#like i feel like I’m back to my 2019 self before it all and it’s basically time to move back

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Uh-oh. This is bad

[ghost-babygirl]

Can’t believe I’m saying this but Jesus Christ I wish I could just stay here in this program in florida

[82mitsu]

Previously translated pair names that had been posted to Twitter. However corrections had to be made (misinterpretations & an instance of mistranslation), so this is version 2.

Note: This is the only translated thing I will be posting, I am not off hiatus. I had been meaning to archive this before my hiatus, but I also had to fix some things, which is why there was a delay.

Please consult to this post only regarding pair name translations done by me (82mitsu), any other posts or reposts you might see of this chart is the older version. (Previous version has been deleted, but I'm unaware how far the information had spread.)

If any other corrections need to be made, feel free to contact me and I'll make them as soon as possible.

Below follows an extreme lengthy TL note breaking down some pair names, it's a lot of text, so be warned once you unfold the read more.

A lot of research went into these due to 18TRIPs tendency to mix up words, use Gen-Z slang that hasn’t been picked up by everyone yet (or limited to TikTok) and make up their own words (“Omotenashisto” -> “Hospitalister”). I used dictionaries, searched forum results, looked up how people use these words on social media, went TikTok digging, etc.

I tried my best to localize in a way that should make sense even without added context. I only explained the ones that I thought might needed some more back-up in a cultural sense or because it was a specific JPN thing. Thus, not everything has been explained. However, I hope things are clearer compared to the first version that was posted. For Renga & Yukikaze: For ぽゆぽゆ (poyupoyu) there is no definition or anything for this word, but from context clues and digging through how people used it, I deduced that it means something soft and squishy like a plushie or cheeks, so to say. For Renga & Liguang: かりそめの宿縁 (karisome no shukuen) is a Japanese saying about a fated connection of bond that only lasts for a brief moment, but leaves a deep impact on your life. For Renga & Raito: Party is mispelled in the katakana as “paachii” and not the usual “paatii”. Renga has a tendecy to say English words wrong. While “friends” is spelled the correct way, both words have been “mispelled” to drive the point home. For Renga & Kinari: なぁぜなぁぜ (naaze, naaze) is JPN Gen-Z slang from Tiktok. It’s a statement made as an act for complaining, with a bit of sarcasm and irony thrown in at times. Like, “I said I wanna diet but I ate a big meal anyway! なぁぜなぁぜ” or “I’m an idol but I get more anxious doing improv than performances! なぁぜなぁぜ”. Best way I can describe the usage in this context is Renga is throwing a bit of a self-aware tantrum as to why Kinari would correct him. (As mentioned earlier, he isn’t good at English). I guessed a close equivalent would be “nuh-uh”, since that is a dismissal of someone else’s opinion without actual good reason, even if the other person has a point. For Renga & Netaro: まんまん (manman) means “a lot” but I also believe it’s a reference to meatbuns (nikuman). For Kafka & Yodaka: Hanbei is Takenaka Shigeharu, a Japanese samurai from the Sengoku era. He was known for being Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s strategist. For Liguang & Yodaka: 闘牌伝 (touhaiden) is related to Mahjong stuff. 闘牌伝 seems to be an old timey Mahjong video game with RPG elements. Rekka is a fighting game term, and I will quote the website The Fighting Game Glossary by Infil on this: “A type of special move that has multiple stages, as long as you input more commands to continue the sequence. Not all multi-part specials can be called rekkas though; a rekka tends to have exactly three distinct parts and will move your character forward along the ground with each new input.”  For Akuta & Nanaki: They went to the same kindergarten and were grouped together in the “Oden Class”. Japanese kindergartens, from my understanding from researching, tend to have a name for their class, rather than a number. To give an idea what such names could be, in 2019 the website hyenasclubs hosted a poll of most commonly used names for classes, and the top 3 were “baby chick” (hiyoko), “peach” (momo) and “dandelion” (tanpopo). For Akuta & Muneuji: My take on はっけよい輝矢部屋 (hakkeyoi kaguya heya) is a bit of an elaborate bit joking with Princess Kaguya of the Moon (from Tale of the Bamboo Cutter) because I was wondering why they suddenly opted for Muneuji’s last name instead of first. (I might’ve also just overestimated Kaguya Heya being some joke on Kaguya Hime). Hakkeyoi is what a referee shouts at the start of a sumo wrestling match. For Akuta & Ushio: I think ポジティブに腕押し (positive ni ude oshi) is a take on 暖簾に腕押し (noren ni ude oshi) that means something has no effect or is pointless. Lit. it means “pushing a curtain with one's arm”.    For Akuta & Tao: Akuta Nine is a joke on the baseball movie Gyakkyo Nine which is an adaptation of the manga of the same series, I believe. The movie is referred to as GK9, hence I made it AKT9.  For Akuta & Ryui: The original is OYAxKOBU which comes from 親分子分 (oyabunkobun) meaning “boss and his underlings”. Akuta also calls Ryui by “Oyabun”.

For Kiroku & Nanaki: Weebs who watch highschool anime should be familiar with this, but emergency staircase refers to the hallway stairs in a JPN highschool that are sometimes used as chilling out spots by students. For Kiroku & Chihiro: TuRyStA is the clothing brand they wear. 18TRIP has a various selection of clothing brands, which each character having a preference for one or another. For Kiroku & Yodaka: Zhao Yun, as quoted by Wikipedia, “was a military general who lived during the late Eastern Han dynasty and early Three Kingdoms period of China.” For Ushio & Raito: Some heavy freedom was taken with バスボムしゅわリスト (basubamu shuwaristo). After considering how to approach it in the most sensical way, I decided to translate it as “bubblist” due the other options being “hand sign list” or “bubble list”. I thought リスト might function as in -ist, like dentist, artist, guitarist. しゅわ comes from しゅわしゅわ which means bubbly. Although bubblist isn’t not that common, it is sometimes referred to entertainers that do bubble performances (in English). And I think it made more sense than “hand sign list” or “bubble list” to say the least. This was also taking in consideration how 18TRIP, as explained in the intro, gets very creative with its language usage. For Raito & Nagi: Mandarin ducks symbolize “soulmates” of some kind in China. In other words, Mandarin Duck Touring is more along the lines of “Motorcycle touring soulmates”. However, I find the mandarin duck reference and interesting pull compared to just “soulmates”, so it was kept as is. For Kinari & Ryui: “Super Darling Gap Inspection” is more along the original lines. “Gap” in Japanese is usually used in the context of when someone acts one way, but unexpectedly, can act a different way. Ex. A very shy person shows they can be super vulgar, that can be considered a “gap” of some kind. In English, people are more familiar with “gap moe”, thus gap moe was used. For Tao & Nagi: Might be a reference to Yokohama’s Zo-no-hana (Elephant Nose) Park. For Toi & Yodaka: The original is more along the lines of, in the most literal sense, “going around raisins circle (of friends).” Toi likes raisins, but Yodaka doesn’t, so Yodaka passes them onto Toi. I’ve turned into on a play on “sharing is caring” since that’s a common concept in English.

[weena-mercator]

Inbetween reblogging all the fun “unnecessary feelings day” stuff, I’d like to touch on the bigger part of what’s happening here.

I think that for the most part all the giddiness about it which produces all the fanart and other “gay gay homosexual gay” posts probably originates from the same way I see it… which is that it’s fun and silly to point at Miles “Gay Disaster” Edgeworth but also understanding that this line is really more like 70% about questioning his morals and place in the legal system and 30% about Phoenix (along with some deeply buried feelings he’s not ready to admit at all yet)

(admittedly I only got in Ace Attorney in 2019 and then didn’t get really into it until this year, so… apologies if this is all very obvious. But I guess new people are joining the fandom every day, so if you’ve been around a long time this is nothing new to you I’m sure - for others maybe they’re just now exploring this stuff)

Edgeworth is struggling with the fact that he’s now questioning everything he’s been taught to believe when it comes to the law and prosecuting. And why? Because of Phoenix.

Phoenix has opened his eyes to the fact that not all those who are deemed guilty by the police are actually guilty, that not everyone lies because they’re guilty and committed the crime, but perhaps they didn’t commit the crime and they lie for some other reason (they’re not guilty but worried the truth about something will make it look like they are, they want to protect someone, etc.).

“Unease… and uncertainty.”

Edgeworth is uncomfortable with acknowledging that his whole belief system is fracturing after Phoenix comes back into his life. He is absolutely not okay with feeling anything but certain. And sure, a lot of that belief system was probably born out of a) survival under MvK’s roof and b) some self-inflicted punishment because even though supposedly Yanni Yogi murdered his father - they still managed to be found not guilty, so he can’t help but wonder if that verdict was right, maybe Yogi really is not guilty because he himself might be the guilty one… He can’t know for sure, but the last thing he remembers is throwing the gun, the gunshot, a scream - it haunts him nightly. But the nightmares are reminder enough of his possible guilt, so he tries not to dwell on it during his conscious hours if possible, he’s got a job to do: get guilty verdicts for others. But he’s not going to say either of these reasons out loud for sure (at least not for a bit), so it’s easier to try to convince himself and others that he is following in MvK’s footsteps under the guise of the man who murdered my father was declared not guilty because of a flaw in the legal system so I will do whatever is in my power to ensure all those charged with a crime do not escape the punish of the law.

And as a cherry on top, who is the one bringing all of these feelings of unease and uncertainty to the surface? Phoenix Wright. A childhood friend he hasn’t seen since he lost his father. Someone he must have really cared about as a child, surely - there’s too much indication that they were very close for a while before Miles disappeared because MVK took him away, making their reunion all the more complicated for Edgeworth. Phoenix still sees him the way he did as children, and Edgeworth knows he’s anything but the same as the boy he was back then (or really, parts of him are still buried deep down but it will take a while before he’s ready to examine things further).

Whether you want to believe Phoenix and Miles had inklings of feelings stronger than friendship as children is up to your personal headcanon (I lean on the side of yes, because I’m a sucker for kid fluff and the story just gives this whole vibe of childhood best friends who got very close very fast and felt really strongly about each other, even if they were too young to understand/seek out romantic love - but they knew they really cared about each other a lot).

Phoenix seems as idealistic as ever to Edgeworth, and it’s too much to handle that Phoenix could still be trying to see Edgeworth as someone he doesn’t believe he is capable of being anymore - someone he hasn’t been for quite a long time.

I think Miles probably tried to hang on tightly to his memories of Phoenix (and to an extent, Larry) after his father died, because Phoenix was still out there somewhere. But eventually he had to push them down… bury his feelings because he couldn’t survive that way in the von Karma household. Feelings and relationships were only distractions.

Well… now Phoenix is back and largely responsible for this crisis of conscience that Edgeworth finds himself in. That’s the largest meaning behind the line.

But I don’t think it’s a stretch to still say, yes, the gay reading of it is not inaccurate either - just a smaller piece. Those feelings of nostalgia and caring about Phoenix are being stirred back up - he thought he had been able to successfully bury them, apparently not.

On top of everything else, his thoughts are going to be that he cannot handle dealing with feelings for Phoenix. He has not allowed himself to develop relationships with others beyond what is necessary for his job, and even his relationships with MVK and Franziska are not healthy by any standards. So yeah, some of that unease and uncertainty is about Phoenix specifically, not just what Phoenix has showed him, but also what Phoenix represents to him - a past that’s not only painful to remember, but also a time where he cared about and was close to Phoenix. But he’s not at all in the right headspace to try to deal with that, so he’s going to continue to try to pretend he’s not having these feelings.

I like to think the moment when Edgeworth really goes “oh shit I have feelings for him” comes later, at a point during Turnabout Goodbyes (I have my specific moment in mind - I actually did not even ship them hard by the “unnecessary feelings” line, it was more like haha silly gay lawyers that’s fun and later it became I depend emotionally on this homosexual ship)

Um anyways is that how most people also view this? Lol

Okay back to the fun reblogging for the celebrations.

[sillygoblinantics]

I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

I’ve held my tongue for too long about my feelings on madhouse but fucking hell!

Unless by some fucking act of arceus or universe hands me the fucking concept art that went into this horrible webcomic- I got room to rip and tear!

This is:

Goblin’s Valid Autopsy of Lily Orchard’s PokéMadhouse

Before we go forward!

Hi. I’m Gobbo or Bri (pick ya poison), I’m a current student at Savannah College of Art and Design (as for campus I ain’t saying nothing) Im working on my bachelors in Animation and minoring in Creative Writing. My Concentration starting as 2d animation later switching it to Story and Concept in animation (back in 2021). I started in 2019 and it’s… 2024 now. Don’t judge me! I’ve been mentored by comic artist, storyboarders and many more in the industry! I’ve taken storyboarding and a plethora of writing classes to have enough qualifications under my belt to properly discuss the shit writing, lacking worldbuilding, disorganized plot hole ridden lore/arcs and horrible inconsistent art. So let’s not waste another moment and dive fucking in!

Story:

I’m not using Lily’s self review tvtropes to cover this. It’s disingenuous ego stroking at full blast.

We follow the highs and lows that are the “will they won’t they” relationship between the stated as sisters, Lily and her Gardevoir, G (yes that’s her fucking name). In a Sunday newspaper comic page esc structure. With bits and pieces of trivia and lore that rarely comes up if not to push and pull sympathy points for lilys self insert as she gets assaulted and violated in physical and mental ways. An arc being called “Violate” and later following the would be time span for gestation of a baby that would then become the labeled cryptid child.

I’m gonna be real there’s no point in reading it because the moment something big happens out of the blue there wasn’t a page missing to explain it which god fucking dammit Lily do I need to give you one of those brainframe sheets or outline templates if you decide to write a story? Because I’ll gladly provide them!

How do you consider yourself a fucking writer at all with your fundamental lack of care for lore and story like- for fucks sake woman it won’t kill you!

Characters

Lily

G

Mikayla

Marah

Bonnie

Mismagius

Other hardly seen or used Pokémon that get thrown away out of nowhere

Countless stolen ocs

And Dr Ponytail (yes that’s the fucking name of one of the “antagonists” and I’ve reread it so many times and found nothing!)

Lily has her “antagonists” being either ex friends or partners or someone who tries to call out bullshit! Fucking hell, the way Lily has g written it’s hard to not see HER AS ONE!

You have all these characters and you neglect so many of them to focus on making your favorite Dollies kiss and scissor or do nothing!

You don’t punish actual rapists either like legit what do you do when your Pokémon who’s been raised like a sister your whole life admits to mindfucking you in a weird soul bond type deal (that you wrote the explanation of yourself), then out of fear swaps dna of a Pokémon of her CRITICALLY ENDANGERED SPECIES can match with to save it with your own dna to baby lock you to staying together, what’s the thing you decide to write?

Case in point: stick an entire cactus up your urethra Lily.

I need a break from this… I’m moving on to the art misdirection.

Lily you are the one commissioning these panels from Mikayla. Meaning you are telling her how to draw these making you the literal art director of this shitty comic!

You want my advice?

USE MODEL SHEETS

Like holy shit. I need to copy paste my spiel about what it is one second:

Make a turnaround for your character(s)!

(Excluding front and back you need to make left and right versions of the rest!)

Front

Back

over-the-shoulder

3/4 view

profile

expression sheets

color pallet reference

(if it’s online/digital rgb if it’s for print it’s cmyk)

include the hexcodes for artists if it’s a small production!

lineup for height and scale for comparison to:

other characters

backgrounds

props

etc.

elements of the world + floor plan in small settings

action poses

hair guide (trust me it’s important)

these are the elements every artist who wants to tell a visual story be it animated or comic always needs:

✨A PITCH BIBLE✨

And Lily, if you’re making any story that is

A. Tied to an existing property

B. Has real world/geopolitical/historic relation

C. Needing a basic understanding to science

Do everyone and yourself a favor

AND DO YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH IN MLA FORMAT INSTEAD OF SOMEONE ELSES OPINIONS AND YOUR ASS OF HOLDING BULLSHIT!

Class

Dismissed

Your homework is to get these books:

[laurenairay]

Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.

Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.

a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler

Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles

~

2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.

But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.

Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.

A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”

His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.

“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.

Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.

“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”

“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.

“He’s perfect…”

Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.

“…a border collie, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.

Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”

At least he understood.

With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.

“So, you live here then?”

You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.

“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”

You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.

Brock just grinned.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”

~

Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.

Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.

So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.

“Well this looks cosy.”

You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”

He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.

This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.

And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.

He really was so handsome though.

“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.

“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.

“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.

It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.

~

It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.

From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?

To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text

From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?

You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.

To: Brock Of course I don’t mind

From: Brock Of course?

You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.

To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.

From: Brock Well I definitely do now.

You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.

To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon

The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.

But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.

“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.

“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.

Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.

“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.

Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.

“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.

“Great!”

The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.

“Coola! Chill!”

Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.

“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.

There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.

“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.

All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.

~

From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?

~

You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.

There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.

When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.

“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.

The last thing you wanted was to intrude.

“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.

Oh. Now you felt stupid.

Wait, a welcome surprise?

“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.

“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.

Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.

“SHE’S HERE!”

“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!

“YEAH I’LL COME!”

Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.

“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.

“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.

Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.

“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.

“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.

You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.

“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.

You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”

Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.

“Really?”

“Really really,” Elias nodded.

“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”

You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.

You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”

Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”

You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.

“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”

“What?” Elias frowned.

“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”

As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.

Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“Brunch? Can we go?”

Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.

“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.

*

Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.

Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.

He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.

“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.

“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”

Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.

“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.

Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.

It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.

“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”

Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.

“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.

Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?

“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.

“I wanted to.”

The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?

“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.

Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Oh.

He…really?

You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?

While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Another drink?”

“Yes, definitely.”

*

Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.

The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.

“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”

Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.

From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.

You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?

Surely not.

But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.

“Is Brock on his way?”

“Brock isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.

“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.

You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?

“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.

Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”

The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.

Absolutely.

The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.

“Shall we watch another?”

“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”

Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.

Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.

It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.

You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.

It took ten minutes for everything to change.

Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.

The ball was in your court.

Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.

The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.

So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.

“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.

He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.

“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.

Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”

He swallowed heavily before nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”

You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.

“I should go,” he said softly.

No!

Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.

“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.

You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.

“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Oh wow.

For a while?

You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.

“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.

The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.

You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.

[lemoncrushh]

Comfort Food

Summary: Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Warnings: None. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: College/Uni Harry x OC written in first person. Originally posted in 2019. I realize I've been reposting a lot of fluff lately, but apparently that was the mood I was in back then. I feel like this story is very relatable though, no matter your age. We all want to be liked, but sometimes we let our own insecurities stop us from believing we deserve it.

Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially. They didn’t see me. I don’t mean they didn’t look at me exactly, but when they did it was like they were looking through me. There might as well have been a prettier girl standing behind me that they were really looking at, and I suppose at times that may have been the case.

“Five eighty,” the tired woman at the register said with a sigh. I handed her a five and a one before waiting for the clinking sound of two dimes that dropped from the side of the register into a little metal dish.

I gripped my tray with both hands and made my way to the farthest end of the cafeteria, choosing the booth next to the window where someone hadn’t already taken it upon themselves to open the blinds. I hated sitting in streaming, hot sunshine while I ate my food.

I’d just taken a bite of the macaroni and cheese - the main reason why I frequented this cafeteria - when I heard someone speak.

“Hey, I know you.”

I jumped as I looked up at the boy who stood near the restrooms, thinking surely there was someone behind me he was greeting instead. His name was Harry. I had a class with him, I knew that much, but there was no way he even knew I existed. He was tall with a curly mop of hair on his head and big green eyes that if I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in. I quickly blinked and looked back down at my lunch.

“I have a class with you, right?” he continued, stepping closer to my table. Okay so obviously he was talking to me after all.

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Yeah. What is it, Psych?”

“Bio,” I muttered.

“What was that?” It was then that he took it upon himself to slide into the booth across from me.

“Biology,” I answered, glaring at him.

“Oh, right! Biology. Professor Graham.”

I nodded, sucking in my lips.

“You sit in front of me, end of the row. What’s your name again?”

“Jessica.”

“Jessica,” he repeated with a lopsided grin. “That’s right.”

Harry rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand as he stared at me. He seemed to be studying me for a while, though I wasn’t sure if he was really looking at my face or thinking of something else. Either way, he was silent for so long, even as I tried to ignore him and eat my mac and cheese, I began to get nervous. Finally he spoke again.

“Is that good?” he inquired.

“What?”

“That,” he pointed. “What you’re eating.”

I nodded emphatically. “Mhm. You wouldn’t think so, coming from a cafeteria, but it’s really good actually. It’s just like-”

“Hey, Harry!”

I turned my head to see a table full of people, one of the guys waving Harry over. I recognized him from class too. He sat next to Harry. I narrowed my eyes.

“You have your friends get your food for you?”

He made a face as he leaned forward to whisper, “Only 'cause I had to wee really bad.”

A giggle slipped from my throat before I could stop it. I quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment, but Harry only gave me another lopsided grin.

“I guess I should go,” he finally gestured toward the other table.

I nodded.

“Maybe they got me some of that,” he pointed at my mac and cheese as he rose from the booth. “Good to see you, Jessica. Have a nice lunch.”

“You too,” I managed a smile.

“Oh,” he stopped suddenly, his sneakers squeaking on the tile as he backed up. Then he turned to me, his big hands spread out across his chest. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

As if I didn’t know.

I could hear his voice before I saw him. I was already at my desk, concentrating on my notes from Friday when I heard Harry talking to Sam, the boy who sat next to him. I didn’t listen to what they were talking about, however, until I saw Harry’s legs stop on the step next to my desk and I heard my name at the same time a pen poked me in the shoulder. I removed my eyes from my notes and followed the long, denim clad legs up to a black t-shirt and finally green eyes.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Just saying hi,” he smiled before bringing his pen to his mouth and biting on it. Then he took the final step and took his regular seat on the row behind me.

“Oh,” I whispered, though I figured he didn’t hear me. “Hi.”

“How was the rest of your weekend?”

For some reason I thought Harry had returned to his conversation with Sam, but then he said my name again.

“Huh?” I twisted in my seat.

“I asked how the rest of your weekend was,” he smirked. “After I saw you.”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Good.” His dimples displayed in his cheeks which made me quickly look away.

“Oh hey,” I heard him add. “I did get to try that mac and cheese. And you were right. Surprisingly good.”

I felt myself smile just as Professor Graham took his place in the front of class and began his lecture.

I’d just slung my backpack over my arm when Harry said my name for the third time in an hour. I turned to look at him, his long arms slipping through the straps of his own backpack.

“Yes?” I asked timidly.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, taking the top step down to my level. I noticed he was picking at his bottom lip before he tucked it between his teeth.

“Favor?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he admitted. “I’m a fairly decent student. So I don’t usually ask for help. But this class...well, I’m not doing as well in it to be honest. And we got that test next Monday.”

My stomach lurched as I realized what he was implying.

“You need a tutor?” I asked.

Harry tilted his head and a curl fell over his eye.

“I was thinking more like a study partner?” He said it in a question, probably out of nerves. I thought it was cute.

But I knew the truth. Cute or not, Harry was wanting help to get a good grade. Guys like Harry didn’t ask girls like me to “study”. Study partner was a term used for pretty, bubbly girls who were probably making the same grade the boy was - an excuse to be with them without actually asking them on a date. Harry was not asking me for that. He wanted a tutor.

“Um…” I sucked in my lips, then nodded. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Harry let out a deep breath and his shoulders dropped. “God, thanks Jessica. I really appreciate-”

“I’ll be at the Franklin Library tonight at seven,” I interrupted. “I can stay as late as you need.”

“That’s...that’s perfect actually. I’ll be there.”

I nodded sharply. “Okay.”

I turned to make my way down the steps, feeling Harry’s presence looming behind me.

“Thank you, Jessica,” he said again when we reached the bottom. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder for a split second before he turned for the door. For some strange reason I froze in my spot, watching him reach the exit, then look back one last time and smile.

With the sleeve of my sweater, I covered my mouth and made an inaudible squeal into my arm.

“No, see that’s where you’re getting confused,” I pointed to the diagram in the book.

“Tell me about it,” Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Actually it’s not so much confusing, it’s just a lot of names and shit to memorize.”

I chuckled slightly and sat back. “Science is a lot of memorizing,” I agreed.

“If I have the book in front of me, I get it. But obviously I can’t do that for the test.”

“Then we’ll keep studying until we get it right,” I offered as Harry scribbled some notes.

Looking up from his paper, he peered at me behind the curl that had fallen over his eye again. It took all my gumption not to reach out and push it away.

“So, Jessica, can I ask you something?”

I instantly felt myself blush and looked down at my own notes.

“Um...if you’re asking if I was a straight A student in high school, the answer is yes. But no, I wasn’t valedictorian. That title went to Joseph Larkin.”

Harry snorted and I glared at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Oh.”

With a smirk that I would have deemed cocky if Harry didn’t seem like such a nice person, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Why the macaroni and cheese?”

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“From that cafeteria. You’d barely said two words to me until I asked you about it, then all of a sudden your face lit up and you were eager to tell me how good it was.”

With another pink blush to my cheeks, I pretended to doodle on my paper.

“It’s my ultimate comfort food,” I admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the closest to my grandma’s that I’ve found anywhere. The rest of the food there is…” I shrugged, “it’s okay I guess. But I go there just for the mac and cheese.”

“Ah, so it’s sort of sentimental for you.”

I tilted my head from side to side.

“That...and...I’m sort of a foodie,” I explained.

“Yeah? Do you cook?”

“A little. But I’m more of like...a connoisseur of particular things. Like I have favorite items that I like to order from almost any restaurant in town, even if it’s not particularly what they’re known for.”

“Oh!” grinned Harry, leaning forward on the table, his arms crossed in front of him. “I’d be interested in picking your brain, then.”

“Go for it.”

“So if I name a place, you can tell me what to eat?”

“Pretty much. Except that Mediterranean place on 5th Street. Nothing is good there, trust me.” I made a gagging noise which made Harry laugh.

“Alright then. How about…” he tapped his chin with his finger, “that steak place by the cinema.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding me? The double fudge brownie a la mode.”

“That’s a dessert!” Harry quipped.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the best thing on the menu. Plus I’m not a big steak person.”

“Noted,” he raised a brow. “What about Michaelangelo’s?”

“Chicken Marsala. And the stuffed mushrooms are good. Unfortunately there’s something in their marinara sauce I’m allergic to.”

“That’s too bad. What about Chinese? Do you like Asian food?”

“I like most of it, yeah,” I replied. “Oh! The best is this amazing chicken soup from that place on 8th and Morton. My mom used to get it for me whenever I was sick. I don’t know what they put in it, but I almost always feel better the next day.”

Harry smiled at me, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. I felt myself blush and looked down at the table.

“We should go get some,” I heard him say.

“They’re probably closed now,” I commented before I realized he probably didn’t mean right then.

“Oh! Yeah!” Harry looked at his phone. It was after eleven. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Yeah I should get home.”

I shoved my book in my backpack and zipped it up.

“Can I walk you?” Harry asked.

“Oh, um...no, I have my car.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

I shook my head.

“Oh.” Harry looked disappointed. Or maybe I was just hoping he did. “Can I at least walk you to your car?”

I tried to hide my smile. “Sure.”

Stepping out into the cold night, I was glad I’d brought my winter coat instead of just my hoodie. Harry, however was only in a light jacket. I did notice how he walked a little closer to me, but I didn’t say anything until he did.

“It’s changing seasons now I reckon.”

“Yeah. Is it far to your building?”

“Nah, just over there,” he pointed across the street.

“Oh, that’s good.”

We made it to my car and I thanked him for walking with me before I opened the door and climbed inside.

“Jessie,” he said, his voice low, his arm on the door. “Can I call you Jessie?”

I bit my lip and nodded. Nobody else called me that, but I would gladly let him call me anything he wanted.

“Good,” he beamed. “You look like a Jessie to me. Anyway, do you think we could do this again? Studying, I mean, at the library.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s just...the test isn’t for a week but I really wanna make sure I know this stuff…”

I reached a hand out and touched his bicep. “It’s no problem, Harry. I’m happy to help.”

“Great!” he said. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No, it’s fine with me. Same time?”

“Yeah. Thanks Jessie.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Harry.”

“There’s no way Danny’s has better donuts than Esther’s,” Harry argued. “I’m sorry Miss Foodie, but I will have to disagree with you there.”

I laughed at his nickname and shook my head. “Not all the donuts,” I pointed out. “Just the jelly-filled. If I want a jelly donut, I go to Danny’s, no contest.”

“But have you had the cinnamon cake donuts from Esther’s?”

“I have,” I nodded. “And I agree, they’re good. But jelly is the best.”

Harry rolled his eyes which made me laugh harder. I covered my face with my hands, remembering we were in a library.

Harry and I had been at it since seven, studying for the Biology exam, but somehow we’d made it to the subject of food once again, just like we had almost all week, except for a couple days when we couldn’t meet.

“Alright, Harry,” I said once I calmed down. “Test is tomorrow. What do you think?” It was Sunday evening and the library closed early.

“I think I want another week,” he groaned.

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it. I’ll at least squeak by and get a C.”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed.

Harry smirked, giving my chair a tiny shove under the table. “I’m teasing you, darling.”

I blushed for the upteenth time that week and gave a gentle grin. “Oh.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help, Jessie,” he added. “I’m actually sad the week is ending. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Oh,” I repeated.

“You know,” he raised a brow as he packed up his books, “since we’ve been talking about food so much, I was thinking after this test is over we should go out.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“Out to eat,” he offered. “Someplace you like. Not that Mediterranean restaurant or the one by the cinema, obviously.”

“Um...really? Um...I don’t know.” I stumbled.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Um...I’m...I’m kind of busy,” I said.

Harry pouted, then blinked. “Every day?”

“Well…” I hesitated, knowing fully well that was a lie. “Maybe not. Um...yeah, sure we could do that...sometime.”

“Cool,” Harry beamed, “wanna give me your number?”

I stared at him while he pulled out his phone. Touching a few things, he looked up at me.

“Go ahead,” he urged. But I was frozen.

Guys like Harry didn’t ask for phone numbers from girls like me.

“Jessie?” he asked.

Finally I cleared my throat and recited my number. With a genuine smile, Harry typed it into his phone.

“I just texted you,” he said. “So now you have mine.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Harry walked me to my car like always and waved goodbye as I drove off. When I got home and dropped my bag on the chair beside my bed, I quickly dug out my phone. I didn’t use it all that often; no one ever called me. It was more for emergencies. But there it was. A text.

Hey Miss Foodie. Good luck on the test tomorrow. And thanks for all your help.

Text me when you get home please.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling as big as I wanted. But it was no use. The smile won out. He’d said please for gosh sakes.

I’m home.

Hey, thanks for letting me know. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely.

Ok.

Goodnight Jessie. See you in the morning.

Goodnight Harry

I could tell my texts were short and bland, even for someone who doesn’t text much. But I didn’t know what else to say.

The test went smoothly, at least I thought. I finished mine a little early and turned it in to Professor Graham. When I reached the door, I looked back and saw Harry with his lopsided grin. I waved and he gave me a thumbs up.

That afternoon I heard my phone buzz which startled me since that didn’t happen often. Harry sent me a short text saying he thought he might’ve aced the test. I told him I wouldn’t doubt it.

Professor Graham said the scores would be posted that night online. Just after I checked mine, and gave myself a mental high five for the perfect score, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“A ninety, Jessie! I got a ninety!”

“Harry, that’s great!” I cheered.

“Well, it’s not acing it, but close. Definitely the best score I’ve ever gotten on a science test.”

“I’m happy for you!”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jessie!”

I smiled, though he couldn’t see me.

“I really appreciate all your help,” he continued. “Although we probably spent at least half of the study time talking about food.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” I said before I could stop the words.

“Good. So let’s talk now,” I could practically hear the lopsided grin in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just checked my score.”

“You aced it, didn’t you?”

I was silent.

“Of course you did,” he teased. “Smarty pants.”

“Well I was your tutor,” I quipped.

“Study partner,” he corrected.

I laughed louder.

“I like your laugh,” he said. “It’s cute.”

For the next hour, I was not myself. I was some other person, some other version of Jessica. I was Jessie, I supposed, Harry’s study partner. A girl with a cute laugh who got phone calls and texts from curly headed boys with lopsided grins. I didn’t recognize myself.

By the time I got off the phone, my face was flushed, and my smile seemed permanently glued to my face. Washing up before bed, I stared in the mirror, reminding myself who I really was.

Girls like me didn’t get phone calls and laugh for over an hour with boys like Harry. Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially.

Wednesday morning when I walked into Bio, Harry was already there, which was a first. In fact, he was sitting in my seat, a white paper bag in front of him on the desk and a goofy grin on his face like he had a secret he was dying to tell.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Brought you something,” he replied, pointing to the bag. Then he slid into the empty seat next to mine that was usually occupied by Omar.

Taking my seat, I grabbed the bag and opened it, the sweet aroma hitting my nostrils immediately.

A jelly donut from Danny’s.

“What is this for?” I asked him incredulously.

“For helping me with the Bio test,” he said. Then a wide grin spread across his face as his cheeks blushed a rosy pink, much like mine had been doing since last Monday. “And maybe because I kinda like you.”

“What?” My eyes widened like saucers.

He looked down at the desk and back at me. “Alright. Truth? It’s not a maybe. And I don’t just kinda like you. I do like you. A lot, actually.”

“No you don’t,” I snapped before I even realized the words had left my lips. I regretted them instantly, especially after seeing the hurt look on Harry’s face.

“I don’t?”

“Well...I mean...you can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” He leaned closer to me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he whispered. Then he seemed to consider something else. “Or a girlfriend?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean...guys like you don’t like girls like me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, his expression looking like all the gears in his brain were turning around all of the words I’d said.

“What exactly are...guys like me...and girls like you? As far as I can tell, I’m a guy...no, not even that. I’m a person. And you’re a person. And I like you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Because it’s…” I stumbled. “I don’t know. You’re just...well you’re you.”

“I am me,” he agreed. “At least I hope I am.”

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. “We’re different, Harry.”

“How so?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. I glanced over towards the door and saw Michelle Young walk in. She was tall and pretty and when she walked into a room, people noticed.

“Have you looked at you?” I sighed.

Harry looked down at his lap and held out his arms, pretending to inspect himself. He was really making this hard for me.

“Her!” I gestured toward Michelle who was taking her seat. “That’s the kind of girl that gets attention. Guys like you go out with girls like her.”

Harry seemed to study Michelle longer than I would have liked, but when he turned back to me, he merely shrugged.

“She’s okay, I guess. But I haven’t gotten to know her and spend time with her. She may be a lovely person, or she may be a bore. I like you, Jessie.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being around Harry definitely made me feel a certain way, but I didn’t think he would ever in my wildest dreams feel the same about me. I needed time to process it.

Professor Graham walked into the room then, and the class quieted. Omar shuffled in after the Professor so Harry walked around me to his seat behind me. For the next hour I was grateful he didn’t have to see my face. Because I had no idea what emotions they revealed.

When the lecture was over, Harry asked if we could talk. I told him I had to get to my next class, but he could text me later. And I told him thanks for the donut.

I didn’t get a text from Harry that afternoon, which was rather disappointing, but I tried not to dwell on it. I knew he was out of my league anyway and figured he finally decided for himself.

That night, however, after I ate dinner with my mom and did some homework, I realized I had a voicemail.

“Jessie…” he hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off, if I came on too strong. I just...I like you and um.... I don’t really understand this ‘girls like you’ thing you mentioned. But...I think you’re great. And I wish we could go out. But...if you don’t want to, it’s okay. Text me if you want...or call...or whatever. Bye.”

I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand for nearly twenty minutes. I was too chicken to call. I didn’t know what I would say. And apparently I didn’t know what to say in a text either because everything I’d type I’d just end up deleting before I could send it. Finally I just typed four words.

I like you too.

Harry didn’t reply to my text that night. Or at least not before I fell asleep. But I awoke to new messages Thursday morning.

Thank God!!!

When do you wanna go out??

Oh by the way, how was the donut?

I laughed as I got ready for school, sending him a quick reply that we could go out that weekend if he was available and that the jelly donut was the bomb.

I felt different all day. I seemed to have a hop in my step and a smile on my face at all times. For the first time in a long time, something - other than food - made me...happy.

But the hop and smile were short-lived. That night Harry called me and he sounded terrible.

“I think I’m getting a cold,” he moaned.

“Oh no.”

“I wanted to take you out tomorrow,” he added.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “We can do it another time.”

“I’m sorry, Jessie.”

We talked for a little longer, but Harry’s coughing was getting worse so we said goodnight.

Harry didn’t make it to Biology the next morning either. I felt awful for him, but more than that, I missed him. Granted, he sat behind me, but just knowing his seat was empty made my heart ache.

After my next class, I had a plan. Taking a detour to 8th and Morton, I made a special purchase before heading to the dorms across from the Franklin Library. I didn’t know which one exactly was Harry’s, but as luck would have it, I saw Omar from Bio walking up to the building and I asked him.

His door was at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I knocked three times. I heard some sort of sounds coming from inside before a latch was released and the door swung open.

“Jessie!” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He sniffled, then brought a tissue to his mouth which he coughed into. He looked like Rudolph with his red nose. I had the sudden urge to kiss it, but instead I made myself speak.

“I came to check on you,” I admitted.

“Oh. That’s sweet of you. I’m sorry I’m…” he paused to cough again, “...sick.”

I frowned at his obvious look of disappointment as though he really was more upset that he was sick under the circumstances. I found it endearing.

“Harry, get back inside,” I said, pushing him into his room and shutting the door behind me.

“You brought me something?” he asked, eyeing the bag in my hand.

I smiled, holding it up. “Soup. Now sit.”

Mustering up a smile of his own, he followed my orders and sat at the desk behind him. I opened the bag and pulled out the large container of soup and a spoon.

“Eat up, buttercup,” I sang. Then I sat on the nearby bed as I watched Harry dig in. After the first spoonful, he made a sound and looked at me with wide eyes.

“‘s so good!”

“Told ya! It’s my favorite comfort food. You’ll probably be feeling better by tomorrow.”

“I thought the mac and cheese was your favorite comfort food.”

I rolled my eyes. Okay so he paid attention. “Fine, second favorite.”

Despite his illness, Harry smirked before focusing again on the soup. I smiled and started to lie back on the bed.

“Is this your bed?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, good. Didn’t wanna lie on someone else’s,” I joked.

“But you might not wanna lie on mine since I’ve been sick.”

He had a point. I sighed. “I don’t care.”

Harry ate a little more than half the container before he had another coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby water bottle that he’d apparently been drinking from and guzzled it down.

“‘m Sorry, Jessie,” he whined. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh, of course,” I agreed, sitting up. I was about to stand when he stopped me.

“Lie with me,” he said. “Just for a little bit.”

I blinked before he practically pulled me down with him, not having the chance to argue. Harry wrapped his arms around me and I instantly felt warm. I laid my head on his chest and felt his breaths, a nice steady rhythm that soothed me.

“This is so nice,” he murmured. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

I hummed against his chest and he pulled me tighter.

“You know, the soup was great. But if I do end up better by tomorrow, I reckon it’ll be because of you.”

I lifted my head to look at his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed, but more than anything I saw...something else. Sincerity.

“Me?” I whispered.

Harry pushed a strand of hair away from my cheek.

“I really like you, Jessie. I think you’re kind and thoughtful, smart and funny, cute and sweet.”

I smiled at him as he traced the back of his hand across my cheek.

“I think you might be my comfort food,” he grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Smooth, Harry,” I poked.

“Hey, you liked it, admit it.”

It was cheesier than the mac and cheese I so loved. But it was also sweeter than a jelly donut. I could make my own silly analogies. But regardless, it was great to hear.

“I do admit it,” I nodded. “And I like you, too. A lot.”

Tilting his head, Harry leaned in, his lips grazing mine before taking my face in his hands and kissing me tenderly.

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[harry-on-broadway]

Snapshot

Word Count: 3.4K || Rating: M

A/N: This is my super late entry into the SweetandSpicyFicChallenge I hosted with @hslllot​ and @harrysblackcoat​. It’s a sweet little blurb (with a hint of spice) inspired by the coziest photo of Harry to exist. Enjoy! 

***

2017

“Stop!”

You put your hand in front of your face, hoping to block Harry’s advances.

“Just one more,” he said, laughing.

“That’s what you said five minutes ago.”

“It’s not my fault you’re this beautiful.”

Click.

You heard the camera shutter and put your hand down, figuring you were safe for a minute. Harry’s head was bent over the device. He frowned as he looked at the back of the camera.

“I think it’s out of film.”

“Are you sad you can’t use your new toy anymore?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “The lighting is almost perfect and I just wanted one good photo of you.”

You bit back your sarcastic reply upon hearing the earnestness in his voice. The film camera had been a recent vacation purchase, with Harry justifying it by saying he’d been looking for a new hobby and always planned on learning photography. In the days that followed, he’d started practicing, taking pictures of the view from your Paris hotel room, the flowers you saw at the market, and to your displeasure, you. You knew you should be flattered by his admiration and dedication to preserving you for eternity on film, but being hounded by a camera when you just wanted to relax was no fun. Harry of all people should know that.

“Harry, we can pick up more film tomorrow. Let’s just go to dinner now.”

He pouted. “Do you promise? You’re not just saying that? Because I know how you feel about the camera.”

“Yes, Harry, I promise we can get more film tomorrow. But I’m getting hangry and need to eat. Food. Now.”

He placed the camera on his nightstand. “Alright then, let’s go since someone needs to be fed.” He slung his arm around you, pulling you close before you all headed out into the Parisian night.

***

2018

“Right then, we have to get it on this try. There are no second chances.” He looked at you to make sure you understood.

“Yes sir,” you said, getting into position.

“Sir?” He arched his brow.

“Oh you liked that?”

“Yeah, but we’ll get into that later.” He placed his hands on your hips and positioned you how he wanted, back to the lake where the sun was rising. “OK, when I say cheese, we’re smiling.”

“Harry, I know. I’ve taken a picture before.”

In the year since he bought his camera, he’d graduated from taking pictures of you and his surroundings, and had started incorporating what he described as “self-portraits” of the two of you in the mix, an interesting technique for someone who despised selfies any other time.

He took his place beside you, resting his left arm across your shoulders and using his right to position the camera in front of your faces.

“One, two, three, cheese!” he said as his finger pressed down on the shutter, the flash momentarily blinding both of you. “That’s going to be a great one, I just know it.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you asked as he put the camera back in the case. “Not knowing how it looks until later? Like what if it doesn’t turn out? You can’t recreate the moment.”

“It’s a game of chance but it’s kind of fun.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “We might not be able to recreate the moment, but we’ll always have the memory.”

“So when I look at that overexposed picture of me on the beach, I’ll always remember how annoying you were when I was trying to sleep.”

He kissed you. “Yes, and when we get this roll back and I’ve invariably misjudged how to frame both of us, we’ll always remember how overconfident I was that time at the lake.”

“In more ways than one,” you grimaced, remembering how the canoe you all had rented the day before had tipped after Harry insisted he knew how to steer.

“I heard that!”

“That was my intention!”

***

2019

“Please? I promise I’ll be careful.”

“Since when have you been interested in film photography?”

You and Harry were seated outside of a cafe in Tokyo, bundled up against the cold temperatures as you waited for your tea. He’d been in the city working on his new album and after a few weeks of settling in, he’d invited you to come out and spend some time with him. You could tell he loved Japan. There was an extra pep in his step and he lit up whenever he was able to take you to one of his favorite spots.

“I just want to learn. You’re like an expert now and maybe I want to be able to take a turn.”

“I sense an ulterior motive.”

“You’re right, Harry. It’s my evil plan to get payback for you harassing me with the camera for years.”

“I knew it!” His eyes crinkled as his face scrunched with delight. “We can stop by the apartment and pick it up after this. Get some practice in while we do some sightseeing?”

“That’s perfect.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Tokyo with the man you were certain was the love of your life. While he knew how to press your buttons and often enjoyed riling you up, he was unbelievably patient with you that day. He coached you through it all, helping you capture snapshots of buildings and dogs and even your dinner, offering gentle corrections whenever you went wrong.

That night, when you returned to the apartment you were calling home for the duration of your stay, you were still messing around with the camera and had started to see why Harry enjoyed it so much.

“Are you almost done?” Harry asked from the couch. The long day showed on his face and you knew that while he’d never admit it, he was tired and desperately ready for bed.

“Just one more,” you murmured, placing the camera in front of your eye and lining up Harry in the viewfinder. In the small square you could see him, curled up on the couch, head resting on his hand as he scrolled through his phone. You held your breath, not wanting to disturb him in this near perfect moment. As your finger pressed down on the shutter, he looked up, almost as if he had sixth sense.

“Another one?” he asked, a tired smile on his face.

“What? I learned from the best!”

You had no clue if the picture had turned out or not, but if you’d somehow managed to not fuck it up, you knew it would be your favorite.

***

2020

“Tell me what it is!”

“No!”

Harry pouted. “Please. Please tell me. I’m getting desperate here.”

You doused the package that had just arrived in Lysol, hoping that would be enough to fight off whatever was lurking on the cardboard. “If you keep whining, you’re not going to find out.”

“Fine. Should I start lunch?”

“Sure. I left some carrots and tomatoes on the cutting board if you want to throw those in a salad? I’m going to run this upstairs and then I can help.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question you any further. You scurried up the stairs and when you reached the bedroom, you looked behind you one more time to make sure that you were in fact alone. Confident that you were, you tore the tape off of the package and dumped its contents onto the bed.

Boredom was starting to set in after three weeks locked in the house, and with no end in sight, you’d decided to order a little entertainment for the both of you. Lingerie in a variety of colors and styles covered the bed. You sorted through the pieces, making sure the sizes were correct before hiding them in the drawer you thought Harry would be least likely to look in and heading back to meet him in the kitchen.

The two of you spent the afternoon just as you’d spent all the afternoons before, lounging by the pool, swimming laps, and planning your next meal. You put thoughts of your plan out of your head until just before dinner when you slipped on a lacy bra and panties underneath your shirt and shorts.

Dinner was essentially a repeat of the last 21 nights you’d spent together, though you didn’t mind the repetition, savoring the mundane moments with Harry after so many years of chaos. When you saw him rise from the table and head to the sink to start washing up, you put your plan into motion.

You crept up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face between his shoulder blades.

“Hello there,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“I didn’t think we were done,” you purred in your best attempt at a seductive whisper.

“Did you want dessert? I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer. There might be some of the pound cake left too.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Oh.”

Harry turned around to face you. “I’m in the mood for something a little spicier,” you said, pulling him towards you and planting an open-mouth kiss on him.

“Bedroom?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Yes, and don’t forget your camera.”

By the time Harry had made it upstairs, panting as though he’d sprinted a mile, you’d shed your clothes and had reclined on the bed in the little red number you’d unpacked earlier that day.

“I’m ready for my close up,” you said, a hint of shyness creeping up on you. While phone and FaceTime sex was nothing unfamiliar, there was something strangely intimate about exposing yourself in a way that would be captured permanently.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, slowly lifting the camera up. Click. Click. Click. “You look incredible, baby,” he said, pulling his eye away from the viewfinder to gaze at you in full. “Now how about you take that off.”

***

2021

“Big night, huh?” Nervous energy had been pulsing through the Vegas hotel room you were sharing with Harry, who was presently ignoring you. “Not even a smile, H? Come on!”

He looked up from his phone and pressed his lips together in an expression that might have resembled a smile if you had been standing across the room, squinting at him.

“Baby, don’t be nervous. You’ve been waiting so long for this, just like everyone else. It’s going to be amazing.”

“What if I’ve lost it?” His question caught you off guard.

“Your…talent?”

“Yeah. It’s been awhile. I’m kind of rusty.”

“That’s true you haven’t performed for anyone except me in 18 months.”

“And those shows are just for you.” His lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Can’t give the goods away to everyone.”

“I’d hope not.”

You reached across the sofa and squeezed his arm. “Seriously though, you could just stand on stage doing nothing and they’d love you. Everyone’s just so happy to be able to be together again.”

“I know, I know. It just feels like a big responsibility, performing, keeping people healthy, showing that we can do it all safely.”

“And there’s no one more prepared than you.” You pressed your lips against the back of his hand. “I’m going to shower. Are you going to head out?”

He glanced at the time on his phone. “Yeah, I probably should. Start getting ready.” Like clockwork there was a knock at the door, summoning him to the venue. He sighed. “I’ll see you there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He gave you a quick kiss, and you smiled at the casual display of affection. In the early days of your relationship every hug, kiss, cuddle, and fuck had been a production, with both of you giving it everything you had since you didn’t know when you’d see each other next. But after a year and a half together, knowing that Harry was only a room away, you didn’t feel the need to rush everything, a luxury you never thought you’d be afforded.

You arrived at the venue a couple hours later and made your way backstage. Your goal was always to stay out of sight, though Harry had a habit of bringing you into the fray. As you milled about the edge of the crowd that surrounded him, you managed to catch his eye. He was listening to the crew member that was walking him through something, but his gaze was locked on you the entire time. Though his mouth was covered, you could tell he was smiling based on the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. You were about to approach him when the crew began to pile around him, helping him climb into the box that would transport him under the stage. You quickly blew him a kiss, which he caught and slipped into his pants pocket.

With Harry ready to go, you followed Jeff out into the arena, feeling the butterflies swirl in your stomach as the show’s intro began. The crowd’s energy was contagious and you could feel your heart thudding as Harry ascended to the stage. You knew this was coming, having watched him rehearse it several times before and your phone was in your hand, ready to capture the moment.

You didn’t get a chance to look at the image until later that night when Harry was snoring beside you in bed. It wasn’t the perfect picture – the way your phone camera caught the light caused a bit of a lens flare, slightly obscuring Harry’s body, but his face was clear, the joy and happiness he felt evident by the huge smile on his face.

You never wanted to forget that moment.

You immediately set it as your lock screen.

***

2022

“You are worse than my mum!”

“I know you mean that as an insult, but your mother is an amazing woman, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Well, I don’t think we need to capture the car ride to the Today show.”

“She said she wanted updates on everything. And who am I to deny her that?” You positioned your phone in front of Harry’s face and snapped a quick picture. His disgruntled scowl filled your screen and you laughed. “The least you could do is smile.”

“What will it take for you to leave me alone? Ten dollars? Fifteen?”

“That’s all you have to offer me? A fifteen dollar bribe?”

“Hmm.” He drummed his index finger against his lip. “I’ll throw in a kiss.”

You pretended to ponder the offer before dropping your phone in your lap. “You drive a hard bargain.”

He laughed lightly, reaching across the center seat to interlace his fingers with yours. “I know it’s a big week and that everyone wants to cheer me on every moment, but I also just kind of want things to be normal, you know. Just five minutes where it’s not all about me. To balance it all out.”

“Well then, I guess now would be the perfect time for me to bring up the fact that you left your socks and underwear on the floor of the bathroom for the third day in a row. How hard is it to pick up after yourself? Just because you have an album coming out doesn’t mean you’re off the hook when it comes to chores.” He was smiling at you now, the scowl from earlier long gone.

“Oh! Also, I need your advice on a couple of things. First, I’m getting my nails done tomorrow and I need to decide which shape I should do, and the color. I’m feeling like maybe a glitter? And then I wanted to try this new coffee. And the Instagram I saw it on said it’s best with almond milk. But I don’t like almond milk. So do you think it would work with oat milk?”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “First, my sincerest apologies about the underwear. It won’t happen again.”

“Famous last words.”

He squeezed your hand. “Second, you should absolutely do a glitter and maybe whatever the pointy shape is?”

“Why?”

“Feels nice when you have long nails and scratch at my hair and…other things.” You shot him a surprised glance as he flushed. “Anyways,” he continued, clearing his throat. “I don’t think the milk matters. You won’t be able to taste it with all the flavoring.”

The car came to a stop and you could hear the screams from the crowd, even with the windows shut. Harry took a deep breath and you scratched at his arm.

“I have some serious questions for you about what dog breed I most resemble, but we can get into that whenever you're done with this thing.” You gestured out the window.

Harry smiled, the first true authentic one to grace his lips that morning. “Thank you,” he said.

You knew exactly what he meant. “Anytime, baby.” You picked your phone up again. “But just one more for the road.”

***

2023

“One more step. And another one.”

Harry’s voice was low in your ear, his hands were over your eyes as he guided you into the living room of your London home. You all walked awkwardly, you standing in front of him as he nudged you, one step at a time, further into the room.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just blindfold me?” you huffed as he stepped on the back of your heel for the third time.

“So you’re not enjoying this?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You stepping on me? No, not particularly.” Your shin made contact with what you assumed was the coffee table and you yelped. “Harry, for the love of God just tell me what’s going on.”

“Calm down, don’t get yourself all worked up. But keep your eyes closed” He moved his hands down to your shoulders and spun you around so you were facing the opposite direction. Opposite of what you didn’t know, but you could feel Harry wrap his arms around your waist. “OK, you can open them.”

When you opened your eyes, you blinked several times adjusting to the dim light that surrounded you, and once your vision had been restored, your jaw dropped.

The painting that usually hung on the wall in your living room had been removed, and a clothesline had been strung in its place, zig-zagging across the wall. “Is that-?” You turned to look at Harry.

“Why don’t you go see?”

You stepped forward out of his grasp and determined that your first impression was right. Small photographs had been hung on the line with clothespins. Photographs from every stage of your relationship with Harry.

Group shots from those early outings when you were both too scared to make a move, instead settling for the buffer of mutual friends. Photographs from the first vacation you took with one another, the fateful trip when he’d bought his first film camera. Pictures from every family gathering, big and small. Selfies snapped at concerts, goofy Snapchats with every filter imaginable, and even a portrait your mother had taken of you at your graduation – you were smiling wide, looking straight at the camera while Harry beamed at you, his pride evident.

You felt the tears involuntarily well in your eyes as you were overcome by the realization of just how much Harry loved you and how much you loved him. “H, this is incredible but what’s this all for?” You turned around to face him, and you couldn’t tell if it was your own blurry vision, but it looked like Harry was crying too.

“We’ve been through so much and have so many snapshots of our lives. But I want a whole fucking album with you.” Time moved in slow motion as he reached into his pocket and sank down onto one knee. He held a film canister in his hand and when he opened it, a ring fell out. “What do you say, love? Do you want to keep me in the picture forever?”

You laughed, cheeks wet, as you nodded. “Of course.”

Harry rose from the floor, slipping the ring onto your finger before he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. You looked up at him when you all broke apart, frowning when you saw him fishing around in his pockets again.

“H, I don’t think anything can beat this surprise.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding you close as he lifted his phone. “I just want to capture this moment.”  

***

talk to me!

[marimayscarlett]

'The Persistence of Memory' turns 3 years old today 💿🎶

On the 12th of November, 2021, Richard released his fourth Emigrate album with the title 'The Persistence of Memory'. (The release date was initially set for November 5 but was pushed back a week.)

This album is especially significant in Richard's career and for Emigrate as a whole. It emerged as a form of dynamic, active therapy for Richard, who fell into a deep depression after the 2019 stadium tour, which left him riddled with self-doubt. He questioned whether music was still for him or if he should walk away from it altogether.

"Inside me, various wars were raging, and I felt like I had to stop making music. I couldn’t see any purpose in it anymore. It was a really hard crash landing, unlike anything I’d experienced before. There was a real emptiness inside me. Even for us, this stadium tour was something new. And when everyone tells you how great and good you are, whether it’s true or not, you feel like you’re in withdrawal once it’s over. I had to find my way back to earth."

Even before the COVID pandemic began, Richard had already retreated into a form of isolation, unaware that the pandemic would intensify this feeling. To actively combat and process these emotions, Richard delved into his musical archive, taking a journey into the past. Through various demos, song parts, and ideas he’d accumulated since Emigrate's early days, he found his spirits lifting and regained inspiration.

"My present was unpleasant, and my future was empty. So I immersed myself in my past. It was the only thing I had. I stumbled upon all these old songs and ideas and took another close look at them. They helped me move back into the present and finally look forward to the future again—a time travel back to inspiration."

The album was recorded at Sky van Hoff studios and Richard’s own Studio Engine 55 Berlin. His creative process involved reworking old lyrics, re-arranging songs, re-recording parts, and generally polishing up existing tracks.

The oldest of these songs is 'Freeze My Mind' which is 20 years old at the time of the album's release and is also Richard’s oldest song for Emigrate. He had reportedly written it with his then-wife Caron Bernstein around 2001.

“I wrote ‘Freeze My Mind’ in New York City; it must have been around 9/11. I was living in New York at the time and saw the second plane hit the tower. Watching people fall from the tower deeply affected me.”

'Bloodstained Wedding' originated in 2007 and 2011 and was inspired by his time in New York, while 'Hypothetical' previously featured on the album 'Silent So Long', was now sung by Richard himself instead of Marilyn Manson. Richard transformed 'Always on My Mind' into an epic rendition of the classic Elvis song with Till Lindemann, and he reworked 'Come Over' at the encouragement of his son, Merlin, who was enthusiastic about the song.

'I’m Still Alive' had already existed since the first Emigrate album (originally titled 'Yeah Yeah Yeah'), and the music video fittingly combines old footage from 2007 with new clips from 2021.

Richard did not shy away from serious themes on this album. 'Rage' addresses the difficulty of reentering social life after the isolation of COVID, a struggle Richard personally experienced. 'You Can’t Run Away' was written in response to numerous messages from fans expressing suicidal thoughts and sharing how much his music had helped them.

Richard mentioned that he views this album as a kind of closure for this Emigrate era: “This album might be the end of an era, the close of a chapter before something new begins.” While working on this album, he collaborated with Andrea Marino on electronic remixes, although he did not release them, hinting instead at a future electro album to explore this genre more fully.

The album artwork, depicting Richard’s head in a galaxy-like nebula, was created by Arnaud Giroux. It symbolizes the album and the creative process itself - “It’s about creating worlds and looking at things from a different perspective” as Richard describes it. The title itself was inspired by the painting by Salvador Dali with the same name.

One of Richard's announcement of his new album on his IG Profil:

The Persistence of Memory was a process that started 14 years ago. After a rough period in my life, it became clear to me that now is the right time to put it out.

The process to get to a point always interested me more than the point itself, struggling to get somewhere and constantly pushing boundaries makes me feel alive.

I AM STILL ALIVE.

"THE PERSISTENCE OF MEMORY" out this Friday.

Credit: @tobias_ortmann

Some additional quotes by Richard from interviews he gave around the time of the release:

Would you let your Rammstein colleagues listen to an Emigrate album before its release?

"No, definitely not. (laughs) Though someone like Flake would probably be very open to it. We have a lot of respect for each other and regularly stay in touch. For instance, I often listen to his radio show—and then call him afterward to ask what kind of weird stuff he’s been talking about again. (laughs)"

"I just realized in an interview with another magazine that every time I make an album, there’s a very dark backstory to it. It’s never that I’m just cheerfully going through life, feeling fantastic, and then think, 'Now I’ll write a new EMIGRATE album.' It always coincides with a significant change in my life."

"The funny thing was that I got the inspiration for the cover because of the song 'Always On My Mind.' When I listened to the song, I had the idea that it wasn’t actually about a relationship with a person, but rather about our planet. That’s where the cover idea came from, with the face gazing at the Earth."

sources: rammwiki web.de Berliner Zeitung Chaoszine metal.de

[ripeteeth]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thanks, @danpuff-ao3! You’re always a treat to see on the dash and I hope you’ve been having a lovely break <3.

I’m always a bit awkward with these, both from an itching sort of discomfort with staring my own artwork in the face, and I think from a lifetime habit of denying compliments out of a feeling of guilt or fear. So! I’ve had a glass of wine (and an edible) and I’m going to try to kinder to myself. I might be in the mood to talk right now. (Honestly, that’s a good sign. One of the big elements of my recent writer’s block has been an inability to express myself in any written way, even tumblr posts and comments. Maybe this is why I hit twitter so hard.)

My five favorite fics. Not my five best fics. Not my five most popular fics. My favorites. Hmm.

5. blood, bones, and butter | MDZS/The Untamed] SongXueXiao | E, 12,443

“A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.”

Ah, Yi City, that deliciously painful Shakespearean tragedy echoing Wangxian’s romance. The specific notes of obsession, revenge, love, and grief that run through these three make me completely unhinged. I love the quiet service and stoic devotion of Song Lan, the otherworldliness and power of Xiao Xingchen, the unchecked brilliance and cruelty that fill up Xue Yang. The Yi City fandom is easily one of the most incredible fandoms I’ve ever been a part of, full of uniquely talented and deranged writers and artists who love to really explore the dark edges and nitty-gritty of these character and let them be their fucked-up selves. The appeal of SongXueXiao isn’t to make it better for them, it’s to see how much you can make it worse.

It’s two pretty classic tropes: a first time after meeting at a bar, and also a story told from alternating POVs. I really wanted to focus on trying to carve out distinctive interiorities, like their motivations, their assumptions, their fears, their memories, and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions without spelling these all out outright. I’d recently rewatched Rashomon, and I love how the understanding of an event can be so differently shaped by each person’s POV and I wanted to show their first night together in that way, moving the lens over the night a few times, before it gets clear. It was a really fun process to focus on and I think it’s one of my best pieces of recent writing.

4. in search of the wind | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | E, 27,112

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

I remember writing this almost immediately after the show aired, in that heady summer of 2019, when I feel head over sweaty heels for that charming demon and his delicious epicure of an angel. This is essentially how I saw canon going on, this is the headcanon of my soul. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen season 2 yet? It was a pleasure to write, almost like knitting together different scenes, different pieces of history, like an extended version of the s1s3 cold open. It’s Aziraphale without a body, unmoored in time, turning up at different points along his and Crowley’s history, and realizing that his friend is in love with him. That his friend is heartrendingly in love with him. I love stories that play with structure, striking different chords each time.

I couldn’t write this kind of story again. This belongs to a very specific time.

3. White Light, White Heat | Harry Potter | Snape/Harry | E, 32,107

“In 1347, Benedictine monk and scholar Severus Snape goes to fetch a young man joining the abbey. In 1347, rumors come of a strange and unrelenting plague from the east.”

An AU set in a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery in Britain during the period of the Black Death where the two men develop a bond through a special sort of crucible. Snape, as always, falls in love with all the grace of a cat being given a bath. As dark as the material is, this was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun describing the setting, peppering fun little facts like a Pop Up Video of Medieval History. I wrote this in a fever-fueled three weeks, absolutely obsessed with getting it down exactly as it was in my head. I loved writing the monster theme and using it as almost a leitmotif for Snape. There’s probably a literary term for that. Is there? Anyway.

2. the body as anagram | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames, Crozier/Ross] | E, 3090

“In the dark, it doesn't matter which James is in his bed. As long as Ross doesn't speak, the illusion holds true.”

I took the title from a passage on J.G. Ballard’s Crash by Baudrillard in Simulacra and Simulation: “Technology is never grasped except in the (automobile) accident, that is to say in the violence done to technology itself and in the violence done to the body. It is the same: any shock, any blow, any impact, all the metallurgy of the accident can be read in the semiurgy of the body — neither an anatomy nor a physiology, but a semiurgy of contusions, scars, mutilations, wounds that are so many new sexual organs opened on the body. In this way, gathering the body as labor in the order of production is opposed to the dispersion of the body as anagram in the order of mutilation.”

There’s something a bit haunting about the parallels of the two men who held the intimacy of Francis Crozier’s friendship. The name. The confidence. The bravery. The charming manner and handsome face. I love the idea of a Francis who sails out pining for one man and returns home loving another, switching between true love and placeholder. And I’m notoriously a slut for both proxyfucking and Gremlin!Francis, who just can’t stop pressing on the wound of his grief. It’s not the drink but it may as well be, for all this is good for either he or Ross, but Francis is a fool in love with a dead man and he does what he does to get by.

Something about this came together, from concept to finish, in a way I’m quite happy with. It was fun to play with concepts and free associate from them, focusing less on plot, but more on the vast empty grief in Francis’ chest. Everyone here knows this is a bad idea. No one is having a good time.

1. Revachol Calling | Disco Elysium | Karry/Kim | E, 35,321 [WIP]

“Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns. A study in Kim Kitsuragi.”

Sometimes you just feel the next part of the story in your bones. When I first played Disco Elysium in 2021 it hit me in an incredibly familiar, emotional way. There’s something somber and hopeful about it. The writing is sardonic, dark and humorous. It’s nearly cynical but it’s cynical with a sad old smile, because cynicism is born through disappointment, and through not quite being ready to give up. I think we can all find ourselves in it, in one way or another and, like many, I’m hopelessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi, a wild creature who’s built himself within thousands of rules. I can’t play the game without craving his side of the story, his interiority, his history, so I grab at the little crystals of information, such as his secret love of Speedfreaks FM and his past with Eyes, and I try to imagine it might go. This is my sequel to the game and, more than anything, this is my love song to Revachol, a character of a city, and one that echoes vastly in all those of post-Communist country and family.

For some reason, this fic is extremely visual for me and usually in a Wong Kar-Wai sort of fashion. Think the saturated aquamarines of a neon diner sign. Think a studio apartment with cheap wallpaper and the yellow-orange flicker of sodium lights. It comes alive at night, when Kim is left alone with his thoughts, running out of rules to keep him safely in. I love that Disco Elysium has such a vast world to explore. It’s an endless playbox.

And this is also, in a way, a bit of an elegy to a belief I’d once held in a motherland, and do not anymore.

I’m almost done with Chapter 8, so hopefully it will be up soon <3

Tagging! @jaggededges123 @soft-october-night @wildcard47 @rcmclachlan @brawlite @zaxal @pearwaldorf @kiingbooooo @darcylindbergh @et-in-arkadia @itsevidentvery @iodhadh @iamwestiec @mia-ugly @laurashapiro-noreally @pinehutch and anyone else who wishes to!

[what-gs-watching]

"Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we can go off together!"

So. I was supposed to be in Boston this weekend enjoying some well-earned time with my tiny baby nephews that I haven’t seen in over four months, but, right before my flight, I tested positive for COVID because my husband’s job is stupid and they forced him into an in-person trip last week and tada! EVERYONE got COVID. 

I’m furious. So I got into bed and I cried about it and I felt sorry for myself and I tried to settle down and THEN I saw the news about Good Omens season 3. 

And so now I’m feeling more terrible things on top of terrible things. And I hate it. And I’m devastated. And slightly relieved. And sad. And grateful. 

If y’all are unaware, season 3 is now just a single, 90 minute episode that will supposedly wrap up a universe that has become so large, so important, to so many. And that feels like a gut punch.

The thing is - Good Omens saved me last year. I’d watched the first season when it came out in 2019 and then kind of forgot about it, but was excited when I learned about the second one. I went back and re-watched the first and then dived into the second and it took over my heart and my brain. I finished it maybe a week or two before I was unceremoniously fired from my toxic-as-fuck job and I was absolutely unmoored and I needed something

And thankfully, Good Omens was there. It was a way for me to shut my brain off, lose myself, without actually losing myself. I absolutely could have been extremely self-destructive just then, I have that streak in me and it runs deep, but I didn’t have to follow it because I was too distracted by a 6,000 year love story between two beautiful idiots. 

So I watched the entire thing again (and again) because I couldn’t get over it, the brainrot was real and welcome, and I wrote about it here, and then I found the @goodomensafterdark subreddit (because it turns out, I’m a little bit of a creep and so are they) and I fell into fanfic and all of that is the main reason I made it through nine months of devastating, trying, numbing, soul-crushing unemployment. 

And maybe found myself a little bit, too. I’ve changed, I know I have, and it’s good and it’s odd and I think I like it.

And all of that is absolutely because there’s such a huge community around this show. It’s absolutely fucking beloved and it speaks to weirdos like me because it’s malleable and it can be whatever it needs to, to whoever needs it. There’s so much possibility, the breadth and depth of the universe and all of its history and two perfectly imperfect characters finding themselves and each other inside it. The potential of the story is alluring. And the things that have been created by the people who connected with it, the art and the words, it’s beautiful (‘Pray for us, Icarus’ and ‘Factory Settings’ and ‘How do we turn on the light’ and fucking ‘Shutgun Wedding’ and people like @vavoom-sorted-art and goddamn @gleafer, I mean FUCK), and it helps this world we all cherish expand even further. 

Which is why the people that love it, that have been touched by it, just want an ending that does it justice. And it’s horrific to have to accept that someone who helped create this universe and these characters that have dug themselves into our lives could be an absolute fucking degenerate, but honestly, haven’t we’ve moved beyond that? They don’t belong to him now, they belong to all of us. It’s heart wrenching to think that one piece of shit could taint something so beautiful, so I understand the grief. We were promised more time, and it’s hard to let go of that.  

But it could have been worse. Based on the chatter Amazon was ready to pull the plug entirely and I get that, why risk it? Who wants to roll the dice on something apparently partially created by someone like that? Cutting their losses just makes sense. 

So I’m thankful too, that we get something, and we get something because there are still good and amazing people behind this thing that love it as much as we do. That understand it’s become bigger than just another show churned out by one of the many streamers. That’s something we can rejoice in. 

The important part is, we’ll get an ending. And it’ll be ‘canon’, but you know what, y’all? Fuck canon. We apparently have been following the wrong anti-christ all this time, so does it really matter what’s considered “true”? We’ll get to see David and Michael bring something to life one more time, and that’s beautiful, being able to visualize it - appreciating the swing of Crowley’s hips and Aziraphale’s micro expressions and his heart eyes and the very specific and beautiful chemistry these two overwhelmingly perfect actors bring to these characters, but that doesn’t have to be the final word, it doesn’t have to be the ONLY thing we get - 

because Good Omens has a life of its own, it’s a self-contained universe and it invites anyone in, all of us in. Whoever you are, come as you are, join this weird fucking multiverse and make of it what you need. 

Aziraphale and Crowley are husbands. They’re wives. They’re best friends. They’re eldritch horrors. Crowley never fell. Aziraphale fell. Neither of them fell. Both of them fell. They’re angels and demons. They’re humans. They’re a ghost story. And a love story. And a horrifically tragic story. And a fantasy. And a fairytale. And they’re trapped in a time loop. Or they both spent 6,000 years on earth but didn’t meet each until recently. They’re feuding history professors. Or unlikely roommates. Or exes trying to reconnect. They’re an archangel and a duke of hell attempting to stop the fucking second coming. 

They’re soulmates attempting to settle in the South Downs and figure out what it finally means to choose each other. 

They’re all of that. They’re everything, all at once. They’re whatever you see in them, they’re what you need them to be. 

The point is, these last 90 minutes, these precious 90 minutes, are hard won, and I’m starting to believe they’ll be beautiful and satisfying because I need to, but they’re also just a jumping-off point. The story doesn’t end. The universe continues to grow. Because all of you wonderful people out there, writing and creating and appreciating something that speaks to you, sharing it, letting it connect us. 

Beauties, Good Omens belongs to all of us. It’s bigger than flawed humanity and dubious business decisions. It’s OURS. So feel what you feel, but also feel lucky, because like Michael said, it’s going to be okay. After all, even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we can still go off together (forever, in whatever way we choose).

[lord-of-the-margins]

Recent thoughts on Transgenderism

Tumblr, I think it’s time we approach the gender talk.

I’ve been very angry at liberals since about 2022. Before that (2019-2021) I was terrified of them. I grew up as a liberal in a very liberal area. I knew one moderate conservative. All I’ve known is liberal perspectives and ideologies for most of my life. I went to Evergreen State college for years (super senior). I lived in the epicenter of woke.

I’m not going to be a liberal ever again. Being around a lot of liberals, like in a city, makes me nervous. That’s how bad things have been in my little world. All the bridges have been burnt and every knife has somehow found its way into my back. I’ve since taken them out and re-calibrated my expectations.

Still, I have gender issues. They’ve gotten a lot better. And gender shit is still consuming society for no real reason other than to spread misery it seems.

Because of how horrifically poorly liberal society handles the issue of transsexualism and transgenderism, I’m scared to share the new insights I’ve made regarding gender dysphoria. The way the left fetishizes and commodifies mental illness is truly disturbing. The teenage impulse to commandeer and mimic mental illness for attention is never discouraged at any point. Not even in fully grown adults.

If I tell you what I’ve discovered, I’m afraid you will destroy yet another portion of the DSM in a misguided attempt to validate me. It is not validating. You are harming people. I needed the DSM to figure out what was happening. I needed psychologists to push back on my impulses. I’m glad they did. They can no longer do so without fear of being slandered as transphobic.

I look at the work you’ve done on behalf of the trans community and it reads as a collection of demons trying their best to fix society.

So yeah.

I like Tumblr for reasons other than politics. I don’t really want to talk about politics on here all that much. But this national gender dysphoria the younger generations all seem to have is hard to ignore. It can also be offensive. I’ve felt as offended by Zoomers and Alphas trying to be inclusive as I did from Gen X trying to hurt my feelings. So that’s been a fun little discovery I’ve made about myself and the world. Maybe you just can’t escape it. It’s part of life either way. And if you’re fucking around with gender, it’s inevitable. Maybe constant offense needs to happen just to make this demented form of self-expression that less attractive. Because a trans identity is not an attractive endeavor. It doesn’t make for attractive men and women. If you must do it, you need a thick skin just to look at yourself in the mirror let alone to hear what anyone else has to say about it. It’s signing up for a lifetime of disappointment and can only be explained through mental illness.

To conclude, what I found behind the mental illness was even more mental illness. Given liberals’ inclination to celebrate, imitate, and capitalize on mental illness, I don’t think it would be wise for me to tell you about what I did to make the pain of gender dysphoria go away.

What I will tell you is that I had to recognize that I suffered incredible abuse growing up. Truly exceptional abuse. I’ve been studying books on the matter on and off for about four years now. I had to learn a lot of new things and it was very overwhelming at first. It changed how I saw myself and even how I view reality. It’s been quite a journey.

None of the resources I used were made by anyone in the trans community. None whatsoever. All the people who helped me wrote their books in saner times. Your big gay trans social justice movement didn’t help me one bit. Just like feminism has never really helped me personally. Because exceptional people don’t need a parade to get their foot in the door.

Whenever I get close to woke people, I get nervous. I’ve gotten better at sensing that malevolent energy. Since I grew up with it, it took some time to suss it out. It took a massive fuck up, followed up with sticking to my convictions, to feel about fifty knives in my back before it finally sank in.

A lot of damage has been done and yet there are people under the left’s banner I could still care for. People who make uplifting art that has truly helped me. If I hadn’t found them, I wouldn’t have bothered writing this. So I guess this is for the innocent, the clueless, the kind.

I would only consider seriously talking about gender dysphoria with the public if and only if the DSM once again recognizes transsexualism and transgenderism as mental illnesses and the American Psychological Association allows its practitioners to discourage transitioning.

[justzawe]

Zawe Ashton Covers AMAZING Magazine | Issue 4

Actor, author, playwright and new mum Zawe Ashton adds another string to her bow: supervillain. As she joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she tells AMAZING about her love of poetry, getting physical on the set of The Marvels and the unwavering support of her own parents.

Zawe Ashton is no stranger to playing the antagonist. From her very first film role as rude schoolgirl Bianca in 2009’s St Trinian's 2: The Legend Of Fritton's Gold, to playing the intimidatingly cool Violet “Vod” Nordstrom in four seasons of student sitcom Fresh Meat and – more recently - as the rejected Julia Thistlewaite in 2022 period drama, Mr. Malcolm’s List, Ashton has a knack for taking on characters who appear unlikeable on paper… and making audiences fall in love with them. However, for her latest role as Dar-Benn in The Marvels, she had to go full villain.

“Very little can prepare you to have to embody an antagonist at this level, in a Universe that is literally not known to anyone – like our Space - and to make it real and impactful,” says the London-born actor, a new recruit to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “There's something deeply humbling about having to return to the sandbox; you have to go back to the playground and that was something I was not expecting. You have to indulge in adult play and it’s surprisingly vulnerable. I know that there are gamers out there, there are cosplayers out there, there are adults who have managed to keep that level of childlike play going and I respect it so much. There's a self-consciousness that can take over if you are not careful. Trying to react realistically to a laser coming towards you is not something I’d done since I was seven years old, and I had to get to that level of childlike confidence to just delve into the imagination. Once that was all clearer, the villainous elements came so much from the physical world, with costume and hair.”

For 39-year-old Ashton, adult play will likely become a more frequent fixture in her life, thanks to her most exciting new role – as a mother. She welcomed her first child in 2022 with fiancé Tom Hiddleston, her co-star in the 2019 revival of Harold Pinter's Betrayal on London’s West End, later transferred to Broadway. “What has genuinely surprised me about motherhood is how much I don't feel ready to talk about it,” she laughs. “And this isn’t to shut down the conversation. I have gained so much insight from public people who have this incredible candour and this disarming, relatable dialogue about it very early on, but it's something that I am just dedicating time to absorbing. I’m listening rather than expelling energy. That genuinely has surprised me, because it's something you want to shout from the rooftops about; it's the most unparalleled, most important role in my life. The surprise has been how quiet I want to be about it. Maybe that's also me as a writer and this is something that will come through the pen at some point.”

Ashton attended London’s Anna Scher Theatre School from the age of six and was a member of the National Youth Theatre, before getting her degree in acting at Manchester Metropolitan University, but writing has always been significant in her life. She won the London Poetry Slam Championship in 2000, becoming the event’s youngest winner, at 17. “I may have been knocked off that pillar long ago, but in my head I'm still the youngest,” she laughs. “I love poetry. I had not written for a really long time; during the pandemic I lost a huge chunk of my creative soul when it came to putting pen to paper, which was really scary and was clearly the fallout of being in survival mode and feeling quite fearful. People's attention spans just went all sorts of different ways, didn't they? It was very hard for me to read, and it was very hard for me to write, which is very strange for me.

“More recently, a friend of mine from drama school who I used to do open mic nights with in Manchester – I used to perform poetry and she used to sing - asked me to write a poem for her wedding. I had a few moments where it was really tough, but I did it. I love her and I'm so happy for her, and being inspired enough to get a poem out and read it aloud really opened the floodgates. So, weirdly enough, I've been writing a lot of poetry recently and found a new love for it. I will always continue to use poetry as a way to understand the world. It's just so much part of who I am.”

For Zawe's full interview and shoot, order your copy of AMAZING issue 4 now. The Marvels is out now.

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 5

Interlude: Nick & Jazz

Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x OFC (Jasmine/Jazz)

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

!!!PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

CW: motor vehicle accident, description of major bodily injury, character death, self-harm/violence, deeply painful angst

*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.9K

Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople / @cookiesupplier / @jiizzy / @bngurngheart / @signs-of-ill-portent

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

Author's Note: I'm so sorry please forgive me 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

2017

He hears her before he sees her—the boisterous sound of her laughter echoing through the record store. It brings a smile to his face, widening further when he looks in her direction to find she’s alone at the small book display, flipping through one and laughing to herself. 

He feels so typical and uninspired when he thinks it, but he’s sure she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. She’s remarkable, but so effortless, too, in sweatpants and sneakers and a long black pea coat, long dark hair splayed messily over her shoulders. He longs to know everything about her, but averts his eyes instead, returning to his browsing.

Their paths converge some time later in the rock section, right around the ‘M’, and he feels like a creep when he can smell her—like dove soap and doublemint gum. There’s a warmth radiating from her that he’s unsure if he’s imagining, but it heats his skin when they reach for the same record and her hand brushes against his own.

She pulls her hand back quickly like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. He takes the opportunity to pick the record up and turn to face her. She looks to her feet with a small smile before glancing back up, a blush painting her cheeks a pretty shade of pink.

He wants the record, but he’s never been one to deny a pretty girl.

“You can have it,” Nick tells her, holding the vinyl out. She takes it from him gently, like it’s a trick he’s playing and she has to be extra careful. “If you tell me about your favorite song.”

She rolls her eyes and he's sure he’s in love with her. He has half a mind not to call his mama and tell her all about her future daughter-in-law once he leaves here this afternoon. 

It’s not a trick question. He really wants to know.

“It’s not a trick question,” Nick says. “I really want to know.”

She tilts the record forward to look at the track listing on the back. He worries for a moment that he caught her buying a gift for a friend—she doesn’t give a fuck about Modest Mouse, and she doesn’t want to be bothered by this weird man in the record store when she’s just trying to enjoy her Saturday.

“Okay, don’t judge me,” she starts, and Nick settles immediately, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I know it’s a boring answer, but I really like Dramamine,” she continues, scanning Nick’s face for a response. He nods, prompting her to keep talking. “It’s like finding a photo of an old friend you haven’t spoken to in years, or accepting death, or lying on the floor of your childhood bedroom, or—” she pauses, shaking her head and laughing to herself. “Have you ever noticed how it actually sounds like motion sickness?”

He hadn’t noticed, but as he plays the song to himself in his head—she’s a smart girl.

“That’s my favorite, too,” Nick settles for instead, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Nick.”

She takes his hand readily, smiling softly at him. “Jasmine.”

It suits her.

He lets her buy the record, allowing himself to be delusional and deciding it’ll just become part of their shared collection one day anyway.

He leaves the store with something much better—her phone number. He calls his mom to tell her all about it on his walk home.

2019

“Can you stop unpacking and come relax with me, please?” Nick asks.

She’s been running around the house for hours, trying to get everything in perfect order. Their house.

She floats through their new space so beautifully. He can’t wait to share everything with her—a kitchen, a bathroom, a closet, a bed. He can’t wait to wake up next to her every single morning, even the early ones. No more goodbyes on Sunday evenings.

“Hold on, Nicky, I’m looking for something,” Jasmine responds. Nick props himself on an elbow, laying on his side and admiring her as she digs through boxes. When she finds what she’s looking for, she makes a pleased little sound that cuts straight through him, speeding up his heart rate as he smiles at her. “Here it is. Remember this?”

He told himself he would make it part of their shared collection one day. 

“Yeah, Jazzy, I do,” Nick responds, chest tightening pleasantly at the memory of that cold Saturday afternoon in his favorite record store. “Put it on and come lay with me, honey?”

He curls around her when she joins him in bed, resting his head on her soft tummy. She runs a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes. He feels himself slipping away to sleep as the song plays, her fingers stilling in his hair, no doubt exhausted herself. The hand moves to his cheek and he can feel her warmth radiating through the both of them. He wraps himself around her tighter, getting as close as he physically can.

Traveling, swallowing, dramamine—

He never wants to be anywhere but here, with this girl who makes him feel so safe. He wants to keep her safe forever, too.

2021

He’s getting a little tired of these double shifts—coming in at open and staying until close. He comes home bone-tired, sleeps for a few hours and does it all again. It’s agonizing, made even more so when he remembers that he’s done it to himself.

He feels bad for Jazz more than anything. He knows that she’s been feeling neglected, and he wishes he could tell her why. He always tries to reassure her, but he isn’t so sure it helps. It’s only for a little while longer, though. He’s almost where he needs to be.

He got his shift covered tonight. He feels too guilty to leave Jasmine all alone for dinner for a 5th night in a row, so he has Jesse coming in for him at 6.

I’m off at 6 tonight, Jazzy. What do you want to do for dinner?

It’s close to time for him to leave when he gets the chance to look at his phone again.

Won’t be home for dinner, sorry.

It’s a tone so unlike her that his stomach twists uncomfortably. He doesn’t blame her—Nick shouldn’t have expected her to be home by herself on a Saturday night without knowing ahead of time that he’d be home early.

He should have told her earlier on, but he wanted it to be a nice surprise.

He was looking forward to a night in with her, and with the promise of no Jasmine when he gets home, he almost wants to call Jesse and tell him nevermind. They haven’t had quality time in what feels like ages—he feels so guilty. Their house feels empty without her.

His heart drops into his stomach when he steps through the front door of their home, finding it half empty.

Almost as if Jazz had taken all of her things and left.

He stands paralyzed in the entryway for a long while, pointedly avoiding the handwritten note he sees lying on the coffee table. Somehow, he thinks this would hurt a whole lot less if he didn’t understand why she would do it.

It seems unlike her to leave without warning, but he can’t begin to imagine how she’s been feeling. An unintended consequence of working so much to save up for them is that she’s been left so alone, and he wishes he’d thought of that. He wishes he had listened to her when she asked for him to cut back—that they were doing okay right now—but he put too much faith in how much she can take.

She’s so strong, but she shouldn’t have to be.

His instinct is to call her, but he should hear her out first. He trudges into the living room and picks up the note. The words he finds written in her pretty scrawl make him ache.

Nicky, I know I shouldn’t do it like this, but I know I wouldn’t be able to go through with it face to face. I love you, but I deserve someone who puts me above working themselves sick. When you’re ready for that, you can let me know. Love, Jazz

He looks to their listening setup, their vinyl collection thinned significantly, with one glaring exception. Sitting atop the turntable is the Modest Mouse record, their record, as if she’d played it one last time trying to change her mind and left anyway.

It’s hers. He wanted her to have it. She should have taken it with her when she left.

She shouldn’t have left.

His mind swims when he tries to decide what to do, whether to call her now or give her time. If he calls now and begs for her to come home, she isn’t going to buy it. She’ll think he’s panicking and feeling rejected and he doesn’t mean it.

But he does. He needs her home.

He has his phone in his violently shaking hand, about to press the call button, when another call comes through.

“Mrs. Pierce, hi,” Nick says, voice cracking embarrassingly. “Is Jazz with you?”

“Sweetheart…” Jasmine’s mom starts, the only thing he truly processes before there’s a whooshing in his ears and his entire world shatters.

She tells him that Jazz has been in an accident. She didn’t make it.

It’s worse knowing that she didn’t die instantly. He thinks of his sweet girl, crushed and terrified, and it takes all of his strength to stay upright. He wishes it had been him.

Mrs. Pierce extends her apologies as if she isn’t going through worse, losing her daughter so young. Nick promises to visit her tomorrow and when he hangs up the call, his head pounds and his vision narrows.

He can’t keep himself from doing it when he screams at the top of his lungs, a blood-curdling OH, FUCK no doubt reaching the neighbors’ house—the police will be here any minute if he keeps this up. He smashes his phone, grabbing anything he can reach and smashing that, too. 

This is Jasmine’s house. She is what made it a home, and if she’s wrecked, so should the house be.

His fist meets the brick wall of their living room time and time again until his fingers and knuckles are bloody and mangled.

He doesn’t have the wherewithal to wonder how many stitches he’ll need. He has nowhere to put all of the anger he feels and will continue to feel as long as he has to live with the knowledge that he could have prevented this.

He should have told her that he had his shift covered tonight and would be home early to take her out for a nice dinner. He should have told her that he was working so many doubles to save for the engagement ring he knows she’s been eyeing, the pretty emerald cut garnet ring with the white gold band.

She would have told him to cut back, that she doesn’t need anything fancy. He knows her well enough that he should have known that, but she deserves the best.

She would have been home if he had just fucking told her. She would still be here.

He stares at his hands, sure to scar and decides it’s what he deserves. He’ll never let himself be happy again, because he promised to keep her safe and she can’t be.

[idontplaytrack]

Off Night

AJ Campos x chronically ill fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, coarse language, chronic illness/pain(costochondritis is painful asf— has not went away for me since 2019😖) flare up descriptions

In which reader has something they’d call an ‘off night’.

Writing this bc I need it rn🤐 I’m a self-indulgent writer at my core😄

(Pictures used above are from Pinterest & Tumblr)

With each breath you took, the wider the pain spread across and around your ribcage causing you to wince. An unintentional groan left your lips as you laid in bed uncomfortably, on your side. AJ walks into the room to check on you, informing you that dinner would be ready soon.

“I don’t feel like eating.”

She sits down beside you, gently running her hand up and down your back. Very gently. And yet it still made you flinch. “I’m sorry.” AJ apologises for hurting you more and for how you were feeling.

“Is there anything I can get you?” She asks softly, her eyes studying you worriedly.

“Unless I can get a new body, no.” You answered bluntly.

She presses a kiss to your forehead and stroked your cheek before pulling the blanket higher up past your shoulders. After that, she quietly exits the room. AJ wishes that there was more she could do, but she knew she’s done the best she could, and so do you. The pain just made you so incredibly irritable. Every single time you inhaled or exhaled made you feel closer and closer to crying. Just wanting to burst into tears…but you knew all too well that it would just make your pain worse. So you swallowed those tears like your life depended on it— quite literally.

You tried shutting your eyes in hopes of drifting off to sleep, but it did not work and you were growing impatient. And angry. At whatever the hell it was. AJ returns after awhile, thinking that you’d be asleep but clearly, you weren’t. “I’m not asleep.” You huffed.

“How about I run you a bath, babe?”

“I dunno.” You mumbled.

“We’ll try, okay?”

You just let her. What could you do, say no? She’d just go ahead anyway. When she walked out of the ensuite bathroom, she glances at you before picking out a new set of clothes for you. You knew she was worried and you felt terrible about it, but you were also aware of the fact that you needed her to help you right now. If you were alone, you’d definitely just curl up in bed and do nothing. She helped you get out of bed, out of your clothes and into the bathtub. “Easy, easy.” AJ says, “Okay, sit— yeah. You okay?”

You nodded, letting out a little grunt when you strained yourself while trying to sit down. One of the few things that have helped was soaking in warm water. And you wish you could’ve been in here all day, but that’s just…not possible. The sun had just completely set, leaving you and AJ in darkness for a brief moment before she turned the lights on. “Would you want them off instead?”

“It’s fine.”

She sits down on the floor by the tub to keep you company. “Go eat dinner.”

“I will, in a minute.” She assured, “Does the water help?”

“A lot.” You admit, “The relief won’t last long though.” AJ held onto your hand, stroking her thumb over your knuckles as you leaned back and shut your eyes. This tiny gesture gave you a bit more comfort, which you appreciated and gave her a smile in response. “Do you maybe want to eat dinner, here?”

You shook your head, telling her that you’ve got no appetite. “Maybe later.”

“Alright.” She stroked your hair, “I’ll go get you some water, okay? You’ve got to stay hydrated, love.”

“Okay.” You murmured.

She leaves, and comes back with a plastic cup filled with water, and a straw dipped in the cup. “Here you go, honey.” She holds the straw to your lips and you took a tentative sip. “Thanks, honey- please go have your dinner. Just leave the cup on the stool. I’ll just be right here.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Go.”

“Okay, but if you need anything- call for me.”

You watch her leave, then you hear sounds from further away, in the kitchen. She was having her dinner. You dozed off for the duration of her dinner, and woke up when she walked back in. “Looks like you got some rest.”

“Luckily I didn’t fall back or I would’ve drowned.”

“Tsk.” AJ chuckles, “Come on, let’s get you outta there.”

You let out a groan, having to sit up straight and then stand up. “Okay, alright- you good?” She squints, grabbing your towel off the sink countertop. “Mm.” You mumbled incoherently but nodded. “Okay.” AJ rubs your towel-covered back just ever so gently. She guides you back into the room and onto bed. After helping you get changed, she freezes in her tracks in front of you. “I’d feel better if we get you to eat a little bit while you’re feeling some relief right now.”

“I’ll try.” You stood up on your own, sending her into a moment of panic, “I wanna— go outside.”

“I figured.” She says, walking beside you. Once you two got to the dining room, she pulls a chair out for you and you sat down in it while she got you a bowl of mac and cheese.

————

She sat with you while you ate, checking her phone for any missed texts or calls. Then she went around the apartment to tidy it up some. AJ then somehow persuaded you to go to bed, and you managed to fall asleep. Also, she’s thought of putting a cushion under your back so the surface you were lying on was way softer. Maybe that was what helped, because you barely felt the pain that way. “Mm, no.” You mumbled half asleep, “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, lovebug. I’m right here.” She shushed, “Sleep now, okay?” At first, she was sitting beside you on her side of the bed, but then she decided to lay down and go to bed early too. Letting go of your hand gently, she turned to be on her side so she could watch you sleep. Peacefully.

Slowly, she succumbed to sleep as well and was only awoken by you a few hours later. You were pressed up against her, an arm wrapped around her as well. AJ could feel that you were cold, and that your face was pressed up against her back. AJ was stuck— she didn’t know whether to stay put or move. You couldn’t possibly be comfortable like that, baby. She thought.

Rolling over slowly, you detaches from you. Your arm falls onto the mattress as she feels your forehead. Shit. Were you suddenly having a fever?

You whined in your sleep at the loss of contact. So AJ hurries up to get closer to you again, holding you in her arms— face to face with you. She anxiously feels your forehead again, “Maybe my hand’s just cold?” She mouths to herself. She could go grab the thermometer but if she tried to get away from you again, you would definitely wake up. She knew that she couldn’t know for certain until you were fully awake so she gave in and just dozed off again.

The sleep was very broken up. Because an hour later you were awake. “What’s wrong?” She looked at you, you’d just stepped out of the bathroom.

“I don’t— uh, it kinda stings when I go to the bathroom.”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

You nodded sadly, “I’m sorry.”

You’re sorry? She felt like shit right now for not noticing that you hadn’t been drinking enough water for the past few days — which probably was what lead to this. “I’m gonna take you to the doctor.”

“No. No, no, no, no,” You declined, profusely, “I’ve had enough of antibiotics.”

“Okay, so what do you need then?”

She couldn’t lie, she was a little bit worried about the infection spreading if it was indeed a UTI, but you knew your body best. And it wasn’t your first time having this happen— it also certainly won’t be the last.

You chugged a glass of cranberry juice then crawled back into bed to sleep. “I’m giving you two days, alright? If you don’t feel better and if the fever and pain gets worse, you gotta see a doctor.” AJ tried to reason with you.

“Okay.” You mumbled, “Cuddles, please?”

She happily obliged but was cautious since you were still in pain, “I’m sorry you’re in pain right now, my love.”

“I know. It sucks.” You muttered, “I just want it to go away. I didn’t meant to not drink enough water or however the fuck this happened.”

“Just let me know whatever you need and I’ll give it to you, okay? Just wake me up and I’ll help you, please. If you can’t get up, please let me help you. I don’t want and you doubled over and struggling on your own.” AJ says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You simply gave her a nod and laid your head in her chest, making yourself comfortable.

After being sick for a few years, and with AJ being with you through it all since the very beginning, she’s had to learnt a lot in a short period of time. About the conditions, about your habits, how they’ve changed, how to help you manage symptoms, what medications helped and which ones didn’t, the side effects. Everything that came with being chronically ill and dealing with chronic pain. AJ had to learn, and remember them. It was tough as shit and she didn’t have to help you with any of it, but she never once complained. She’s never made you feel bad for needing her help. You may have felt bad on your own, but she has never made you feel bad and just showered you with love and care. Because she was the sweetest person you’ve ever met in your life and she just understood. No one chooses to be sick, but being the usually healthier person meant that she was able to do more than you could. You’ve had to learn to be vulnerable and honest with her and yourself if you wanted to feel better sooner. It was an equally painful experience to go through over time. But you were very glad to be past that stage…so when off nights happen, that’s all they were. You don’t let them linger for longer than needed and affect your mood too much— you let it run its course and did what you knew that could help.

AJ looked at you, heart swelling with pride as much as it ached a little bit, ‘You are so strong, my girl.’

[iwanthermidnightz]

*excerpts below — but I highly recommend reading the full article in link above*

Hit Me Hard and Soft dunks us headfirst back into that universe, from the deepest wallows of depression to the exhaustion that comes with the world speculating about her every move. There are no arachnids where they shouldn’t be, but getting in touch with her darker side has Eilish finally feeling like herself again. “I feel like this album is me,” she says. “It’s not a character. It feels like the When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? version of me. It feels like my youth and who I was as a kid.”

Although 2019 felt like a whirlwind of madness at the time, she has found herself missing it. “It was the best time of my life,” she says. “This whole process has felt like I’m coming back to the girl that I was. I’ve been grieving her. I’ve been looking for her in everything, and it’s almost like she got drowned by the world and the media. I don’t remember when she went away.”

The title Hit Me Hard and Soft derives from a conversation she had with Finneas, when she mistakenly thought the name of a synth in Logic Pro was called Hit Me Hard and Soft. “I thought it was such a perfect encapsulation of what this album does,” she explains. “It’s an impossible request: You can’t be hit hard and soft. You can’t do anything hard and soft at the same time. I’m a pretty extremist person, and I really like when things are really intense physically, but I also love when things are very tender and sweet. I want two things at once. So I thought that was a really good way to describe me, and I love that it’s not possible.”

Eilish and Finneas call Hit Me Hard and Soft “an album-ass album.” It’s not a concept record, but it is a self-consciously cohesive set of songs, inspired by auteurist works from the past 15 years or so, like Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die, Tyler, the Creator’s Goblin, Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart, and Vince Staples’ Big Fish Theory.

“Lunch,” a complete 180 in both sound and subject content. It’s a sexy, bass-heavy banger where Eilish is crushing on a girl so hard she likens sex with her to devouring a meal. Finneas remembers playing this moment for Interscope and witnessing the team shift in their seats. “What’s funny about starting the album with [the opener] is that it is a total false promise,” he says. “If you’re remembering ‘What Was I Made For?’ and then you hear [it], you go, ‘Oh, OK. I understand this world.’ Then the drums come in [on “Lunch”], and it really is the kill-the-main-character-type beat. It’s like Drew Barrymore being in the first five minutes of Scream and then they kill her. You’re like, ‘They can’t kill Drew. Oh, my God, they killed Drew!’”

Eilish and I spend a lot of time talking about the new era she is about to kick off, and how she’ll promote Hit Me Hard and Soft while prioritizing her mental health, privacy, and well-being. With all of that in mind, I wonder if she’s ready for journalists to pepper her with questions about the album’s subject matter, particularly the sexual nature of “Lunch.” “That song was actually part of what helped me become who I am, to be real,” Eilish says. “I wrote some of it before even doing anything with a girl, and then wrote the rest after. I’ve been in love with girls for my whole life, but I just didn’t understand — until, last year, I realized I wanted my face in a vagina. I was never planning on talking about my sexuality ever, in a million years. It’s really frustrating to me that it came up.”

Eilish is referring to her interview with Variety last fall, in which she mentioned she was attracted to women. The quote — “I’m attracted to them for real” — became a national headline. The following month, Eilish attended Variety’s Hitmakers event in L.A. While on the red carpet, she was asked if she intentionally came out in the story. “No, I didn’t,” she told them. “But I kind of thought, ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’” Eilish then posted about it on Instagram, with a caption that read, “Thanks Variety for my award and for also outing me on a red carpet at 11 a.m. instead of talking about anything else that matters. I like boys and girls leave me alone about it please literally who cares.”

Looking back, Eilish admits she overreacted with the Instagram post. “Who fucking cares?” she says. “The whole world suddenly decided who I was, and I didn’t get to say anything or control any of it. Nobody should be pressured into being one thing or the other, and I think that there’s a lot of wanting labels all over the place. Dude, I’ve known people that don’t know their sexuality, or feel comfortable with it, until they’re in their forties, fifties, sixties. It takes a while to find yourself, and I think it’s really unfair, the way that the internet bullies you into talking about who you are and what you are.”

As for that red-carpet quote that made all the headlines, Eilish says she tried to think of a response that would be entertaining for her fans and the internet. “I went into Billie Eilish interview mode, [like], ‘Oh, I don’t care. Yeah, I’ll say whatever. Wasn’t it obvious?’” she says. “And then afterwards I was like, ‘Wait. It wasn’t obvious to me.’”

Thinking about it now, she draws a bigger lesson from that moment. “I know everybody’s been thinking this about me for years and years, but I’m only figuring out myself now,” she says. “And honestly, what I said was funny, because I really was just saying what they’ve all been saying.” She adds that she liked the journalist she was talking to and didn’t want to be rude. But she still felt exploited. “Bro, I have asthma out here,” she says. “I fucking can’t take a breath.”

If Eilish had the opportunity to do it over again on the red carpet, she says, she wouldn’t have answered the question. But she acknowledges it could have been worse. “I’m lucky enough to be in a time when I’m able to say something like that and things go OK for me,” she says. “And that’s not how a lot of people’s experience is.”

Eilish has officially decided to make some changes to the way she presents herself to the world. “This album, to me, feels like a way to restart, in terms of my sharing,” she says. So let’s take a second to reintroduce Billie Eilish, the home-schooled bohemian who captured our attention as a teenager. She’s 22 now, yet she’s more self-aware than people twice her age. She would like some space to grow, to figure out exactly who she is — no label required. She is not the poster child for anything. And she is not, she’d like to note, a TED Talk speaker. So where does that leave us? Eilish sums things up with four simple words that point to her desire for normalcy and acceptance.

“I’m just a girl.”