel because the guy dressed up as a black angel. I think it’s a sign.”

“What happened between you two?”

“We just talked, but he made me feel special. We kinda flirted a bit, and I got turned on a little. He just knew how to draw me in and make me feel desired. Now I know what Leon must feel like with Stephanie, or what you had with Sora. Oh, sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he says as though it isn’t fine. “I need to learn to move on.”

“I hope you get the chance to. Even though I don’t know what it must feel like, I can listen anytime you want to talk. But I might not be the right person since, you know, I’m gay and all that.”

We chuckle a little as we eat our burritos. Orion scoots a little closer to me. He seems nervous to say something. He shakes his head as though he doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind. He doesn’t look at me as he says, “I have a question, and I don’t mean to sound offensive. I’m just curious.”

“What is it?” I ask while gaining concern for my friend.

“What’s it like being gay?”

That shakes up my brain. “What do you mean?”

“Like, when did you know you were gay?  What are the feelings?”

I shrug because I really don’t know. I never had to think about this. “I knew I was gay in the eighth grade, but I guess it’s the same feelings that you have for girls. It just so happened my feelings were with boys.”

“Were you ever confused?”

“Not really. Up until then, I never had any sort of feelings for anyone. It wasn’t until the end of middle school where it just clicked and my brain told me I was feeling things for a boy in my class. I did question why I had feelings for boys, but I never was confused. I just knew I liked them.”

“Ok, thanks.” He finishes up the burrito and grabs another.

“Why do you ask? I don’t mind answering, but is there a reason?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s just that I never knew any gay people before and I wanted to know more about them and what it’s like for them. There weren’t really any gay people back in my high school. There was one, but the moment he told people he was severely beaten up and sent to the hospital. He ended up being homeschooled for the rest of high school. When I heard the news that he was gay, I wanted to talk to him to ask why he was gay, just because I only knew what the media told me and I wanted the perspective of an actual gay person.”

“Well, you have me. I don’t mind answering any questions.”

“Thanks, man. I got one more question. Am I a bad person?”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“That gay guy in high school. When he was getting beat up, I just stood there and watched. I was afraid of stepping up because I thought people would think I was like him and then turn on me. I would’ve said or done something, I swear, but I was too scared. I felt like I had to choose a side: do the right thing or stick with my pack. I didn’t feel like I could do both. Does what I did in high school make me a bad person?”

I place a hand on his shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. I’m sure we all did things in high school we regret. What we did in high school doesn’t define who we are. It’s what we do as adults that matter.”

“Thanks for that.”

“No problem. Anything else on your mind?”

“Nah,” he says while shaking his head. “Everything else that’s on my mind I have to figure out myself.”

“Okay.” I grab the remote. “How about we watch TV to clear our minds.”

“Sounds perfect, but I pick what we watch.”

He takes the remote from my hand and pulls up YouTube. He quickly searches for Violetta videos and I get excited at the idea of him possibly liking something else that I like. He clicks the first video, which is one of the performances of “Underneath It All”, one of my favorite songs. It’s the performance where Violetta is singing as an apology to her boyfriend in hopes of him forgiving her.

Next, he chooses “Habla Si Puedes”, the one where it’s like a music video where Violetta is stuck between choosing two lovers and doesn’t know what to do. Orion knows how to get me in my feelings because these two songs are what I listen to the most as they’re what I imagine a future love interest of mine singing to me. I even want “Underneath It All” to be played at my wedding.

We end the night by putting on a playlist of the performances from the show as I explain the plot to him. Without realizing it, I get a blanket and cover us up as we settle for bed. I’m too tired to walk over to my room and I’m sure he won’t mind sharing the couch.