#my mother is still baffled by how I ended up with any kind of musical talent

[ineloquent-tumbling]

One amusing side effect of getting back on Facebook and posting a couple videos of me playing music is that apparently my mom is now getting a lot of our relatives messaging her about how they had no idea that I could sing. 😂😂😂

Like, yeah. I spent the first couple decades of my life dead convinced I was a terrible singer so I didn’t do it around most people. Then I was not on social media (as far as they knew) while I was developing confidence in my voice. So, yeah.

Surprise, fuckers!

[onyxbird]

...Just rediscovered this WIP in my files, and I don't foresee it getting fleshed out anytime soon, but I do love the ridiculous scenes I've got, so I might as well release them into the wild. 😉

A Tree Grew on Yavin

Summary: Poe's friends in the Resistance are baffled/skeptical when he describes the animate "Force tree" he grew up with on Yavin IV, but they soon get to see for themselves when Groot, his partner Rocket, and their team of "morons" make contact.

“You know, Poe,” said Rey, as they rehashed the attack run, “that almost sounds like the Force.”

“Wait, is that how the Force works?” said Finn. “Because I've gotten some conflicting reports on that.”

“Nah. I don't have the Force, Rey. I grew up with this tree… It's kind of complicated to explain. But if I had it, I think I'd know.”

“Of course you have the Force, Poe.” Leia entered from the hall. “We all do. It's life's music. The song we make.”

Poe didn't argue, but he shrugged. Fine. Terminology. He wasn't Force-sensitive.

It wasn't until days later, during a lull from the work of settling the remnants of the Resistance in on Ajan Kloss, that the subject came up again.

“We want to know more about that tree,” said Rey, apropos of nothing.

Poe stared blankly at her, and then at the jungle surrounding their new base.

“Which one? And why would I know any more about it than you do? I've never been to Ajan Kloss before, either.”

“Not these trees,” said Finn. “On the Falcon, you said you grew up with a tree, and that's why you're confident you're not Force-sensitive. Why? Rey's been studying the Jedi texts and we asked around a bit, but no one has ever heard of tests for Force-sensitivity involving trees.”

Poe raised an eyebrow. “You've been—who would you even ask about that? Besides the General, of course. She would have been able to tell you.” He frowned. “You also could have just asked me to begin with, you know.”

Rey and Finn eyed him with identical expressions of skepticism.

“You mean, in the cumulative 5 spare seconds since we got here that you haven't been busy setting up landing fields—”

“Building hangars.”

“Organizing patrols.”

“Flying patrols.”

“Eating.”

“Or sleeping?”

“...OK, fair. It's been a little hectic.”

Rey smirked in victory. “So, the tree?”

Poe sighed and settled in for a story. “I warned you it's complicated to explain.”

Both listeners nodded.

“All right, then. So my mother, Shara Bey, flew for the Rebellion—both my parents fought in the Rebellion, but Mom was the pilot.”

A mixed group of mechanics and pilots passing by their table chuckled affectionately. “Everyone knows, Dameron!”

“Er, I didn't, actually,” said Rey.

“Yeah, same,” said Finn.

“Thank you!” He mock-glared at the passing group. “You may think you know all of my stories, especially after hanging around with L'ulo too much, but this context is actually relevant.”

“Someone has to heckle you with the rest of Black Squadron still out on mission!” teased a tech.

“Your mother was a Rebellion pilot, and?” prompted Rey.

“And right at the end of the war, after the second Death Star blew up, when the dregs of the Empire were still coming down, she got pulled onto an undercover mission that Luke Skywalker was running. He needed to get something out of an Imperial research lab. Apparently, the Jedi temple in the Old Republic was built around this massive Force-sensitive tree. The Empire destroyed it, but they kept a few live pieces. For research, I guess.”

Rey's forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “The Jedi texts on Ahch-To were in a tree. I wonder if it was the same type.”

Poe blinked. “Uhhh… maybe? …You couldn't put books in our Force Tree, but I don't know. Can't rule it out, really.”

Rey shook her head. “Sorry! I'm side-tracking your story. Go on.”

Poe smiled. “So when they got there and tricked their way into the lab, they found these two little Force trees. Skywalker was only expecting to there to be one. At the time, my parents were just about to muster out and go settle down somewhere, so Skywalker gave them second one to take with them and plant. He said he wanted it to be safe somewhere.

“Point is, according to Skywalker, that tree just radiates Force energy and is obviously not an ordinary tree. So it seems highly unlikely that I would never have sensed that growing up if I were Force-sensitive.”

Finn looked vaguely let down. “So… it's this amazingly cool thing, but without the Force—or, without being sensitive to the Force—it's just like a regular tree?” He frowned. “You don't think Skywalker was just pulling your mother's leg, do you? Rey said he's kinda sarcastic…”

“Well, not just like a regular tree. I mean, regular trees don't walk around. Or talk.”

“What?!”

“I said, regular trees don't—”

Finn waved for him to stop. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Got that. Completely true. You're saying this Force tree does walk and talk? Like a person?”

“Yeah. His name's Groot.” He glanced around at the jungle again, with more satisfaction this time. “He would like it here.”

...

“Commander Dameron! Commander Dameron!”

Poe stifled a groan and rose from his crouch under the X-wing he was working on. “Yes, Threepio?”

“We have just received a communication for you, sir!”

Poe frowned as he ran through the mental list of who might be calling him. Black Squadron was all here. Finn and Rey were here (in fact, Rey was heading towards them now, apparently on her way back from another obstacle course run). If it were his father, C3PO would have led with that. Any of his old navy contacts who hadn't died on Hosnian Prime had mostly found their way to the Resistance by now…

“OK, who is it?”

“He called himself 'Rocket,' sir. He refused to be any more specific and insisted you would know who he was. If fact, he was quite—”

“Rude?” said Poe.

“Indeed!”

“Yeah, I know who he is. Thanks, Threepio. It's not personal. He's rude to everyone.”

Poe replaced the open panel and grabbed his jacket.

“Wait…” He stopped in his tracks. “What codes did he use to call us?”

“I believe it is one of the communication codes we use with our suppliers, sir! I was intending to ask you with whom you had shared it.”

Poe shook his head and sighed. “He didn't get it from me, pal. But Rocket turns up all kinds of things he's not supposed to have. Might be time to start cycling in some new codes.”

He fell into step beside Rey as they both headed for the base's central complex. “Done already?” she asked curiously. “I figured that sort of repair would take all afternoon.”

“It will, but apparently not today. Threepio said a communication came through for me.”

The curious stares started as soon as they stepped through the door. Rey wasn't that much of a curiosity anymore, and Poe certainly wasn't, which meant Rocket must be in fine form today. Rey gave him a sidelong glance—she'd clearly noticed, too.

“Poe!” Finn waved from the command room and jogged towards them, flashing Rey a quick smile before getting back to the business at hand. “There's someone on the line for you, named—”

“Rocket. Yeah, Threepio told me. That's why I'm up here.” He continued his brisk stride towards the command room, running a hand restlessly through his hair. “Who did he insult besides Threepio?”

“What?”

“What did Rocket say? Threepio was in a huff; everyone's giving me weird looks, and I know Rocket—civility is not his strong suit.”

Finn hesitated. “I'm not sure he insulted anyone exactly. He's just… kind of… glowering at everyone.”

Finn wasn't wrong about the glowering. The holo showed Rocket's diminutive arms folded belligerently over his chest, his pointed face twisted into a familiar sullen scowl, and the tip of his bushy, ringed tail swishing impatiently over the ground.

Of course, most of that was just Rocket's default appearance. The gigantic blaster over his shoulder, almost as large as his entire body, was new since Poe had last seen him, however.

“Rocket! Good to see you! You still working with Groot?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn and Rey straighten sharply, suddenly laser-focused on the conversation.

Behind Rocket, a much taller being leaned into the shot. The long wooden face split into a broad smile as he boomed out a cheerful “I am Groot!”

Force, it was good to see him again. Poe grinned up at the hologram that now towered over him to capture both of the beings on the other end.

“Beep! Bee-weeoooo!” BB-8 piped up cheerfully from by Poe's feet.

“I am Groot,” agreed Groot.

“Yeah, yeah,” groused Rocket. “Everyone's happy to see everyone. Great. Now that we've established that, can we get back to business?”

“What are you calling about? And how did you get this access code?”

Rocket loftily waved off the latter question. “Oh, you know. Sometimes you just stumble across these sorts of things.”

“Actually, no, I think there are quite a few people working to make sure you don't just 'stumble across' that code.”

“Well, maybe not just lying around, but once you're already in the right computer system…”

Poe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Threepio wasn't going to be thrilled, but knowing Rocket, he could guess the rest. Apparently at least one of the Resistance's suppliers wasn't Raccoon-proofed. Probably not a huge security risk—just Rocket being dangerously skilled and a compulsive thief, as usual.

“OK. I'm assuming you weren't just calling to make sure it works.”

“No. Quill came across an interesting piece of merchandise that we thought you or your… friends” (Rocket somehow made it sound derogatory.) “might be interested in.”

Poe glanced around the command center, wondering if General Organa was around by any stroke of luck. He blinked. Every one of the unusually large number of people currently in the room was watching the conversation play out in more-or-less open fascination. You could have heard a pin drop.

He glanced back at Rocket, as his full sentence sank in. “Who's Quill?”

Rocket frowned at him, one ear cocking quizzically. Then his expression cleared. “Riiight. You haven't met the morons yet.” He turned towards someone out of sight and shouted “Quill! Poe's on the line! Where's the thing?”

“I told you it's in the aft compartment.” A human man entered the hologram. He glanced towards Poe and frowned. "It's—Wait, that's Poe?” He peered at him for a second. “Weird. I expected you to be a tree."

Rocket stared at him. "Why would he be a tree, you moron?!"

"You said Groot knew him when they were kids! I made an assumption! A wrong assumption, clearly!"

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think would happen if one of the Cullens realized they might also be "in love" with Bella during Twilight along side Ed. Mates be damned (not like their marriages are gonna last anyway), and everyone's on the table (just 1 love rival, not at the same time buuuuut could you imagine the chaos? *cough*). The usual Bella eaten/killed by Eddy boi is def on the table obvie, but like do you think there's a chance he might concede to one of his family (or just any other alternatives)? -Sw

Oh boy.

Why I Don’t Think This Is a Possibility

That said, I have to caveat that I don’t think this is a very likely path (sorry, I cannot resist).

It’s true I don’t think any of the Cullen relationships will last in the long term, but I also don’t think they’re inclined to cheat on one another or fall apart at a moment’s notice. They’ve made it this long, several decades, but more, none of them realizes anything is lacking from their respective relationship. 

Carlisle and Esme are very devoted to one another and don’t realize they have fundamentally conflicting values. Jasper and Alice think they fulfil each other’s needs and don’t realize that they share nothing in common. Rosalie and Emmett’s is the healthiest relationship in the house but don’t see their major issues (Emmett doesn’t really support or understand Rosalie and Rosalie loves Emmett mostly for his love of her).

My point being, none of them are going to realize it’s not working out anytime soon. They’re going to need a catalyst, and per the end of Twilight, one is coming. Either a confrontation with the Volturi occurs, Renesmee decides to leave, the Cullen lifestyle changes, or things with Bella go awry. It can be any number of things, and it will happen given time, but at the start of Twilight we haven’t hit that point yet.

There’s also the fact that of the Cullens, only Edward would do this nonsense, and even for him it takes Bella’s delicious blood to grab his attention. When she was an ordinary human, he was not interested in the slightest, not even in her gift.

Each of the Cullens (Sans Alice and Esme) is completely baffled by Edward’s emotional whiplash and attachment to this human girl he doesn’t even know. Bella only becomes a vague concept to them when she enters as a serious fixture in Edward’s life, but even then, they really don’t know what to think.

No one in the family will do what Edward did in Twilight. Look at this girl they don’t even know and say “Ah, yes, I’m in love.” 

Now, that out of the way, let’s play ball.

Alice

This actually will work out shockingly well if only because I suspect Alice will come up with the pragmatic solution of “sharing”.

First, Alice is by far the closest Cullen member to Edward. He holds her in high esteem, feels a strong sense of kinship with her, actually confides in her, and sees her as a very close friend. Edward looks up to Carlisle and adores Esme, but it’s not the same.

If Alice sees herself as getting together with Bella I don’t think she’d see this as mutually exclusive to Edward having Bella. Alice cares deeply for Edward’s happiness, far more than she does Bella’s general existence, and I think the idea of entering a joint marriage with Edward and Bella would be very appealing to her.

She’d have to ease Edward into it, of course, as he’d balk at the very idea of it, but I think he’d see it as a strengthening of his and Alice’s relationship as well as having the wonderful Bella. Better yet, Alice can be physical with Bella while Edward can go compose music about their love.

As it is this... This is kind of what happens in canon.

Alice tells Edward that not only is he in love with Bella, but that Bella is going to be her best friend, so he better not muck it up. She has to ease him into the idea of being in love with Bella throughout the first part of Twilight. Then, when the relationship is solidified, Alice is right there introducing herself as Bella’s new BFF. Bella’s friendship with Alice throughout the series is extremely homoerotic and I imagine it remains so after Breaking Dawn.

Edward is very pleased that Bella counts Alice as her best friend, Alice being far and away his favorite sibling and the one he approves of Bella spending time with (generally, when she’s not foiling his schemes). 

I don’t think Alice and Bella will ever have sex, per se, but I imagine they remain quite physical with each other and Edward looks on with approval thinking to himself that this is how all female friendships should be.

And if Jasper has the nagging suspicion his wife is cheating on him then he’s not functioning quite well enough to put it into words just yet.

Carlisle

Edward would lose his mind.

First, Edward is very into Carlisle, and for all he insists his feelings are filial they sound remarkably romantic. I’d drop a quote, but it’s pretty much every time Edward thinks of Carlisle in Midnight Sun. More than that, Carlisle is the man Edward aspires to be, someone he sees as profoundly more good than he could ever hope to be.

Edward projects a very similar personality onto Bella herself.

So, I imagine if Carlisle sits Edward down and says, “Actually, Edward, I have fallen in love with this Bella” Edward feels very conflicting things all at once.

On the one hand, this means Esme/Carlisle is collapsing. Edward personally brought those two together and adores the idea of their relationship. Their relationship is what he hopes his and Bella’s will look like and is to him the married ideal of a perfect Mother and a perfect Father.

Carlisle/Esme alone falling apart would give him a complete existential crisis. That’s not allowed to happen. 

And then that Carlisle wants Bella Swan for himself?! Edward would be faced with the immediate,horrifying, thought that for all Carlisle is a vampire he would be the perfect man for saint like Bella. Carlisle and Bella deserve one another, would be perfect together, and Edward should not begrudge them that.

On the other hand, Edward himself is in love with Bella, and while he thought he could nobly leave her, now he has to nobly stand to the side and watch as Carlsile and her marry. It’d be a very romantic and tragic thing to do, but there’s leaving Bella to her human life, and then watching her up front for the rest of eternity while bitterly hiding his feelings.

More, Carlisle will turn her. If Bella is his true love, then there’s no question of that. Edward’s seen where this goes with Emmett. He will destroy Bella Swan to be with her forever, and Edward will have to live with the shell of Bella Swan staring back at him, fucking his father, forever.

I imagine Edward desperately pretends to concede to Carlisle, to be happy for the pair of them, but as things progress and Bella’s permanent position in the family looks more and more likely, he loses his mind. He’ll snap and there is no telling what he might do.

My money’s on him mercy killing Bella while she’s still human behind Carlisle’s back. He’s sobbing while he does it, but he just can’t let Bella be tarnished by vampirism, and now he will carry this tragic, terrible, secret for the rest of time.

Whether Carlisle was going to turn her or not is up to debate. Given he turned none after Emmett, I think he learned his lesson from Rosalie and would be more than willing to let Bella go, even if he loves her, should it mean he would not force something she does not want and does not understand upon her.

That said, I think he’d never tell Edward his feelings for Bella, as that would ruin Edward’s fledgling relationship with the girl. This is Edward’s first brush with love and seems to be the only romantic love he’ll ever have. Edward has been so miserable for so long that Carlisle would easily give up his own happiness for Edward.

So, more likely, Twilight would happen anyway and Carlisle would spend the entire time being utterly miserable and pretending he’s perfectly fine. LOOK HOW HAPPY HE IS, ESME.

Emmett

Edward tattles to Rosalie immediately.

He loves Emmett, but he knows Emmett can’t possibly be serious about this, and more, fundamentally doesn’t understand how wonderful and amazing Bella is. He wants to turn her into a vampire, clearly, Emmett doesn’t know what’s best for the girl.

More, a man who would so easily break his marriage vows (even to Rosalie), does not deserve Bella Swan.

Edward watches Rosalie and Emmett’s marriage utterly disintegrate with a juice box filled with mountain lion blood and swoops in on Bella while Emmett is thoroughly distracted. Edward then gaslights Bella into believing Emmett is dangerous and despises her, making Emmett the new and improved Jasper.

Esme

Esme would never tell Edward or likely even realize her feelings for Bella herself. If she did though, she would give up the possibility of a future with Bella Swan in a heartbeat for Edward’s happiness, which means everything to her.

Esme will have no regrets, won’t even smile sadly at Bella, because she has Carlsile as her consolation prize and she gets to see the joy in both Bell and Edward’s faces which is far more important than having Bella to herself.

Esme would live vicariously through Bella and Edward’s relationship as well as the very existence of Renesmee.

Like Alice, this is one of those things that’s pretty much canon. I won’t say anything for Esme’s feelings, it’s more that Esme ships Bella with Edward (and mostly because Edward himself comes to obsess over her), but she does seem to vicariously get her joy through their nuclear family within the Cullen family.

Esme is a very strange person.

Jasper

Edward would attempt to murder Jasper or at least severely injure him. Jasper would be the ultimate threat to Bella, not even a man unworthy of her but not a man at all, and exactly what Edward needs to protect Bella against.

Alice tries to stop the fight, to no avail, and Edward will ultimately lose (despite all his confidence). I imagine Jasper doesn’t kill him, but tears apart his limbs, and uses Edward’s lack of mobility to kidnap and then turn Bella.

Bella has no idea what’s happening and the next thing she knows she’s a vampire and Jasper is telling her they have to leave the area (as he must now leave the coven).

Edward tries to track them down for the rest of eternity. He will get vengeance upon Jasper and save Bella this terrible demonic existence forced upon her. Of course, he ends up lost in Rio.

Rosalie

Edward would tell her that her feelings cannot possibly be real. Bella is a woman. More, Rosalie is unworthy of Bella in every possible regard, even more so than Edward himself.

Basically, Edward would lay into Rosalie in a way that he never has before with all of his venom. He will do everything he can to sabotage Bella’s opinion of Rosalie before Rosalie can even get a word in edgewise. He is successful at it due to Bella’s perilously low self esteem (much the reason he was successful with this endeavor in canon).

Rosalie and Edward get in a vicious fight and I imagine Rosalie eventually confronts Bella, making an opportunity to do so, and both warns her away from Edward, tells her everything, and offers to turn her despite Rosalie’s own mixed experiences.

Rosalie and Edward probably then fight and it quickly turns into something that’s very serious. If Edward wins, he murders Rosalie in the heat of the moment, and then leaves the coven in horror over what Carlisle must think of him now. If Rosalie wins... I don’t think she will, she cares for Edward far too much and would never truly be able to aim to kill or maim.

Edward disappears, drowning in his self hatred, and returns to find Bella Swan at some later date unable to resist the call of her scent. Depending where she is in her life, he likely murders her human husband if she has one and dvours her, as Alice prophesied so long ago.

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Deaf MC vs Devildom

.

A HUGE thanks to @jaywalk-on-me for reaching out to me about this subject. I really hope I have given this it some justice.

Also, to avoid some of the controversies inside the Deaf Culture: I will not be referencing cochlear implants.

And a note for my fellow hearing people, there is definetelly not much difference between us and deaf/hard of hearing people, in fact, after reading about it, I can hardly consider it a disability seeing it can actually allow them to percieve the world in a much different way from ours and would not have any problems in their life if only us, hearing peers, were cooperative and understanding. Everything we need to do is literally minor details and does not hinder our own lifes in the slightest, in fact, it can even help us too! An example is captioning, there is literally nothing to lose, and honestly, even I put captioning on movies of my mother lenguage because sometimes I just can't understand what is being said and captions really help me with that and enjoy whatever I am watching to the fullest! So let's be more understanding. We are all humans, and can all learn from each other's perspective.

And as always

Warning: Uncensored swearing lol, and reference to lesson 16

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Lucifer

Ah, yes, he knew about it, was in your files, nailed it, he learned your local sign lenguage, all good.

Except his expressions are so damn stiff.

He signs a 'Welcome to The Devildom' and I kid you not, you will not be able to tell if he is trying to be welcomingly polite (and failing miserably) or threatening you.

It was definetelly both

He gets better at it-

Perks if you like classic music though, because you will be able to give him a whole different way of enjoying it.

He won't force you to speak if you choose not to, but he sure will never stop being delighted to hear your voice if you do.

It still baffles him how observant you are, may start trusting you to find details he missed on certain things.

.

Mammon

He definetelly forgot everything he learned on sign lenguage the moment he stepped out of the tutoring Lucifer made him and all his brothers, except for Levi and Satan, go through.

Yes he will mistake around 5 signs per day on the first week of your arrival in the Devildom.

And he will often forget that you most likelly cannot hear him (if his voice frequency doesn't match your hearing that is) and go off blabbing without signing and then just go "oi why ya ignoring me" and he definetelly is this close 👌to being wacked with the closest thing at range.

Again, he gets better too.

In fact, once he warms up to you (and that's like, real fucking fast) he will make so much effort to get things right, and he always pays attention to have captions in movie nights even without you asking??

He tries lip reading once when you told him it's not easy and, I will let it to your imagination what on hell he managed to lip read.

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Leviathan

As mentioned above, he didn't need the tutoring. Why? Guess what, he already knew at least a few sign lenguages, all because of the many animes, games and shows he has watched portray it, even though the ammount of representation is small.(btw I recomend DARK, there is a deaf&mute character and oh boi she's awesome, it's on netflix)

So he definetelly had no problem communicating with you, in fact, he was almost relieved.

He doesn't need to speak verbally?? He basically would rather spoon his eyes out than talk on the phone so on drug levels texting instead is like heroin????

And oh lord you NEED to invite him to the music festivals on the human world catered towards deaf and hard of hearing people, be will LOVE it.

A little bit of downside though, some of his expression changes are very subtle, but as he spends more time with you, he will start incorporating character voices into expressions and body lenguage instead, and you bet he enjoys doing it.

He will definetelly make music just for you. You only hear high frequencies? Or maybe only low frequencies? Or just nothing at all but you enjoy the rythmic vibrations? He definetelly has spend an entire night making a full fucking album just for you.

.

Satan

Seriously, he knows so many sign lenguages it actually made his way of signing pretty unique!

Another fake ass who will give you gentlemany smiles at first. He may be a way lot more smoother than Lucifer but you bet his fake ass is not passing your vibe check, not with the way his eyes just feel a little bit not right.

Another one who gets better though.

It's kind of nice how he grows so used to signing while speaking that his hands often give off a sign or two even when he is speaking to hearing people.

He will definetelly roast quite a few half assed interpreters.

Also he may or may not have gotten a new obssession after you two watched a few silent movies together??

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Asmodeus

Oh boy this one needs to chill out a bit.

If you can't interpret signs when done too fast then good luck because his hands will literally be able to spell a full fucking paragraph in 20 seconds.

And oh how he explores your other senses.

Definetelly goes to you first to judge how he looks.

Also he is the best option to keep yourself informed?? I mean, it's also something he can relate with, it doesn't matter if someone killed somebody or just broke their nail, he needs to know about it.

He may be a bit disappointed if you don't speak but he gets over it quickly.

Will ruin many people's carreer if they so much as refuse to attent to you just because you're deaf. There's just nothing wrong with it??? Stop being so petty!

He is now your biggest distraction in mid class and you will definetelly end each day carrying at least 10 paper notes in which he will try to speak with you. They definetelly smell like whatever he smells like at the time. And are definetelly written in colored pen. With glitter. And there are hearts. And possibly a kiss mark-

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Beelzebub

Big boy definetelly has two types of sign lenguage he uses, and if literally depends if he is eating and what he is eating.

Normally he is just, normal lol. Since he is pretty much quite a bit of an amateur at it he will make use of speech filters a lot when he needs to remember certain signs.

If he's holding something big like a sandwich he will either just gulf it all in to have both hands free or try to make a simplified version with one hand. I'll admit the first scenario is quite amusing.

Yes some of the first questions he asks is how to spells certain foods.

And yes you bet you won't be able to know all of them because Devildom food is definetelly something.

Oh and get ready for a bit of chaos if anyone refuses your order because you're deaf.

Please tell him to flap his wings and proceed lay on him or hug him. The vibrations will be very much close to one of those massage chairs.

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Belphegor

Oh boy.

First off, he did NOT know about you being deaf because thanks Lucifer.

You guys definetelly spoke in a lot of exchanged notes under his attic door.

He keeps them all hidden somewhere but he will never admit it.

If you're willing to teach him at least how to say 'hi', 'good night' or things like that, he will appear to not be very interested but once the entire lesson 16 fiasco happens they're definetelly the only signs he knows about for some reason when he finally gets tutored.

Still texts you instead.

Even in the same room.

That's what you get from the avatar of sloth I guess-

He does sign a few remarks at you per example commenting on how the new hairstyle Asmo decided to make made his bangs look like a poop behind his back.

Also this:

(The picture above actually happened and was translated to english from my mother lenguage)

[squeeb100]

caution all ye who enter: centaurworld s2 negativity and spoilers up to “bunch o’ scrunch.” Seriously man I warned you 

i’m not done with season 2 but I’m just kind of absolutely BAFFLED by the steep drop in quality from season one. Lightning didn’t strike twice here. Events are just not very memorable and the characters are going through the motions of interacting, but there’s never a solid emotional resolution to anything (i just got through the backstory jumping thing and they almost hit on something with ‘hey you need people’s consent before you read their minds’ and the herd was like ‘horse that was rude’ and she was like ‘yeah sorry’ and they were like ‘it’s fine.’ like that’s the level of emotional depth we’re dealing with here). The jokes don’t land for me, which is fine because they didn’t land for me first season either - the interesting characters and wonderful music made up for that. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen this time.

The songs and writing both feel loose? If that makes sense? Like occasionally the characters will sing but it’s not really a song it’s just like a couple seconds of music happening and them singing words at each other. Back in September, I was listening to every song from season 1 on repeat; that’s how good they are. I can’t even remember what the season 2 songs are or sound like and don’t care for them. I keep waiting for them to click into “being a song” and they never do, they just end. They’ll just sing for a bit and then go back to having a conversation with surprisingly little emotional depth based on their character arcs in season one. Any time a conflict emerges they summarily address it and move on, OR there’s an opportunity for interesting character exploration which is completely missed.

WHAT’S HAPPENING with the writing. Not the plot, but the literal writing, the lines. The characters constantly just say things at each other. Some lines don’t make much sense at all? Like they didn’t get properly proofread? In episode one: “of course we’ll make it, Horsatia, we didn’t come all the way here from the Chatterly-on-Whist Beansz, or my name isn’t Viscount Horsatio Wighair Beansz.” I think they meant: “we didn’t come all the way here from our home just to be denied entrance to the party, I swear to you.” What they said: “we didn’t come all the way here from our home, I swear to you.” There was another line kind of like that in episode 5, but I’ve forgotten what it was. There are things that strike me as lazy writing, like the characters saying their motivations out loud (which I know is necessary sometimes in screenwriting, but there really are moments where it’s just like yeah dude i coulda picked that up from subtext and having you SAY it is irritating), but there are things that straight-up don’t make sense! There’s also a lack of continuity with the first season, characterization-wise (I thought Wammawink had grown past the obsessive mothering a bit, I thought Ched had grown past hating Horse, I thought Horse had overcome some of her insecurity) and just...in general. The tail is just gone -- not that I particularly cared for him, but it feels like the writers just FORGOT. He got pushed out of the picture at the end of season 1 because other things were happening. Here it feels like they didn’t wanna deal with maintaining that as a Thing. What they do love maintaining is Comfortable Doug, who I loved so much in the first season because he was surprising. He’s no longer surprising here, and he talks so much that his speaking pattern loses the absurd humor from before and I’m left irritated. 

The plots of the episodes have been...not that interesting? And it’s just got this wild, frenetic energy, not necessarily in the balanced way S1 had. Too much happens too fast and nothing feels satisfying. Idk. I know there’s some interesting stuff coming up, but I really am just SO confused that the same people made season 2 as made season 1. 

The animation is still lovely! Which is kind of wildly at odds with the writing and music. I wonder what causes stuff like this to happen. Maybe some of the pressure was off since they made a good first impression? But season 2 HAD to be in production before season 1 came out. I really don’t know. Anyway.

I stand by the fact that season 1 is really genuinely good work and people should watch it. Season 2 is not as good. probably could have just said that,

[thebadboyfanclub]

Just Like You (Carlisle x Reader)

I haven’t written for Carlisle in such a long time, I am so excited for this concept, also if you wanna get in the vibe I wrote this while listening just the two of us by Grover Washington Jr. Also this is for my girl @little-diable​. Enjoy!

Teaching was something (y/n) wanted to do since she was a little girl, at the time of course she was not aware of the responsibility however she loved the idea of what a teacher was, a kind and clever individual that spend their time trying to educate and help the younger ones. 

Certainly teaching in history in high school was a whole different roster though she never complained, she had this charismatic way of commanding the crowd and luring them in to listen to her and pay attention to what she was hear to do, teach. She loved her work so much she neglected herself and scoffed at her body’s needs, that as anyone can presume did not end well, by not ending well meaning she passed out from dehydration in the middle of the class. 

“Miss (y/l/n), can you hear me?”

She had slowly started to open her eyes when she was met with one of the what anyone would assume was an angel, how else could you justify the porcelain white poreless skin, the blonde hair and those enchanting eyes. 

“What happened?”

“I’m afraid you fainted, dehydration was the cause”

“Dehydration?”

“It’s in our nature to need water miss (y/l/n), you haven’t been really kind to your body”

She felt like such an idiot, she was laying there in front of the most handsome man because she forgot to drink water. Perfect introduction, just what she needed

“Well at least I finally got to meet the infamous history teacher”

“Infamous?”

“Of course, everyone has been talking about the young, beautiful and smart history teacher. My son Emmett told me you are the only teacher that made history interesting”

“Your son is Emmett? What type of Botox do you do?”

As he laughed she felt her heart skip, how could someone’s laugh be so melodic? She never cared for men, from her point of view most of them had no substance and seemed completely incompetent without having anything to add in her life. Still here she was, swooning over a mans laugh

“I had adopted him, also you will be surprised what a healthy lifestyle can do. Let’s start by making sure you drink your water, we can’t risk your gorgeous facial bone structure to be overshadowed by dry skin now can we?”

-

Carlisle had asked her on a date a few days after she had left the hospital, he had used the excuse of coming to school to ask for his adopted kids and walked in her break to purpose dinner.

It was the first time (y/n) felt comfortable with a man, he was everything she wanted in a man, kind, gracious, smart, self made and also left her alone when she needed some quiet me time, she felt like no one was leading the relationship it just flowed. They actually hadn’t even talked about “being official”, they were just together, enjoying each other and being at each other’s life effortlessly.

“Tell me about your family, you rarely speak about them”

The shock of finding out his... nature was gigantic, it almost costed the entire relationship, she was blindsided and baffled by the new concept of a mythical creature being a factual thing and also the man she had feelings for. When she finally got to understand and respect it she got in contact with him, he was more than delighted to hear from her, he didn’t even care she had almost disappeared for so long.

Now she laid next to him, her head on his cold chest as the sheets covered her naked body, their legs intertwined while his one hand went touched her hair, carefully to not cause any discomfort.

“My mother unfortunately passed away while giving birth to me, from what I was told my father changed after that incident, the gain of a child was not enough to make up for the loss of a spouse”

“I bet she was beautiful, just like you”

His chest slightly vibrated as he let out a soft cackle. He adored her soft side that rarely made an appearance and it was only when they were intimate and alone, it was a reminder that he didn’t really know her unless she allowed him to.

“He was a pastor, however I don’t believe the world of the lord is to kill the supposed minorities in His name”

“Another reason why I don’t believe in God”

“He called it getting rid of evil and sin, for most of them he had little to no proof of being witches or werewolves or vampires, it was usually the outcasts that happened to aggravate the wrong people”

She could feel that he wasn’t really fond of those memories, she felt guilty of bring up his past, even though she blamed it at him being an alive Wikipedia. Her favorite time with him was when they would lounge like this, flesh touching flesh and he would talk about all his travels and historical events, this to a history teacher was the equivalent to a kid that went to Disneyland.

She lifted her head and now allowed her chin to rest on his chest, her eyes catching his, a soft and tired smile played on her soft pink lips, he knew she was tired and sleepy, she always was after and yet she would never admit it, she claimed the stories are the icing on the cake.

“Do you think the corsets would look good on me?”

“I think everything looks good on you, let alone a corset. A nice little tuck that would make that lovely cleavage of yours the star of the night.”

It was her turn to giggle at his cheeky commenting on her breasts. He took it as an opportunity to flip over and lay on top of her, a little squeak that was followed by a laugh was heard in the dimly lit room, it was just enough for her to admire that gorgeous face of his. She reached with her palm to touch his cheek, giving him a gentle little caress 

“I think you would love the 20s”

“You mean before during or after the market crash and the Jim crow laws?”

“I meant seen you dance to jazz music in my arms”

“I suppose that could occur as well”

That’s when he leaned in to place a kiss on her lips he so much adored. He had hoped to find his mate for so long, now here she was, standing proudly and showing him what love really means. Acceptance, she accepted his kind and he accepted her independent and introverted nature, no one tried nor needed to change anything to the other, they accepted and respected each other to a sacred level.

“You are an amazing woman”

“So I’ve been told”

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell��s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 1 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 2 now up.

Rhys hadn’t seen Feyre in over ten years. It was strange for him to think about, because they had always been so close. They had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends as children. As they got older, Rhys had flown into fits of jealous rage when Feyre suddenly had a hundred other friends and he was left behind. Then there was that one night, when they were thirteen and camping out in the Archerons' back yard, and giggling in the tent, they had decided to find out what all the fuss was about kissing.

They had leaned in, pressed their lips together, and held their breath. Five seconds went by, and then Feyre pulled back, laughing.

“It’s kind of... wet,” she had said, wiping her mouth of the back of her hand. But Rhys been too stunned to say anything. He followed Feyre’s lead as she lay back in her sleeping bag and launched into a story about a particularly annoying boy at school, and Rhys had pretended to listen. But all the while, his fists were clenched tight at his side, as he fought to get in control of the strange, hot sensation that had started where Feyre’s mouth touched his and had somehow pooled in his stomach like lava. More troublingly, it was moving further south, and the young teenage Rhys was baffled by the apparent autonomy the lower part on his anatomy had lately been growing.

And then the next day Feyre’s mother had a stroke in the kitchen, and hadn’t survived the ambulance ride. And her father, grief stricken and barely functional, and up and moved the whole family to the other side of the country to avoid any reminder of his dead wife. Hadn’t actually managed to sell the house, just abandoned it and let it sit empty and decay over the years. And Rhys, Rhys was left alone with his drunk, bitter father, and he never got to tell Feyre that he was sorry her mother had died, that he knew exactly what it felt like and wanted to be there for her, that he was pretty sure he loved her with all of his thirteen year old heart.

Over the next decade, Rhys’ father got older but not more sober. His arm weakened, thankfully, although his aim somehow never did. Rhys cared for him the best he could until he died- liver failure of course- and then up and moved to the city using the money from his fathers estate. There was a surprisingly large amount of money for the frequency with which Rhys had been fed hot meals as a kid.

He had looked Feyre up on social media, but she was working as an artist now and her photos were all of her work, very rarely with her in them. He had wanted to message so many times, but when he saw how well she was doing, it hadn’t seemed right. Not when he felt like a stark reminder of such a bad time in her life.

And then her father had passed away, leaving them both orphans, and she had reached out to him.

By email, for chrissake. Like some kind of professional courtesy.

Hi Rhys,

Long time no see. I’m guess you’ve head the news by now. Cancer, in the end. But I think he was sort of waiting to die for a long time. Anyway, Nesta and Elain have pretty much checked out of the situation, and so I’ve taken over the big job- selling the old house. My sisters basically said just do it and send us the money.

The upshot is, I’ll be travelling back to the old neighbourhood in about a week. I know it’s been forever, but you lived in that house most as much as we did. I was wondering if you wanted to come down and hang out, before we sell it. I’ve been talking to realtors and I’ll probably be there just a few days, and then leave it to them. I don’t know how any of this works to be honest.

You’re welcome to come with me if you want, but no pressure.

Feyre

Rhys had written back straight away, and before he knew it he was on a plane. Back to that sad little suburb, with its malignant houses and crumpled people. To his father's house, where there were cracks in the wall that Rhys' younger bones had bade. To the Archeron home, where he had found refuge after the old man had passed out, drunk.

To Feyre.

He had no idea what to expect. Had spent the whole flight full to the brim of jitters, and wondering what it would be like to see her again, and cursing himself for letting it get this far and then to not have been the one to reach out first.

And then his feet marched themselves down the crooked streets, knowing where to go instinctively, so before he knew it he was standing before his old house. And hers.

Actually being there was like a punch in the gut. Rhys suddenly felt eight years old again, and even the anticipation of how his old house smelled had nausea rolling in his gut. He didn't think he'd be so affected by it. He wondered if anyone had moved into the house- there were no cars or toys in the front yard, but the garden wasn't overgrown. Not like the Archeron house.

His old neighbour's place looked terrible. Mould was growing over the peeling paint, a few of the windows in the front were cracked, and weeds reigned over the garden. So different from when the girls had lived here, and Elain had been so dilligent with her botanical care.

Rhys remained in silent contemplation for another minute or so, and then, taking him quite by surprise, the front door opened. And there stood Feyre.

Rhys eyes threatened to throw themselves out of their sockets. He worked to keep his jaw shut, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight of her.

Feyre was gorgeous.

Little girl Feyre had white blonde hair, skinny arms, and blue bug-eyes. Little boy Rhys had loved her exactly how she was, and had thought she was the most perfect person in the world.

Grown up Feyre was astounding.

Her hair had darkened to the colour of gold and honey, and now curled gently over her shoulders. Her frame had filled out to accommodate softly curving hips and a modest cleavage. She had grown into her eyes, the delicate grey-blue of them like rain-clouds on the horizon. Rhys had been waiting and waiting to meet Feyre again, but this... this was ridiculous.

Since leaving his father's house, Rhys had to admit he spent a lot of time on his body. He never wanted to feel so weak as when he was six years old and unable to protect his mother from his father's rage. Thankfully, as a teenager he started to pile on muscle quite easily. And then after moving out, he made sure to tattoo over the scars on his chest so that his father had no say over what his skin looked like.

And yet now he felt tiny again, and devastated that this Feyre was completely out of his league. He didn't know what to say to her.

Turned out, he didn't have to.

"Rhys!" Feyre said, seeing him standing there. She crossed the yard in a few strides, and before he got so much as a 'hello' out, Feyre had wrapped her arms around him. The smell of her neck right under his nose floored him. She pulled back, with her hands still on him.

"Rhys, I can't believe you're here!" Feyre looked him up and down, and laughed. "Well you got big, huh?"

God, her laugh. He didn't remember it being so musical.

"Hey Feyre," he said out loud. "I'm sorry about your dad." Feyre squeezed his arms. "Thanks. And thank you for coming. It's really good to see you." "It's good to see you," Rhys said. "I'm so sorry it's taken so long." "Well, we're here now," Feyre said, and in that moment Rhys was determined to never let her get that far away from him again.

"So how have you been?" Rhys started to ask. But at that moment, the door opened again, and a man with a blonde man-bun stepped out. He looked like one of those surfer dudes Rhys had never liked.

"Babe," he said. "There's definitely termites in there. It's gonna lower the price point for sure."

Rhys stared. Babe?

Feyre rolled her eyes. "Great, just add it to the list."

It was then that the man noticed Rhys. He extended a hand.

"Hey buddy, I'm Tamlin," he said. "Hey... buddy," Rhys replied tersely. Feyre jumped in. "Tamlin, this is Rhys, he used to live next door when we were kids." Feyre put her hand on Tamlin's arm, and smiled a heartbreaking smile at him.

"Rhys, this is Tamlin. My fiancé."

****

So okay, it has been one week since I hit tumblr and spewed my story telling guts all over you lovely, sweet, kind people.

I know you connected really well with Lockdown Lovers, and it seems maybe a bit less well with Circus of Dreams? So I am throwing out one more AU, a little darker this time. I will keep posting CoD, but please let me know what you think and what you guys want to read.

Anyway I have been uploading manically over the last 7 days and at the moment I feel like I'm bombarding you with my filthy daydreams, so I'm going to try very hard to take a couple days off writing and let people actually read the damn things!

Finally, thank you so, so much for the support and love. I've been using this place to escape from personal problems and you have been outstanding. Hopefully in a few days I'll post at a more reasonable rate and from a better head space.

Thank you, lovers.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies

[ihappentolikefnafsurprise]

Personalities: FNaF 1

I’ve been meaning to do this for so long, just never decided to sit down and do it. Probably because I keep getting distracted with other stuff. Feast your eyes (is that how it goes, I might be dumb). I spent a couple of hours on this, and let me tell you I never thought it’d be this difficult. But I’m proud of this, even if it may be cringe.

(oops they ended up being really long I think you can tell who’s my favourite character (hint they’re a robot))

Basically everyone in this group are buds. Sometimes they don’t get a long but they know how to not take it too far. I tried not to repeat cliches (Goldie being either really flirty or really shy, Chica being a cook, etc.). I mostly went off of what they do in the game and took the traits I liked.

Note that these are the personalities of the animatronics themselves, not the dead children. The idea is that they started off as just the kids but then they got their own lives and slowly developed their own personality until they were separate. I might give them some personalities later on, but right now I’m focusing on the robots.

Likes to be the boss

Freddy

Seems grumpy and unapproachable but he’s actually pretty nice

Scary when he scolds you though

He doesn’t even realize he seems grouchy

Can be pretty boring to hang out with

Unless you enjoy cleaning, dealing with Chica and Foxy, and reading in silence

Bonnie is the one he’s the closest to

(sort of because of Fredbear and Springbonnie being friends, they’re not copying they just happen to mirror it)

Loves hugs and uses them to comfort others

He’ll also use his music box

He’s good at comforting others with hugs

Hates the “don’t touch Freddy” rule

Has a really nice singing voice

He hums and sings when he’s bored or when he’s doing something

The cook of the group and he can make a good pizza

He makes thin-crusted pizzas because helth

He can’t eat so he’ll leave them in the fridge for the kids

Everyone’s baffled on how it got there but accept it anyway

He remembers all the children who come and loves them all very much

He likes to keep things tidy

When Chica’s made a mess in the kitchen he goes in to clean it

He used to scold her for it, but he’s given up

He picks up random items that the children forget with the intention of returning them

Straight up eats them

(He steps in the backroom or goes behind the curtain to get the toys out, children don’t need to see that)

He still continues to pick up toys even when he can’t go off the stage anymore, just a habit that stayed

Frustrated that the new employees just throw away the toys instead of putting them in the lost and found

Sometimes he plays the arcade machines on his own time

He likes to read

There’s no books though, so he just ends up reading manuals, newspapers that people leave behind, employee files, etc.

Until he secretly ordered a book series for himself

It took some convincing from the others

But he ultimately decided to because he doesn’t like the owner

Also the owner is really bad at actually managing the restaurant so he never noticed

Because of this Freddy often steps in from behind the scenes when things are really going wrong, like employees misbehaving

He sends an email to them and then he gives them a little fright when they come into work and they usually either quit or straighten up

He likes earthy tones like brown and beige because he’s boring

Bonnie

He comes off as nonchalant and uncaring

People think he’s angsty

It’s basically his whole persona when he’s on stage, he’s supposed to be the party pooper that doesn’t like parties but is eventually convinced by his friends to join and has fun

Off stage he doesn’t have that much of a presence

He can approach people just fine and isn’t really that shy

He’s just a quiet guy

Probably the best one to chill with because he’ll talk if you’re talking but he’s cool with silence and just enjoying each other’s presence

The type to laugh at his own expense

Has some dark humour and likes to joke around with Foxy, who also enjoys that humour

Secretly the mother hen of the group (despite being a bunny and a guy, he just fits mother)

Would laugh if you trip but then subtly watch you for injuries

If it’s an animatronic he can do some basic fixing

Doesn’t know anything about human first aid, but he’ll help where he can and call for help if he needs to

The type of guy to seem calm but there’s internal panic

If something seems kind of dangerous he’ll watch from afar

But if it’s too dangerous he’s the first one to shut it all down

Good at comforting others

Worries a lot and is probably the most cautious of the group

Very protective

It’s why he’s the first one to come to your door, he wants to make sure it’s no one dangerous (even though they’re like 400lb robots but sssh)

Hides most of his worrying, thinks he’d come across as annoying

Weak to puppy-dog eyes

Likes happy alternative music, but he’s open to almost anything

Plays the guitar by ear

Is pretty good, not legendary, but he experiments on his own

Can’t read sheet music

His favourite colour is red

Takes random pieces of paper like articles and anything useless and writes on the back of them like a diary, he keeps it hidden inside of the backroom in one of the Bonnie heads

Chica

Chaos incarnate

She’s a hyperactive kid that has trouble considering other’s feelings

Struggles with responsibility

Her favourite colour is green

Not at all good at comforting people

But she can listen while you rant and chime in or give you a distraction if you need it

“you wouldn’t believe the crap I had to deal with today”

“I wanna know everything!”

She’s actually the physically the strongest in the group

They’re all pretty strong, she’s just at the top

Mostly uses her strength to lift tables in order to make forts and playing around in the kitchen

Has broken many pans and lots of cooking utensils

Terrible cook

Can’t be left in the kitchen unsupervised for too long otherwise you run the risk of her starting a fire

Good at singing

Loves happy-go-lucky tunes

Radiates positivity

Doesn’t like the others being sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it

She’d probably get Freddy or Bonnie to help

Baby of the group (she is an adult though)

Has excellent puppy-dog eyes, only Freddy can stand them

Has trouble dealing with her own emotions

Tends to idolize or idealize people too much

Doesn’t understand what the outside world is like, or any of the problems that people deal with

I think that you gathered by now that she is not the mother hen of the group, even though she’s chicken

More like the kid sister that wants you to play dolls with her

Doesn’t like being alone and will find others to keep her company

Her feelings get hurt pretty easily

She can take a joke, just don’t be mean even if it is funny

Easily made happy by food

Tries to convince Freddy to make her pizza

When he doesn’t she’s like “fine then I’ll make it on my own”

Spends like a half hour trying to decide which pan to use and even more time getting the ingredients together

Freddy stops her before she can actually make anything, otherwise the whole place will burn

She’s easily distracted and tends to be absentminded

But if she finds something she likes she can sit there and do it for hours

Doesn’t like sudden noises, even though she makes them

Impulsive

Doesn’t play the arcade games, they make her mad

Foxy

The other chaos incarnate, he’s Chica’s partner in crime

If they were left in a room together all the tables would be smashed the chairs would be arranged to make a fortress

Tends to cause a lot of trouble so he gets put in time out often by the Freddy’s

Claims they’re being bums but they just want to keep the building intact

He sneaks away when they’re not looking sometimes and gets in even more trouble

Has the same dark humour as Bonnie

But he doesn’t laugh at himself

Actually a little self conscious

He’s a psychopath that enjoys exercise

When I say exercise I mean running and that’s it

He likes to pretend he’s either running away from or being chased by a huge monster

It’s one of the few things that can calm him down, just let him burn off some energy

Makes the others time him, but Chica usually gets distracted

Not a bad person, he just has a very hard time sitting still

He likes to draw

Carves little pictures into the floor of the cove when he’s bored

He’s running out of space though

If you give him a colouring book (they have some children’s colouring books and crayons) he’ll be calm up until he’s finished, then he’ll want to do another one

He also likes storytelling

Don’t ask him to write though, he doesn’t have much patience

Struggles with feelings of sadness

Misses performing for the kids

Most negative emotions translate into anger

Which will result in him trying to smash things and they others having to hold him back

Says things he doesn’t mean and does things that he wouldn’t do otherwise

He just can’t handle the emotion

Luckily he doesn’t get angry often

More often than not he’ll just pretend the negative feelings don’t exist, which also isn’t healthy

Out of everyone in the group he wants to go outside the most

He likes movies

There was a cheap VCR and tv in the boss’s office that’s now in the pirate cove

Somehow, none of the employees realized he took it

Either that or they just weren’t paid enough to care

He has like two movies he watches on repeat, it’s another thing you can give him to calm him down.

His favourite colour is blue, like the ocean

The true angsty one

Golden Freddy/Goldie/Fredbear

Spends a lot of time alone

Kind of a grump

Doesn’t like being bothered

He got the nickname Golden Freddy because that’s what the others called him when they first met him

It didn’t stick at all until the night guards that saw him called him that

Now it’s something the others call him to tease him, but they usually shorten it to Gold or Goldie.

He doesn’t really mind Gold or Goldie, but Golden Freddy kind of bothers him because it makes it sound like he came after when he’s actually the original

Doesn’t say anything though

Hangs out in the safe room, so the others can’t really get to him anyway

But they can yell through the door so there’s that

(I know it’s supposed to be invisible to them but they have life and stuff so they can see, they just can’t go inside)

He’s very sleepy

Spends most of his time sleeping or daydreaming

Doesn’t really miss performing

Says it was fun while it lasted but he’s fine with it being over

Though sometimes he eats his words when it’s daytime and the kids come

The cheering gives him the urge to come out and say hi even though he knows he shouldn’t

Misses being able to hang out with Springbonnie all the time

Springbonnie is there in the backroom with him, it’s kind of why he spends so much time in there

He activates sometimes, but he usually stays shut down to conserve battery

It’s pretty random

Springbonnie doesn’t know much about what’s going on, he never stays up long enough to get a full explaination

But he does try his best to keep his friend in high hopes

(I’ll be writing his personality later on, with FNaF 4)

There’s no way to charge him because the chargers are on the stage and the others can’t come in to help move him and Goldie’s not strong enough

And he can’t get up on his own

He likes being able to talk to him sometimes at least

Every now and then the others have to convince him to come out

He comes out on his own occasionally

But sometimes he shuts himself out completely and doesn’t realize how lonely he is, even if it is self-inflicted

The best way to get him to come out is knock-knock jokes, he loves them and the irony of it being through a door is just perfect

Likes even the cheesy ones

You can tell him puns or some well-constructed jokes too, he likes pretty much everything

He’s the grumpiest but he’s also the best at making others laugh

What can I say, he has a lot of time on his hands

When he does come out he hangs out with Freddy or Bonnie, the other two are too high energy for him

He plays the arcade games

He has the highest score, since he literally lives there and can play them whenever he wants

Likes the repetitiveness of some of the games

Even if he’s kind of a grump and a recluse the others respect him and come to him for advice when they need it

It’s sometimes stupid stuff like “where did my guitar go” and “quick help me hide Bonnie’s guitar”

He likes the colour purple

[the-wretched-and-joyful]

Sweet Treat

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Word count: 700+

Warning: none really, unless you want a warning for the use of the word Hell

Summary: you were tired of being on the receiving end of Jungkook’s plans. It was time you gave him a “taste” of his own medicine!

A/N: I finally said fuck it and wrote something. Hope y’all like this and don’t come @ me for any editing mistakes love you all!

You weren’t the kind of person to play a lot of pranks. But your boyfriend left you no choice.

While Jungkook appeared to be pretty mature and sensitive at times, he still had a brat mode. And when that brat mode mixed with his prankster mode, he was capable of raising hell.

Usually, you didn’t mind; hell, it was even entertaining to watch him prank other people. Sometimes you were even guilty of giving him some pointers on how his pranks can be even better, because that’s what people in relationships do, right? But it all turned real sour when he started targeting you with all his pranks.

So far, he had put semi-permanent hair color in your shampoo [which was not that bad considering you WERE thinking about dying your hair anyways], he replaced mouthwash with soda, gave you a heart attack when he decided to chug an entire bottle of tequila in front of you, only to find out later that it was just water in a clean bottle of tequila, and changed the password to your wifi, sending you on a treasure hunt across your apartment to find it. And these would be enjoyable if someone else was at the receiving end.

But you weren’t entertained.

So just like your mother’s child you are, you decided to get back at him, and the perfect idea came to you from a prank video on social media.

Thankfully it was an off day, which meant that he was home, and you’ll have plenty of time to play the prank on him, but you had to be careful, cause you can’t let him know what you were doing. So you waited till he went down for a nap to prepare everything.

After a long enough nap, Jungkook wakes up with a serious craving for something sweet. Walking into the living room, he sees you sitting on the couch, typing something on your laptop, probably working. Without disturbing you, he walks into the kitchen to find something sweet and finds a real treat when he opens the freezer.

“You made these?” he walks into the living room with the bowl you had just put into the freezer a few hours back.

“Yeah, I knew you’d wake up wanting something sweet to eat, so I made chocolate eggs just for you!” you lean in and kiss his cheek, while he smiles unabashedly.

“Wow, I have the best girlfriend in the world!” he wraps his hand around your shoulder and kisses your head, sitting back and turning on the TV in the room, taking one egg and tossing it into his mouth with a smile. But the moment he bit into it, he realized he shouldn’t have played so many pranks on you in the last week.

Almost throwing up on the carpet, he runs to the kitchen to spit out the raw egg and chocolate mixture in his mouth, with the background music of your loud cackling laugh in the living room. You couldn’t believe that he actually fell for the prank, that he actually believed that the chocolate eggs were anything but your retaliation for all those pranks.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?” he speed walks in the room, tackling your laughing figure on the couch, trying hard to keep his own grin at bay and acting mad, “why would you do this to your loving boyfriend?”

“Maybe because I have lemon green hair because of my loving boyfriend!” you roll your eyes, still chuckling about the entire situation, “Plus, eating raw eggs can be beneficial for your diet you know!”

“NOT when it’s mixed with chocolate!” he finally laughs, begrudgingly admitting the brilliance of your plan. He lets you go after playfully shaking you once again, emitting more laughter from you. Sitting back he pulls the bowl back to him, this time taking a good look at your creation.

“I have to admit I was baffled that you fell for it, I expected you to be smarter,” your teasing only made him laugh and shake his head. He breaks one egg on the bowl, seeing that it was really a quail egg covered in a thick layer of chocolate.

“I’m going to think twice before pranking you next time,” he declares after putting the bowl back on the table again, “you’re dangerous!”

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” you coo at him and pinch his cheeks before getting up to find him some real snack this time, assured that it will be months before he forgets about this incident before pranking you again.

[crystal-snowing]

fake dating | seo changbin

synopsis: in order to take over the family company there is one condition that you need to fulfill, and in the heat of the moment and without thinking things through, you happen to mention your best friend, seo changbin. 

genre: best friends to lovers!au, rich! reader, idol!au

word count: 4.6k 

warnings: alcohol consumption and some light swearing

other members:  | felix | chan | jisung | minho | jeongin | seungmin | hyunjin |

a/n: i am now trying to restrain myself from starting any new series until i finish these uncompleted ones, join me on my journey to see if i actually follow through with this :)) also, this gif was edited by me, but the original gif belongs to @/changbeanie

seo changbin has been a constant figure in your life for as long as you can remember.  

it only made sense, after all, you were a part of the wealthy and illustrious [l/n] family, owners and inventors of some of the most high-end technology in south korea. 

when you were both children, fancy socialite gatherings were definitely not your scene, and being the only two kids there, it only made sense that the two of you would strike up a friendship. 

and this friendship continued to last as the two of you grew older, and even though you both went on separate paths, you both continued to stay in contact. 

it wasn’t a surprise to you when you learned that he had become an idol, especially debuting under the coveted company of JYP, he just had this knack about him—some kind of drive, that made you know he was going to go far. 

you, on the other hand, had your life planned out for you since the day you were born. 

it was only natural that you were going to inherit the multi-million dollar company from your parents, they would want it to go to nobody else except their own child, and you didn’t have a choice to decide otherwise. 

all your life you have been groomed for this position, and while attending school and then university, did you retain some of your independence and freedoms, you knew that it would all be over as soon as you graduated. 

it was pointless to try and delay your future, but there were nights were you longed for the freedoms of just being a normal person, instead of the heir to the [l/n] cooperation. 

and in more ways than one, did you envy the freedom and fun that your best friend seemed to be having in comparison to you. 

but as you grew older, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else but running the company, it was your life and it was in your blood. 

in more ways than one, you were determined to succeed in all the ways that your parents failed, and you would make yourself worthy of the position CEO rather than a spoiled brat who simply inherited the position. 

however, what you were not expecting was a second request from your parents the day that you were signed over as the new CEO. 

“you want me to do what?” 

“it’s simple [y/n], sweetie, it’s not like we’re asking you to make a life altering decision!”

“mother, with all due respect, but i don’t want to get married.” 

“well, then i’m afraid that you don’t really have a choice. i’m sorry for giving you an ultimatum like these, but either you find yourself a suitable husband, or the company will have a new heir.” 

to say that you were baffled was a complete understatement. 

but, you needed this, the company, this lifestyle—everything, and you were not willing to let a slight hiccup in your plans deter you from getting what you wanted. 

and before you could stop yourself, the words had already spilled out of your mouth—a desperate attempt to keep everything that you have worked for still within your grasp.

“i’m not sure i’m going to need to find a husband, when i already have a boyfriend.”

oh how the tables have turned. 

turning away you fiddled with the hem of your clothing underneath the table, it was a blatant lie for sure, but you were desperate and if this was the only way that you could acquire the company, then so be it. 

however you weren’t in the clear just yet, your mother narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, still skeptical of your statement. 

“you’ve never mentioned a boyfriend, who is this boy and when can we meet him?”

crap, you didn’t think this far ahead—the jig was up, you were done for, and now you were going to be in even more trouble for lying.

you had to think quickly, something, anything that could possibly get you out of this predicament and quickly. 

and once again, as if you didn’t learn from your mistake just a few minutes ago, you opted for saying the name that came to mind. 

“seo changbin, he’s my boyfriend.” 

finally, that seemed to render your mother speechless, as you quickly bid your parents goodbye with a promise that you would call them later and set up a meeting. 

it was only when you stepped out of the building, could you feel the cool breeze on your heated cheeks, did you finally understand the gravity of the situation that you were in. 

somehow, if it was even possible, you seemed to have dug yourself into an even deeper hole than before.

slumping against the building and sliding down to the concrete sidewalk below, you placed your head in your hands and roughly scrubbed your face, wondering how you could have possibly ended up in a situation like this.

in all honesty, both you and changbin had not lost contact per se, but kind of drifted apart—both of you had become preoccupied with other responsibilities, and texting nonstop was more harmful than beneficial. 

you weren’t on terrible terms, so you could assume this fact was at least a partial silver lining in this fucked up situation.

but, on the other hand, it was kind of awkward for you to suddenly call him out of the blue, and ask him to do this relationship-altering favor for you after you both have spoken to each other in so long. 

but, once again, what choice did you have?

reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your cellphone before dialing the familiar number, waiting only three rings before he picked up. 

“i made a boo-boo,” you couldn’t help the phrase that tumbled out of your mouth as soon as he answered. 

he chuckled slightly before answering, “well, hello to you too, we haven’t talked in almost three months and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

letting out a deep sigh, you hastily explained the predicament that you were in, everything from inheriting the company, to how your parents set up this ridiculous condition in order for you to do so.

“and so i kind of may have, sorta, mentioned your name,” you mumbled, clutching the phone close to your ear as you gnawed harshly on your lower lip. 

there was silence on the other end of the line for a couple of seconds, and you could vaguely heard what sounded like screams of other boys in the background, with the sound of laughter and loud music following them. 

“i completely understand if you can’t do this, i mean with your career and everything and this could really jeopardize everything, i mean i honestly don’t even know what came over me when i—” you continued to stammer, tapping your fingers rapidly against the back of your phone.

“[y/n], relax, take a deep breath and relax,” and upon following his instructions, you could easily feel some of the stress leave your body as he continued, “right now isn’t really the best time, but let me call you back later tonight, and we can talk about this.”

but that didn’t answer your question, in fact it only seemed to cause a resurgence in your anxiety, and before he could hang up you mumbled out another question. 

“this means you’ll help me, right?” 

it was almost inaudible, how softly you whispered, and you weren’t sure if he even heard you, but as soon as you heard his laughter, you were a bit perplexed to say the least.

you weren’t sure what to think about the chuckling on the other side of the line, but it filled you with a sense of warmth—a sensation that you haven’t felt in a long while. 

“yes, i’ll be your fake boyfriend,” changbin confirmed softly, before bidding you goodbye.

currently, it was close to eleven o’clock at night, and still there was no sign of life from the electronic device, and you were stressed to say the least. 

 he said that he would call, he said that he would call—a mantra that was currently repeating like a broken record inside your head. 

however, your anxiety soon turned to confusion as soon as you heard a faint knock at your front door. 

visitors at this hour were unheard of, especially for you, who lived in a penthouse on the top floor of the apartment complex, the most secluded portion of the building. 

taking a look through the peephole, you were surprised to see changbin there, dressed in casual grey sweats and sneakers with a black mask and cap covering most of his features, but to you it was completely obvious that it was him. 

quickly you opened the door and ushered him into your apartment, closing it behind him and prompting him to take off his makeshift disguise.

“what are you doing here, i thought you were going to call?” you asked, turning around and facing him, your eyes widening a bit as you drank in his appearance.

 he looked good, honestly, good was not even the word to describe how good he looked. 

even though it has been a couple months since the two of you last texted each other, it has been maybe a couple of years since you both have seen each other—and you had to admit, whatever they have been feeding him at jyp entertainment has certainly done him well.

he has muscles now and long-gone was the lanky boy from middle school, his skin was glowing, and there was something about the way that he carried himself, perhaps with more confidence that was perhaps kind of attractive. 

“we haven’t seen each other in so long, i was thinking that you wouldn’t mind me paying you a visit,” changbin grinned, flashing his pearly whites. 

yikes, suddenly it was feeling a bit stuffy in the room, as you turned away and adjusted the baggy old t-shirt that you were wearing, suddenly self-conscious about the way that you were dressed. 

grabbing some drinks from the kitchen, you offered one to him as you both sat on the couch, popping the top of the bottle, you took a long sip before whipping your mouth with the back of your hand, before speaking.

“so, this is what i need you to do.” 

it was simple, really, you were going to schedule a dinner with your parents and introduce him as your boyfriend and in the meantime you just needed to fill both of your phones up with “memories” of the two of you in order to really sell the story that you have been dating for months. 

now, the tricky part was revolving everything around changbin’s situation as an idol.

there was no way you were willing to drag his name through the mud and absolutely tarnish everything that he has worked for, but this relationship had to be believable and in order for that to work there was bound to be conflicts in scheduling. 

perhaps, you had thought too rashly about this whole situation, who were you kidding, you weren’t even thinking when you blurted out his name, and now you were in a deep dilemma.

and after voicing your concerns to him, he waved his hand, telling you that it was no problem at all—promising you that he was going to keep this, his personal life, private from his idol life.

and so everything started to be set in motion. 

it began with the cryptic posts that you started posting on instagram, most of the time they showed a picture of you in the city or some food that you would eat, nothing typically out of the ordinary.

a few days later, changbin would post something on the official stray kids account, a similar picture to your own, as if he was mirroring everything that you posted.

none of your antics seemed to draw suspicion from the public, which was a good sign, so you decided to up the ante.

“no, you’re standing all wrong,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at changbin. 

“what do you mean, i’m standing exactly how you want me to,” he chuckled, mimicking your stance, “maybe you’re the one standing wrong.” 

instead of answering, you slapped him lightly on the arm, “let’s just do this again, and make sure you follow exactly what i tell you!” 

he rolled his eyes playfully before doing what he was told.

you stood in front of him in front of a mirror, his hands came to wrap around your hips, as his head nuzzled into your neck, and for the final touch, your hand interlocked with one that was resting on your hip. 

he smelled good, like really good, perhaps a mix of sandalwood and some kind of light citrus.

you couldn’t deny the heat that flooded your cheeks, feeling the warmth radiate off of him, his scent making you feel a bit lightheaded. 

this was your idea after all, but you didn’t think that you were going to get like this swooning over your best friend as if you were back in middle school all over again. 

that’s right, seo changbin was nothing more than just your best friend, and thinking these things about him was only going to drive a wedge between the two of you. 

snapping the picture quickly, you pulled away, causing a small frown to flash across his lips, before vanishing.

“so, how did it come out?” changbin asked, peeking over your shoulder as he shoved his now empty arms inside of his pockets. 

“uh, really good! don’t worry, your face is completely covered, so nobody will know.” 

“we should probably meet by the pier next week to take some more, i heard that was a popular spot for couples,” he nodded, pulling away slightly from your figure. 

you couldn’t help that warm and fuzzy feeling from tingling up your spine as the word “couple” left his mouth. 

it was foolish to think this way, and you knew that, but in all honesty, how could you possibly help yourself? 

somewhere in these past few weeks, the line between “newly reconnected best friends” and “perhaps something more” began to blur and you found yourself lost in a sea of emotions and feelings.

he was a successful idol, with seven other successful members that were counting on him, and something like this, would be detrimental to his career. 

something like this could never happen, and even indulging in it for a second was not worth the wasted time and effort.

but, only for a second, you could wish that the two of you were different people in another life, perhaps ordinary people and then maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. 

somehow you had attempted to convince yourself that you were content with the way life was right now, trapped in the limbo that you called a love life, and perfectly happy with the very real feelings you were currently experiencing with your fake boyfriend. 

“you have that look on your face again, is it the food?” changbin asked, tilting his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed, “i can call the waiter back and you can order something else if you want, i don’t mind.” 

the salty breeze surrounded you, and for a second you thought you were going to be sick. 

it was almost nauseating the way that he was looking at you, there was so much care and consideration in his eyes, that you were practically ready to yeet throw yourself off of the boardwalk and into the ocean below.

it was unfair the way that he was acting right now, it was almost as if he expected you to fall for him and at this rate, you weren’t sure if you could stop. 

the candle light illuminated his features perfectly, casting a soft shadow on his handsome face that your heart already skipped ten beats since you’ve got here—and with his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscles, it was already game over. 

you had already finished taking pictures, and you had already uploaded them to your account, the picture of you and him (his face obscured of course) was already generating thousands of likes, and you were both just enjoying your food and each other’s company.

“it’s nothing! i don’t want to ruin the night,” you dismissed his worries with a wave of your hand, taking your fork and shifting the food on your plate from one side to the other.

while your attention was fixated on the plate in front of you, you were oblivious to the deep frown that was etched on his lips. 

in one swift motion, he reached across the table and grabbed your wrist, forcing you to look at him. 

“your problems are my problems, at the end of the day we’re still best friends, and i don’t want that to change between us.” 

the intensity and sincerity that reflected through his brown eyes caused shivers to travel down your spine, but ouch did his words sting. 

flashing him a sheepish smile, you gently tugged his hand off of your wrist, the warmth almost a painful reminder of his words, before speaking. 

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me!” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “how about we go play some carnival games after dinner, those used to be our favorite when we were kids.” 

he didn’t put up much of a fight as you grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the table after paying, both of you getting lost in the bright lights and sounds of the boardwalk. 

and at the end of the night, when he dropped you back off at your apartment with a giant teddy bear and polaroids in your hand, you couldn’t help but somehow taste the bittersweetness on your tongue. 

that night, the words “best friends” were the only thing ringing through your head as you drifted off to sleep.

fast forward a couple of months later, and you found yourself stressing out at the most upscale restaurant in the city, practically guzzling the entire bottle of wine that the waiter left unattended at your table. 

sitting on your right sat changbin, dressed handsomely in a tie and suit, eyeing you as you finished your second glass within fifteen minutes of arriving. 

“woah there, don’t you think you should chill out with the alcohol,” he scolded you grabbing both the bottle and the glass, moving it away from you as you merely shrugged. 

“they’re not here yet, plus if i’m sober, they are definitely going to see right through this lie.” 

there was already a slight haziness to your vision and your whole body was filled with warmth, but you were definitely not as intoxicated as you wish you were. 

and that wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. 

you see, changbin looked absolutely dashing in that suit, and well that was making your heart hurt a little more than you expected. 

it had nothing to do with the suit itself, no, in fact he hasn’t done anything wrong per se ever since he picked you up for the dinner tonight. 

instead, you were completely and utterly upset at him, and everything about him frustrated you to no end.

this dinner right here was the end game, it was simple really, after your parents accepted him and with the promise that the two of you would get married, the company was yours.

then, the two of you would “breakup” and your parents cannot rescind their offer without looking like fools in front of the media—therefore, everything that you could ever want was waiting for you as soon as this dinner ended. 

however, was it really everything that you wanted? 

because the man that was currently sitting next to you was certainly not excluded from the list. 

he was making you reevaluate if this was all that you wanted for the rest of your life, like yes, you would have the company—the sole thing that you have you wanted since you were a child, but you wouldn’t have him. 

and you weren’t sure if the company was even worth it anymore if you could never truly have him. 

and as you were about to reach for both the bottle and glass, the ding of the elevator stopped you cold in your tracks, and you instead opted for sitting gracefully back down in your seat.

there, entering the room were your parents, a composed expression etched on their faces as they made their way over to your table. 

“[y/n], my darling, it’s nice to see you,” your mother greeted you, before turning her attention away and onto your companion, “and who is this?” 

holding back a sigh, you cleared your throat before speaking, “this is my boyfriend, seo changbin.”

pleasantries between your parents and him were exchanged, and now it was time to commence the most dreadful dinner that you have ever attended. 

it was so obvious that your parents were suspicious of changbin, and unlike you, they were not as good at concealing their feelings. 

they started with the usual questions, “oh, how long have the two of you been dating?”, “what do you do for a living?”, “what are your intentions with my child?”, etc. 

and while the both of you have prepped for these questions, he definitely answered better than you could have hoped, some of his answers seeming so genuine that it made your chest ache. 

throughout the night, you could feel his gaze lingering on you as you continued to sip more wine, the alcoholic beverage making you feel warm and slightly numbed the pain of sitting here and having to listen to your parents incessantly brag about their jobs. 

the night was soon drawing to a close, and you were absolutely certain that changbin had won over your parents, they would not stop laughing at his jokes and their whole demeanor was like something you have rarely seen, for once, they looked happy. 

“thank you for coming tonight, and i really enjoyed meeting you,” changbin bowed slightly, as your parents dismissed him with a wave of their hand. 

“it was our pleasure meeting you again, and make sure you tell your mother hello for us,” your mother smiled as she made her way towards the elevator. 

she walked over towards you and gave you a hug, whispering in your ear that by tomorrow the company was yours, before both of your parents walked into the elevator and the doors closed with a firm click. 

this should have been your moment of victory, your moment of joy—your moment of realizing that everything that you have worked for was finally being realized, but it wasn’t.

walking out of the restaurant, you couldn’t help but admire how brightly the stars seemed to twinkle in the sky tonight, despite the ever bright lights of seoul. 

“oh no, i know that look, do you wanna tell me where your head is at, [n/n]?” 

your eyes glanced up to meet his own, before looking away admiring the bright lights of the city instead of having to confront him and talk about your problems. 

you were perfectly content with walking back to your apartment this way, in complete and utter silence, but your last straw seemed to be when he draped his jacket around your shoulders. 

“you need it more than i do, plus it’s cold ou and your parents would never forgive me, if you caught a cold.” 

that seemed to be the straw that broke camel’s back, and you weren’t sure what came over you, but you suddenly exploded. 

“just stop alright, it’s over, whatever this is between us is over.” 

you could feel him slightly flinch at your words, pulling away from your figure as his eyes narrowed at you. 

“what are you talking about? what is ‘this’? i was just helping you, doing a favor for a friend, and  this is the thanks that i get?” he scowled, folding his arms across his chest as you both stopped walking, standing merely three feet away from each other on a deserted street. 

friend, that word just slapped you in the face, as you scowled and turned away from him.

“y’know what, just forget i even said anything, i can find my way home alone.”

turning your heel, you were about to stalk away in a huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger, but before you could even take another step, you were tugged back towards him. 

his warm hand enveloped your wrist, holding you firmly in place as you frowned at him.

“there’s no way i’m letting you walk home this late at night, if anything happened to you, i would never forgive myself.” 

you couldn’t help but scoff at his statement, “you can stop pretending, it’s fine, you can drop the act.” 

you could practically see the gears turning in his head, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he attempted to follow along your haphazard thought process. 

you weren’t sure if the alcohol was impairing your judgement or not, but before you could stop yourself, you blurted out what you have been thinking the entire night, “you can stop pretending that you like me.” 

cue the awkward tension, the grip on your hand loosened, and you were free to escape perhaps one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, but for some reason you feet was rooted to the ground—waiting, wishing, and hoping for a response. 

“who said i was pretending?” 

ah, there it was the rejection that you have been waiting—wait.

his voice cut through the silence like a knife, and you jerked your head up so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. 

“you, me, like, what?” 

your less-than grammatically correct sentence seemed to lessen the awkward tension, his laugh warming you despite the coolness of the night. 

“yes, me like you,” he grinned, pulling you closer to him until you were pressed against his chest, “and i agree, we should stop whatever this is and start dating for real.” 

“wow, aren’t you a charmer, changbin,” you chuckled lightly, practically feeling his heart beat in sync with your own. 

you weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not, but you could swear that the distance between both of your faces was starting to get smaller and you could practically feel his warm breath tingling your lips. 

“i’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?” 

you meekly nodded, before his lips were pressed firmly against your own, his hands coming to wrap around your waist as you moved yours around his neck. 

of course, he had to be such a great kisser, and you were wondering if there was possibly anything that seo changbin was bad at. 

his lips were slightly chapped, but with the way his hands were moving through your hair and the way he was making you lightheaded and unsteady on your feet, was enough for you to overlook that. 

pulling away, he pressed his forehead against your own, and the only sound that could be heard was the soft breathless gasps from the both of you. 

“now that i have you, i swear, i’m never letting you go.”

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 3x3 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

So I made a ginormous pause in between these again. I just wasn’t feeling up to the task, I guess. But it’s the anniversary of the premiere of AWAE, so what better day to do the penultimate one of these... Let’s just dive in because it’s been literal years since I first saw this episode and I remember literally nothing from it.

Oh my, Bash is just the best. And those baby chicks... well, I know what is most likely to happen to chickens on a farm when they grow older but... can we just maybe not think of that yet? Plus, seeing Mary keeps reminding me that soon I won’t be seeing her anymore. It’s safe to say I have mixed feelings about this cold open. Let’s move on.

Gosh, now they’re leaving Matthew alone with Delly, who is two types of people he’s uncomfortable around - a baby and a girl. But it’s fine, it will be just ‘a couple of hours’...

It is such a shame to think that Mary might have been saved... if she were white. People can be so awful. A human being is a human being. At least there are people like Dr. Ward and our protagonists who know that and act accordingly.

Oh... there’s that cute scene of Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables that I’ve seen in so many gifs... I can’t comment much on it so I’ll just sit back and enjoy. But before I go - Matthew is the best, most gentle man I’ve ever seen. He might be awkward around women and children, but he knows how to treat them right better than most people who are not awkward around them.

Oh gosh, the nappy! That kind of made me laugh out of place but, well, I just wanted to say - thank gods for Jerry and his many siblings. My boy knows how to change nappies.

Oh, they’ve got the printing press! Now that’s exciting! I feel like excitement is a good word to describe this episode, at least so far. We’ll see how I feel by the end of it. All I know is this is making me smile and I’ve really been needing that.

My, my, Ruby... I keep forgetting when it was that she got over Gilbert. Apparently it was not before mid-season, since she’s still in it way too deep. 

Oh wait... is this when things began happening between her and Moody? I mean, the way he gives her his handkerchief, you’d think ever since he stopped trying to make Diana and her ‘very blue’ dress notice him, he’s been sitting back and watching Ruby from afar, hoping he can, somehow, compare to Gilbert. The best part is, in just a bit, he won’t need to. Boy, do I need a fourth season even if just to see these two develop... and for Diana and Jerry to make up, and just in general to see the kids being all grown up... now I feel like crying because we’ll very probably never get it... ok, moving on.

Anne: Sometimes life finds gifts in the darkest of places./ Marilla: Indeed. Wait, was this Marilla’s way of telling Anne she loves her? This is just the best. 

The contrast between scenes dealing with Mary and the rest of the episode is just so stark, it’s jarring. It’s like, you never know the darkness someone might be sinking into  while everybody else is bathing in the light. You know, everybody involved in making this episode, and the show in its entirety, made it so poetic, and yet it’s not. It’s absolutely devastating. And now Gilbert can’t even tell Mary that she’s got no more than two weeks left. This is the worst. 

You know, Anne is right. Caring deeply will always be the right thing. I mean, it’s natural for Gilbert to doubt himself at this time, especially since the tragedy is happening to his own found family. You know, there’s something my mum taught me to do when I’m watching something and I can’t bear the subject matter of it - focus on the acting. And right now I’m just blown away by the superb performance by these incredible young people. But I really can’t bear to focus on the plot right now. And the acting being that good doesn’t particularly help me to detach myself from the story.

You know, tragic as what’s happening to Mary certainly is, it’s somehow lucky she has Anne in her life now that she’s about to leave her own daughter to grow up motherless. Because if only Anne’s parents had an orphan tell them what an orphaned child needs most, Anne’s own experience might have been very different. Mary is a very smart woman for realising that and talking to Anne about it. Because life is not about lamenting what we didn’t have. It’s about making sure we do what is in our power to make it easier for others if we can.

Ah, yes. Racism and ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality are still very much a thing present here. I guess this here is the first mention of that horrible prison of a school that Ka’kwet would be sent to. This is. The. Worst.

I just can’t bear to listen to this guy. ‘Heathens’ - you mean people with a rich culture and belief system beyond your privileged straight white male comprehension? ‘Teach them all things civilised’ - you mean erase their own, I repeat, rich culture, and replace it with your white man’s ideas of civilisation? What deity fell from the heavens and made you God? And the way Rachel totally agrees with this guy, it just makes me sick. As if that guy would hesitate to discriminate against you on the basis of you being a woman! I just can’t with this. Let’s move on.

‘Be sure you marry for love. Only for love.’ Don’t worry, Mary, he will. Not before a huge, long period of confusion, mind you. But he’ll come to his senses eventually. People do stupid things when they’re young. That’s how they know they’ve lived it to the fullest.

Rachel just baffles me, you know. And Marilla, too, isn’t quite faultless here. How can you be so accepting of one kind of POC, yet so cruel to another? Then I remember their initial reactions to meeting Bash. They were not the most accepting at first. Yet they can see how they’ve now grown to accept and care deeply about Bash and Mary and Delphine. Why can’t they give Ka’kwet’s people a chance like this?

‘You may well have saved some Indians today’... Saved them? From what? Being free to practice their own culture? You know, white people can be so very ignorant... and I say that as a very white person. I’m just ashamed of everything my ethnicity has done to literally every other ethnicity.

‘I don’t wanna die’... You know, sometimes I do, and right now that makes me feel so ashamed. I should really think of Mary and also every real person who had an untimely death whenever I’m having those thoughts again. We should all learn to appreciate life so much more.

So this is the one with Mary’s Easter... this is beautiful. I might have to rescind my ‘excitement’ statement from earlier, but there is still a theme of beauty, love and family throughout this. Well, technically throughout the entire series, but especially here. I love this. 

Delphine with a flower crown is the cutest thing ever...

Minnie May: She looks like a chocolate candy. I just... took notice of how the background music abruptly stopped. You know, coming from an older person, this would sound... not at all ok. But this 7-year-old didn’t mean any harm, and they realise it after a brief moment of panic in their eyes. Still... black people don’t call us, idk, butter or something. We should not compare their skin colour to chocolate.

Their singing is absolutely beautiful. But let’s be real - in a real-life situation, most of the people would be way off-key and those harmonies would be impossible to arrange. Still, for this beauty, I am willing to suspend my disbelief for miles. Also, that prayer at the end... well, I’m not Christian, but I am religious, and I know the power of a prayer as poetic as this one. However hard it must have been for Mary to know she wouldn’t live, it must have been a great consolation to know she would go in such a way, surrounded by so much beauty and love, and light. Well, that ending was bittersweet! But I absolutely loved this episode. Except for the racist parts that made me absolutely livid. It’s so frustrating to know there is still so much hate in the world based just on minor superficial differences between people. Yet it would have been even more frustrating if we didn’t have people in the world like our protagonists (and especially the protagonist, Anne). It is such an absolute shame that this show, and others like it, got cancelled over some trivial issues and wasn’t given the proper chance to develop its positive messages even further. But still, even with just the 27 episodes it was given, it was able to cover so much ground. I don’t know what to say. AWAE is just supreme.

Let’s sum up: the final weeks of Mary’s life; racial prejudice might have just cost this lovely woman, a wife and a mother, her life; Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables is the sweetest thing; the first press-printed issue of The Avonlea Gazette, with a significant typo; and thus, a ship was born; subtle ways of saying those three little words; ‘Caring deeply will always be the right thing.’; the legacy of a mother; ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality is alive and dangerous; double standards regarding the acceptance of POC; Mary’s Easter; going surrounded by a loving community.

[httpteddybear]

Cherry | Harry Styles

SUMMARY; After Harry gets his heart broken once again, he swears off love, until Y/n and her dog bring him a delicious gift and their friendship along with it.

WARNING(S); Cursing, disgustingly adorable fluff, a v cute cameo from my real dog Peachy!! (send her some kisses), slow burn, angst if you squint

WORD COUNT; 7.8k

AUTHORS NOTE; Hey, this is for @tiostyles Fine Line challenge, give her a follow! Also, this is my first time publishing my writing so I’m so so sorry if it’s terrible. Forgive me if it's written badly. I wrote this on Tumblr so sorry if it looks funny or anything. Also pls give all the love to my dog peachy she loves attention. (thanks to @lostincalum​ @h0tsos​ for reading a bit of this) Happy Reading!!

“I don’t know what to say to you except I’m sorry.”

Harry was everything but okay. He’d just found out that the girl he had pined over for months obviously didn’t feel the same. Now Harry was a smart man. He knew the ins and outs of his career and who he should and shouldn’t let into his life, which is why he was so baffled that he’d chosen the wrong person to let into his heart. She’d met Gemma and Anne, even a few of his cousins, and they’d all loved her. It was quite heart wrenching because even though she’d just told him the number one thing that would end a relationship, he still loved her.

“J-Just don’t call him baby, okay?”

—

It’d been almost two months since he’d seen Camille and his life wasn’t really alright. He wasn’t fully over her, she was incorporated into his daily life. His clothes, his thoughts, his eating habits, his favourite tv shows, everything. Somehow everyone found out within a matter of days what had happened, so he got an earful from Jeff. Then he got the sympathy from his family.

The only thing worse than both of those was the pity. When he went to get coffee the barista said she “hoped he was okay.” While giving him his coffee, and then Harry had seen a group of fans and the first thing that was said to him was “you poor baby.” That had set him off. Because even though it was tough, he was not a baby. He could do his own laundry and make his own food. He was not dependent on Camille for any of that, it was just nice to have someone by his side in a non-platonic way. Don’t get him wrong, he still put on a smile as they belittled him a bit. It was what he did.

So currently Harry was sitting on his couch, watching Disney movies. He felt more comfortable in his London home than the one in L.A. so he gathered his essentials and hopped on a plane. He was in a big knit sweater and some sweats. He felt content as ever. He had sort of swore off love when the Camille situation happened, so this feeling of contentment was nice. Inside his home he didn’t really have to worry about prying eyes or people judging him, so wrapped in large clothes looking very small was okay. It was okay outside of home too, but he always had a knack for looking somewhat presentable. He liked to be pretty. As did everyone but it made Harry feel like he was on top of the world. If he had the courage to wear a dress he damn sure would.

As Harry was finishing up he’d decided it was time for a cat nap. So that’s what he did. He didn’t bother to take off his clothes, just lazily pulling himself up the stairs and into his room before crashing down on his bed, pulling the duvet over his feet and up to his neck before rolling to his right side. He’d always been a side sleeper. From what his mom said, at least.

—

“Peachy! Who’s my good girl? Who’s my best girl?”

Somehow peach had found the other shoe Y/n was looking for, and that warranted some love. Y/n smiled as the Samoyed licked her happily. They were about to go on a walk to explore the new neighborhood. Y/n had judged moved into an adorable two-bedroom, one-bath, yellow house. Y/n was the epitome of someone you’d find living in that type of house. With her vanilla perfume, big fluffy Samoyed dog, and overall happy personality, the homeowner thought she was the perfect candidate to rent to.

Going on her way, Y/n decided she’d take a walk somewhere she hasn’t driven through, her best option was essentially a rich community, but she didn’t care. Her dirty shoes hit the pavement alongside Peach, watching as her dog sniffed everything in sight. Turning the corner, she found the cutest little bakery, and her excitement showed. Walking up to the brick building, she’d immediately seen the sign in bold. “NO DOGS.” Frowning, Y/n looked around. She started to walk to the pole she was going to tie peach too, but then she heard squeals.

“Mommy! Doggie!”

It didn’t bother her, so she rerouted.

“Hi miss, is it okay if my dog loves on your little munchkin? She’s very sweet and I’ve heard your child’s excitement.”

The mother smiled at how kind the girl was before nodding. Y/n brought peach over, and she was overjoyed to see the tiny child immediately clutching on.

After a few moments of her chatting with the mother, her stomach decided to make itself know. So she politely excused herself cursing at her stomach for ruining an adorable moment. Tying peach to the grey pole, she trotted inside the bakery. It was mostly empty minus the couple sharing a moment by the window and the assumed college student typing away.

“Hi, welcome to Wall Street Bakery! What can I get you?”

Y/n had to scan over the menu, they had everything from cackle to scones, so it was a difficult choice. But she’d finally agreed on a cup of whipped cream, for peach, and a half a dozen cupcakes. She didn’t know what she’d do with the extra, but she’d figure it out. Pulling nineteen pounds from her purse, she told the girl to keep the change, and she was on her way.

Peach had, as expected, ate all the whipped cream from the medium size cup. Y/n had a single cupcake before she was stuffed, in her defense, she had four slices of pizza, so this was just a tiny snack for her. She didn’t know why she ordered six, but she knew she’d find something to do with the remaining. She and peach started to walk again, taking all kinds of turns and twists, but not enough to lose their tracking. Suddenly Y/n came to a beautiful White House. It looked elegant, so she stopped to admire.

In her mind it wasn’t really creepy, she was just admiring the luxury. The more she looked the clearer everything became. Including the figure in the window of the second story. He sat idle, maybe reading or listening to music, she couldn’t quite tell. He looked dainty, fragile even. So Y/n knew where the five cupcakes would go. She swiftly pulled out a sticky note and a pen and got to work.

‘Hopefully, this sweetens up your day!’

-Y/n :)

—

Harry was listening to music. Mainly Stevie Nicks if we’re honest. He’d decided that today was going to be a relaxing day, which means that going to the studio was out of the agenda. Jeff was okay with it, stating that he had to have a meeting with someone else anyway. So Harry had a fully free relax day. So social media, television, and laziness were his full schedule. Harry had almost gotten caught up with his timeline then his stomach rumbled. He got up, going downstairs. He walked through the living room, still hearing Disney Channel from the tv. Finally getting to the kitchen, he started looking.

Now, after countless walk between the cabinets and the fridge, Harry just gave up. He decided to be a tiny bit productive by getting the mail. Harry slipped his feet in the weirdly angled slippers by the door and walked outside. Harry looked like a proper dad right now, clad in pajama sweat pants, a robe with no shirt under, and fuzzy slippers. As soon as he got outside he saw a pastel pink box with a yellow sticky note on it. Harry wasn’t crazy, but maybe this was something from Camille. Maybe a box of his favourite red velvet cupcakes that her mom made, or maybe a truce. He tried not to get his hopes up. He also wasn’t stupid. So there was no way he was opening that box inside. Just in case.

So, carefully, he grabbed the sticky note from on top of the box. His eyes scanned the letters as a small smile came to his face. Whoever this was, seemed nice and trustworthy, from what he could gather from the tiny paper. So he opened the box, just having to take the small piece of tape that was on the box. Inside we’re a mix of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, and while it wasn’t red velvet, they looked pretty promising. Again, Harry didn’t know this stranger, and he was a bit of a skeptic when it came to random gifts on his doorstep. But for an unknown reason, he felt inclined to just trust his gut. He was getting far too hangry to worry about death.

He picked up a chocolate cupcake and bit off about half in one bite. Trust and believe that he moaned at the taste. When you deprive yourself of sweets for a healthy diet, a bite into any kind of sweet felt like you were on acid in cake land. So Harry forgot all about the mail and swiftly took the box inside, kicking the door closed with his foot. Now he was almost one hundred percent sure that his whole day would be filled with the sweet-savory taste of these cupcakes.

Harry was very grateful for y/n the cupcake giver, whoever they may be.

-

Y/n felt like she was doing well in life, not astronomically good, but well. She didn’t have any major issues, she was generally acceptable by society. Well, her generation society, cause, of course, some piercing, tattoos, weight, and anything seemly not normal to grandmas around the world was a sin. She got okay grades in school and had a nice job. She had enough money for a tiny yellow house, a dog, and of course herself, so in her mind, she was doing more than good. but for some reason, not having a significant other was the biggest problem for anyone who found out. Y/n had boyfriends, girlfriends, flings, she dabbled in just about anything she felt, but for the past three years, getting her and her pet a life was the most important thing at the time. Now, y/n wasn’t opposed to having someone around. Maybe the cute girl at the coffee shop, her curly hair, dark skin contrasting against striking blue eyes, and pearly white smile was enough to give y/n butterflies as she finished her scone that day. Or the cute boy in the window, there was just something about him. Y/n liked him enough to give him five beautiful delicious cupcakes, so that should say something.

Pop culture was something that y/n was very interested in. Every now and then she’d find herself drooling over Calum Hood on her feed or staring at a paused shot of Zendaya in Euphoria for twenty-three minutes. She loved seeing people grow and she could even say that she was a fan. In fact, if you showed her the music video for Best Song Ever, she’d probably burst in your face with “Niall, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, and Zayn pirouette and Louis do the splits, and Liam you stay exactly where you are because you are PERFECT,”

Y/n loved things like that, it was amazing to see people get credit when they deserve it. Sure she was heartbroken when My Chemical Romance broke up, maybe she cried for two hours when One Direction broke up, but she got over it. She could proudly listen to Welcome to the Black Parade without crying and she even kept up with Niall and Harry, not like she used to, but she tried to like a picture every now and then. Y/n was a go with the flow kind of girl, she moved on from things quickly and saw the good in things. which is why she was very confused seeing #camillerowecancelled all over her timeline. it was hard to not click on it, but y/n was having a good day and she did not need to indulge in things like that, she left that behind when she deleted Wattpad in 2014.

“Ma’am?”

Y/n nearly forgot that she was at a pet store, social media does that.

“Oh! Yes, hi. I was just looking to see if you guys had any Huskies or Pitbulls?”

Y/n was on a mission to get Peach a friend. She felt bad that the 6-month-old puppy had to be all alone while she was at work, so the only option was getting another dog to keep her company. Peach got on well with just about every dog, so it wasn’t a life-changing decision, she just had to find a dog that Peachy would get on well with. 

The worker showed her and Peach to the dog area and just left, for that she was thankful. She had always talked to Peach and she intended to ask her about the dogs she got excited about but she was sure the worker would’ve thought she was crazy. So she walked around a bit, looking at dogs and talking to Peach. Then, she nearly dropped her phone. She ran to the glass swiftly, looking at the tiny pup. It was a Husky-Chow Chow mix, and she knew she already loved her, she had no name yet either. Peach saw y/n get excited and started wagging her tail. soon enough, a puppy was on in front of her and peach couldn’t be happier to see the mini bear-like dog.

“She’s only about eight weeks old, and a lot of work, are you sure?”

Y/n couldn’t believe the audacity of the question. Of course, she wanted a tiny bear scampering around, going on adventures with her and peach. So she signed about thirty papers as quick as she could. She came to the name paper and the question hung in the air. What did she want to name the tiny bear? With Peach, she got a few days to be creative, and the samoyed was just peachy, so she named her Peach. Y/n searched her brain for names until she couldn’t think anymore. Then she squealed. She does that a lot.

Now, Y/n was on her way home, little Pipkin in her lap,  peach sat in the passenger seat as she jammed out to Lana Del Rey. Pip seemed to be having the time of her life, happy to be out of the confined cage. Y/n was, as you’d say, living her best life. She really didn’t have a care in the world. No one could really blame her. Y/n was pretty sure she just scored the cutest dog in all of London.

“Summertime and the living’s easy!”:

Y/n made it home in record time, she's pretty sure she was speeding, but Peach seemed very excited so she wanted them to be able to interact. She put Pip’s tiny leash and harness on, which was proved to be useless. Pip just kept tangling herself in Y/n’s legs and nearly got trampled by Peach. So, Pip got off scot-free just being carried. Peach was sniffing the tiny animal as soon as Y/n stepped in the door.

“Peachy, hold on I promise I’ll put her down in a sec.”

After getting settled, Y/n carefully set Pipkin on the ground, going to the couch to watch the two dogs interact. Peach sniffed Pipkin and vice versa, both faces have been in the butt of the other in addition to their own. They ran around the house for a bit, then the yard. They ate together for the first time, Peach even tried to share her food. They got on well, just like Y/n had predicted, so she decided it was time for a group walk. Y/n put a pastel hoodie over her tiny black camisole crop-top and exchanged her slides for converse, then they were out the door.

Pip seemed to walk better with Peach as Y/n helped guide. She went the same way as yesterday, finding she liked the scenic route even if it was longer. She walked passed the coffee shop, even smiling at the cute curly-haired girl. She passed the bakery this time, she wasn’t feeling sweets today. She walked quite a bit, even taking a few selfies of all three of them. Y/n was excited. She and Peach had a new companion. It might also be the rush of the fact that she's pretty sure the cute window boy is out in his lawn. She tried to keep cool, even almost went to the other side of the street but peach wasn’t gonna let that happen. It seems already Pip has become a rebel because she stayed with Peach. Y/n trained them, but they weren’t like Army dogs, so she let them practically pull her until two houses before his. She fixed herself up a bit, checking that her posture didn’t resemble the hunchback of Notre Dame. 

She got closer and she could already feel the butterflies swirling in her tummy. Peach and Pip must’ve felt it too, because closer they got, the closer to Y/n the dogs got. Especially Pip, but I’m sure its just cause she’s very tiny compared to the man, his hand could probably fit Pip in its palm. Y/n contemplated talking to him, which she did until she was nearly up in his face. When she saw him clearly, oh boy. Butterflies were an understatement. it was like a swarm of fuzzy bumblebees was tickling every part of her tummy. Y/n can definitely confirm that curly hair and bright eyes were essentially her type as of now.

“The boy from the window!”

If Y/n wanted to die before it was nothing compared to now. she literally wanted London to swallow her and her dogs until they were in the middle of nowhere with no proof of their existence. Pip and Peach weren’t bothered, sitting idle in the sun. The gate blocked out a bit of Y/n’s beet-red face, not as much as she would have wished.

-

Harry had decided to go outside. It was a pretty nice day for London, the sun was even out. So after copious amounts of sunscreen, some more presentable clothing, just in case of a fan, and some slides, he was on his way to his larger than the normal front yard. He planned on being out for a bit, so he brought snacks and drinks too. His mother taught him the habit. She always had some sort of snack in her purse and she almost always had those mini water bottles.

He lived in a pretty secluded part of London, but he still wanted to be prepared if a fan came up to him. Harry didn’t want to sound like an ass but more often than not, he didn’t want to take pictures. He was all for living in the moment. After always having a camera on you for about six years, you’d get sick of it too. It's not that he didn’t like meeting fans, he loved it. They made him who he was, but almost every one of them wanted a picture to document that they met him. It's albeit sad, the fact that if you just said that you met him, everyone would ask for proof. Trust does get a bit tainted from fame. 

Harry was almost ready to go inside, he was near sunburnt, and if he didn't get inside his mom would scold him. Now some people might think that he's an adult and that he doesn't need to listen to her. Harry thinks different. His mom is such a kind soul but if you make her mad enough to scold you, oh she’ll scold you. Harry didn't like the feel of the cold aloe vera either. He’d kept it in the fridge, it was mean to cool you down and soothe you, but that's maybe a five minute cool. His had been in the fridge for about two months. Then, he saw a fluffy cloud walking alongside a very tiny bear, so he stayed. Even to just get a closer glance at the dogs.

Now imagine this, you’re on your lawn, waiting for two dogs to pass by, but they stop at your gate. You’re curious and, in this case, you think it might be a fan. what would be the face you made if the first thing that person said was,

“The boy from the window!”

It took him a minute to even process the words the girl just spoke, he was on autopilot walking to his gate and unlocking it. He went up to the girl, she looked sweet, she was very pretty and looked like she could model but also like she had just run three miles, her face was very red. Harry didn’t mention it. Instead, he said,

“Pardon?”

He couldn’t tell who was redder. that was an idiot thing to say, he could see it now if this angel really was famous, the headlines would probably be at his neck, making jokes about how he had shit pickup lines, but he did. That probably warranted cheating in his mind.

-

Y/n couldn’t believe she was about to explain that she was being a creep but she didn’t know what else to say, she couldn’t just let the silence sit but holy shit, she was talking to Harry Styles. Her stomach said barf on his feet but her mind said to play it cool, she chooses the latter.

“I, uh, yesterday, I saw you sat in the window, and you looked a bit sad, at least from where I was standing, so I left five cupcakes at your doorstep. I’m Y/n.”

Y/n saw his face shift, but his eyes showed immediate confusion. 

“How’d you get through the gate?”

Way to go y/n, you trespassed. You finally meet a boy, well, see a boy, and you fuck it up by trespassing? yay.

“I- It was actually open a bit and you looked sad. Listen, I'm sorry but please don't send me to jail. Pip and Peachy need me to feed them and I need my tiny house I beg you just like punch me instead I sw-”

Y/n couldn’t help herself. From her perspective she made a damn good case, cause no one could take the person who has two dogs to jail, Well, they could, but morally? yeah right bitch.

“Hey, don’t worry, yeah? just let me pet your dogs and we’ll call a truce.”

Y/n didn’t think this could get any better. She met Harry Styles, and he likes her dogs. Not gonna lie, Y/n thought he was a cat person, sure he could be a ray of sunshine, but he had major resting ‘step a centimeter too close to me and I’ll kill you’ face. Her need to scream right now was a ten on a scale of one to nine. Sure she kept her composure and would until she got comfortable, but if she was alone, she’d break a glass. One Direction among, various other artists, shaped her taste in music all through high school. She listened to No Control pretty much every day of freshman year, it was on her morning playlist.

Y/n zoned out, caught up in her thoughts, but when she did come back from the wave of nostalgia, she saw possibly a once in a lifetime moment. Her dogs, snuggled up into harry, as he sat there in all his handsome glory.

“I completely forgot to introduce m’self. I’m Harry.”

he held a kind smile, it didn’t fully reach his eyes, but it was genuine.

“I know who you are, congratulations on the new song, by the way.”

He didn’t miss a beat before asking,

“Would you like a picture?”

Y/n honestly didn’t know what to do. Would saying no be too rude? ‘Cause she did not have the energy to pull out her phone. 

“Oh, no thanks, actually.”

He seemed, almost relived? It was confusing. Y/n didn’t meet celebrities on the regular, but she was almost one hundred percent sure that he would have thought she was rude. 

After talking and letting Harry pet her dogs a bit more, she, unfortunately, had to go. She let him know, they exchanged hugs, and she said a sorrowful goodbye to Harry. It was weird, sometimes she forgot that people she looked up too were just like her at some point. maybe playing with a Tamagotchi or beating one of their friends at BopIt. It truly was a ‘rags to riches’ story for so many famous people.

Y/n finally got home, after taking a few pit stops, letting Peach and Pip do what they needed to do. She was relieved to see her tiny yellow house, it held a lot of character for one, Y/n even went as far as naming it Lanana. It was a dumb combination of lemon and banana, re; her house colour. Second, her feet were pretty much throbbing. Pip was acting like she was dying from walking and Peach immediately lied on the floor. Y/n also found the rug to be pretty comfortable as she lied on it, staring at her surroundings.

Her cacti seemed to be doing well, probably cause it was fake. It seemed fairly clean, so she didn’t have to worry about that tomorrow. her tapestry of corgis seemed to have come down on one side, but other than that her walls looked genuinely okay, she has yet to put a hole in them. and her books on the coffee table were still unmoved. Y/n didn’t really read them, but who has books on their coffee table that they actually read? The ceiling was pretty bland though, maybe she’d buy something to put on it. 

Y/n rolled over and pulled out her phone. her eyes were probably going to hurt later. Whenever she started scrolling, it didn’t matter which app, she had trouble stopping. But she’d get up eventually, if not, Peach would probably maul her if she didn’t get her peanut butter covered meds. Y/n debated going on twitter, but she didn't really want to see anything on there, opting for Instagram, she got into a comfortable position and started scrolling.

-

Harry was very, very frustrated. He had gotten a sunburn and that scold from his mom. Anne went on for about fifteen minutes about how he’d get skin cancer and how he’ll feel like leather by the time he’s fifty. She had good intentions, but Harry had thin patients. He did keep it under wraps, he had too. It’d be a whole other scolding if he got snappy with his mum. He actually talked to her for ten minutes, more or less, about what was going on in his life and etcetera before his mum called it a night.

He kept thinking about you, well you and your dogs. Sure human interaction was appealing, puppy interaction was essential. Had you been anyone else, excluding his mum and a few friends, Harry would have called security. He just chose to trust his gut and the dogs that you were with.

It was a rare feeling that harry got around dogs. Not like the love you give your significant other, it was less intimate. More like the love you give a child or someone you love very much. Harry almost considered getting a dog. Big or small the creatures were loyal, always waiting for you to get home and following you through the house. They were very reliable and dependant on their owners. Harry thought that was something he needed. Someone to depend on him, keep him grounded and let him know he was wanted. He had wanted a dog up until he realized that he was too busy. He was always busy now. Getting ready to release a new album, having to give his all for it to be what he imagined. He barely had time to himself, a pet would be too much to handle.

Had Harry realized a singing career would jeopardize his opportunity to get a dog, he would have never auditioned in the first place. Harry always had a love for animals. Now, when you hear that you take into account people's fears, with Harry, you didn’t have to. By the age of three, he was trotting up to garden snakes, helping to untangle them from whatever twig they were stuck in. He helped spiders outside and whatever you can think of that someone would fear, he’d do it. Not because he was brave, because if you told him to try and run over a tiny stream in-between the grass, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you no and throw a fit. Harry was just gentle, in a lot of aspects. 

He was gentle when he broke up with people, he was gentle when his bunny was getting ready to pass away, he was gentle when his sister was stressed looking for colleges, he was just gentle. which came with a lot of selflessness. Everything was Harry’s fault, in the sense that he blamed himself for a lot of things. He still blamed himself for Camille. Her falling out of love wasn’t his fault, she made that clear, but he couldn’t help but nitpick his flaws. The was he sometimes zoned out while she talked, or when he had a meeting but she had an off day, he felt terrible leaving Camille alone.  Harry was off.

He wasn’t broken, he felt okay, there was no metaphorical hole in his heart. Harry was fine. Except for when he wasn’t. The nights of alcohol and screaming led to nothingness. No more screaming, no more soft cuddles in the early hours. Harry was indifferent about it.  On the one hand, he was glad. He had calm peaceful nights and his liquor cabinet was almost always full again. On the other hand, his bed felt awfully empty. He still slept on his side, it felt like she was still lingering. Even with the million times, he washed the sheets, she still felt like she was right there.

Harry hoped he’d get over her.

-

Y/n was running detrimentally late. She’d gotten the best job interview and guess what? She got up an hour too late. By the eighth time she snoozed, she realized she had to be up. So she did some shitty ‘natural’ makeup, threw on a blazer, a cami under it, and the matching pants. She still looked bomb, Y/n would never doubt that. Especially when her confidence needed to be high. So now that Y/n was pulling up to get coffee, she’d regretted getting up so late.

The drive-thru was packed, everyone getting their own coffee. Y/n opted to go inside, coffee was like her push to get through the day and a Trenta should be enough to keep her somewhat lively. She still had to wait in a line inside, but this one was shorter. She tapped her thigh and scrolled through Instagram until she was at the counter. The barista was cute, having cool dyed hair was something Y/n gravitated towards, she could never get her hair a crazy colour, having to work serious jobs all the time. She always had to stick to somewhat natural. She’d rebelled at some point in middle school with bright, neon red hair. Then she’d stuck to natural colours, neon didn't look that good on her.

–

She picked up her coffee, taking a sip before starting her journey to her car. Well, she was, then the universe decided she needed a cute cliche.

“Oh! shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even looking an-”

–

“and I just bumped into you, I’m sorry oh god.”

Harry recognized Y/n, and he wanted to say hi. Apparently, his version of hi was coffee spilled all over her shirt. He didn’t mean to, but the profuse apologizing was kind of cute.

“It’s fine love, saw you ‘nd thought I’d say hello.”

Harry caught Y/n blush at that. Albeit she got flustered over the tiniest things. She was quite cute now that Harry wasn’t distracted by dogs. She had a very nice style, besides the fact that there was now a stain on her camisole. She nearly matched the cafe chairs with her pants and blazer. It was cute.

She was cute.

–

To say Y/n was shocked was an understatement. For once a cute guy wanted to talk to her and she didn’t have to pine over him for months first. It was nearly a miracle. Y/n was a nice girl but confidence wasn’t always her strong suit. She couldn’t just talk to people, no no, she usually had to make an idiot of herself first. With the looming failure over her head and her heart racing, it made it very hard for Y/n to make new friends.

“Oh, for sure, uh I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.”

He held a finger up, signaling her to wait. He was discouraged she’d think he was weird and leave. But after coming back outside, a hand full of towelettes, he saw she was still there. Y/n took the damp fabric, wiping her blazer a bit, the only place the stain was visible was her blazer. Thank god for her camisole being black otherwise Harry would be able to tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sure she likes attention but not wearing a bra was solely hatred. Primarily Y/n had underwire bras, they were like hell around your boobs. So she opted out, it wasn’t like she expected to see Harry. He’d probably already noticed, it’d gotten considerably cold. He hadn’t said anything though, so there wasn’t much to dwell on.

Y/n patted herself down, thankfully getting most of the coffee stench out of her clothing. She’d forgotten all about why she was wearing a blazer or her interview. Y/n had her priorities all off, of course, Harry was more important than her interview, logically no, but Y/n wasn’t thinking with her head. Who would?

Harry was trying to decide whether or not he should ask for her number, was it too soon? What if he looked too desperate? The press would eat that up, he could already hear a tacky headline being typed. Y/n didn’t look like the type of girl that would care about that type of stuff. Desperate was surely socially constructed. Harry was obviously in too deep, who cared about any of that? he was gonna go for it.

Y/n was starting to see a difference in her blazer as the stain dried. Harry seemed spaced out, literally. He looked like he was on Mars. Harry looked like he was gonna say something, as he looked Y/n in the eyes for the first time.

She was gorgeous. Sure he’d dated models and beautiful women, but this was like home-brewed, authentic beauty. Her hair looked so soft, it was the type of hair that matched a lions mane, one he could imagine all over the pillow next to him. He liked Y/n, she was cute. After seeing her a few times Harry was almost drawn to her. She had an expensive personality. Not the kind of snobby, rich expensive, but rich with delicacies. She was kind to strangers she spoke to, and her dogs fit right with her, almost giving her a throne of cute, fluffy, kindness. The music in the coffee shop was heard outside, Harry swayed his body a bit to the beat.

“So, since we’ve run into each other a few times, I guess the universe thinks we’re soulmates.”

Harry didn’t need to rip off the bandaid, Y/n had just done it for him. Her smooth words flowed to him like silk, sure maybe Harry was getting a bit stalkerish, but it was all with good intention. If Y/n could be confident enough to say that and smile on, surely getting her number shouldn’t be that hard.

“So, ehm, I was wondering if I could ‘ve your number?”

Y/n was properly freaking out. Who wouldn’t? Harry looked at her with the most adorable gleaming eyes and just how could Y/n ever say no to that? He was her type but elevated. He had the bad boy vibe, but a heart of gold. Y/n liked to think of him as a milk dud oddly. But he and the mild dud alike had a hard, chocolate exterior, but sweet, chewy, caramel insides. He was ethereal. 

“Yes, yeah absolutely.”

-

It was now about a month after that. Harry and Y/n were going strong in the friend zone. Every time Harry asked Y/n out she was busy and vice-versa. Somehow the universe had gotten them together, but now it was like it vanished. All the work was now in their hands. It wasn’t as if having a date with one another was work, it wasn’t. Frankly, they really did enjoy each other's company, even through texts. But it was their literal work. 

Y/n couldn’t get a day off to save her life. Her boss was a bit of a dick. On top of it, most days off were spent graciously on the couch, feet propped up, and two dogs cuddling into her, all three intrigued by SpongeBob and Squidward arguing. Harry was in the middle of finishing up his album, so most of his time was spent at the studio. His days off were spent in L.A. It was rare that he was in London, sometimes he had to beg for a break. Thankfully he had jeff who sort of understood. So sure breaks were rare, but Harry spent so much time trying to work his hardest that he was keeping himself from it at this point. 

Harry had done enough waiting. Y/n seemed right up his alley. Her personality wasn’t too overbearing or too happy, she was a perfect state of nirvana. A calming aura came where ever she went and Harry could almost feel it through his screen. He and Y/n texted about anything. It could be a meme she sent him at three am, in turn, he’d laugh but tell her to get to bed. Or he’d send her minuscule things, like the stuff he sees in his everyday life that reminds him of her. Was Harry fully over his ex? No, but he’d get there. For you, Harry would at least try. Everyone had understood he was hurt but Anne pushed him to be happy for him, so that's what he was doing.

He’d texted Y/n about setting up a little get together, he didn’t want to call it a date, thinking maybe he’d scare her off. Y/n was persistent though, responding with ‘So it’s a date.’ It wasn't even a question, she’d just said it out in the open in hopes that Harry would be okay with it. He was. If Y/n could’ve seen his face when he read it she’d probably get a good laugh because as soon as he processed the text his lips curled up, bringing his mouth into a toothy smile. It felt nice to have someone paying attention to him again. He’d seen a few fans on his drive, waving as one cried, she immediately apologizing for being an ugly crier. There was something about finally getting a date and talking to the fans that put him in a fantastic mood. 

He was currently sitting in traffic, just coming back from seeing his mum. The surroundings were a bit bleak, all the houses were either White, Gray, or Black. Harry loved colour. He loved being able to express himself with pleasing ones that coordinate. Sure when he was little he’d throw on a raincoat but put shorts on, but having a stylist most of his life helped. His style was like a grandpa in a twenty-year-old’s body. Not that he cared, but it was a bit of an improvement from young British bloke who thinks he’s cool. Traffic started moving and Harry took his foot off the break, shifting gears to get moving. What was he doing? Well he, was on his way to get a particular bubbly nirvana girl. He and Y/n had planned the date about a week ago and agreed that they’d do something as soon as he got home. She insisted that he went home and relaxed, but Harry was stubborn, assuring her that he’d be fine. 

They had yet to plan where they were going, Y/n had talked about just going out and figuring it out when they ‘cross that lightbulb’ and he agreed. He neared the street that Y/n had given him and his mind was getting the best of him. Not every girl was the same but what if? There was always a possibility that it could happen again. Was his heart ready to risk it? Not fully, but one date couldn’t damage him that much. Harry always had a strong heart. When someone pushed him off the slide in primary school he’d said he fell. In Secondary school when his crush Rachel traded him for someone older, he’d let it go. He was strong and he could handle this. Y/n didn’t seem like she was like that.

He pulled up outside of her house, smiling at the bright colour. It was very her. Her windows were bright and open, he could see a small succulent on the ledge inside. She had a well-kept yard and the grass was as vibrant as ever. Considering it was London it could be hard to maintain a yard or even a garden, the weather was always temperamental. He heard the door open, watching as she stepped out from behind the white door. She looked beautiful, clad in some spandex shorts that fit her bottom nicely and a big sweater. It looked like a merch sweater of some sort. 

Y/n had a cute little bounce in her step, her hair bouncing a bit too. She and Harry had been on the best terms. They texted almost every day following him getting her number. She got to know him a bit better. She paid attention to a lot, she was an observer. The way he typed and formed sentences was very pleasing to the eye, at least he didn’t have terrible grammar. She reached the car, giving him a smile as she got in the car.

“How are y’love? Hair looks nice.”

Y/n smiled, attention to detail was always nice. They had also joked multiple times about her secretly being a lion cause she’d sent him a selfie after a particularly long day at work the day before. You could see the tangles and how frizzed it was. Harry thought it was adorable.

“Thanks, I’m good, at least it's brushed this time, right?”

He laughed. It was a nice sound.

“Any thought to where you’d like to go?”

Y/n hummed, thinking a bit.

“I was thinking ice cream, it’s rare that London has had this many sunny days, I’m wondering if we should be scared.”

They both laughed, agreeing on ice cream.

“Y’want the aux?” Harry offered.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Y/n hooked up her phone, going to Spotify and smiling as Hey Jude played through the speakers. She and Harry sang along ridiculously off-key and talked the entire drive to the tiny ice cream shop. Harry stopped the car and got out. So far, Y/n wasn’t bad. In fact, she was great. Her happiness radiated through the car, he bets it's hard to be in a bad mood around her. She’d opted for no makeup and Harry liked that. He loved girls with and without makeup but it was a gesture he appreciated, even if it wasn’t for him. 

Y/n looked up at the options, she didn’t particularly care for a lot of it, she didn’t want to eat something that had too much sweetness, she’d get a tummy ache. Harry had ordered Moose Track ice cream while Y/n ordered Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake. This was typically her go to unless she was sad, then she buried her sorrows in Cherry Garcia.

They didn't even sit down before they were chatting. Conversation flowed easily between them. They could go from talking about their day to talking about childhood. It was nice, there was no pressure to come up with a topic. If there was silence as they at it was comfortable, the ice cream shop wasn’t very full, it is on the outskirts of London, so they didn't have to worry about paparazzi. They talked about their favourite bands, people they looked up to, fashion choices, just about everything that came to mind. It was nice, Harry and Y/n singing to their heart's content to the Queen flowing through the shop, Y/n even getting up and using her spoon as a mic. Harry hadn’t felt this nice in a while.

“Then he turned and there was a garden snake and I’ve never heard a fifty-year-old man scream at a higher pitch than him.”

Y/n finished off her story, she and Harry had been laughing their asses off for about an hour, they’d been there for about two. 

“This is nice, love hanging out with you.”

Harry’s words held sentiment that made Y/n’s heart burst. 

“Same.”

Y/n replied, laughing as he made faces at her. This was easy. No pressure, nothing was forced, it was genuine first date bliss.

“Oops.”

Harry smirked as he took his spoon, putting a bit of chocolate on her nose,

“Harry.”

Y/n whined dragging out his name. He laughed, leaning forward. He kissed the ice cream off her nose watching as her cheeks tinted pink, it was adorable.

“You asked for it.”

next thing Harry knew there was ice cream on his nose now too, except she didn’t kiss it away, opting to take her finger and wipe it. bringing the finger to her mouth she laughed, making a face resembling the grinch as she licked her thumb. They didn’t want to leave, Harry would pay to have time freeze and keep this moment present forever. Sadly he couldn’t. They got up, going to the register.

“I’m paying.”

Y/n stated, dismissing Harry’s protests. 

Harry had dropped Y/n off, and there was no doubt he wanted to keep her around. He had his doubts but the small time that they had in the ice cream shop was phenomenal. Was Harry fully over his ex? No. But that was okay. He didn’t have to rush, he’d be just fine getting over her with Y/n’s help. He didn’t need a therapist or a new girlfriend, he needed someone to show him that he could have better. Y/n was better. As long as you two kept talking Harry was sure he’d be over it in no time.

y/n; so plans for our next date? ;)

[ineloqueent]

dialogue prompt? “don’t kiss me ‘cause if you do, i’ll kiss you back.”

this is long, and quite dramatic. oops.

gif by @imladrs , which i had to include because it’s absolutely beautiful.

⭒

1977

The room was full of strangers.

They called him a friend, when in reality they knew nothing about him.

They knew of his fame, sure, how he’d built his guitar from scratch and was in a band with three others, three others whom he had named equals in family to anyone who shared his blood.

But they knew nothing of him.

Not how his heart ached in its loneliness, not how he dreamt of belonging to another, because he could not imagine a purer form of love than that of sharing your entire world with another person, enthralled by them, indebted to their kindness though they never expected a repayment, someone to share one’s happiness with in its entirety, someone to promise him that he would make it through the darker hours of his life.

Somebody to love.

Oh, he loved, there was no doubt about that.

He loved so much that it hurt, and though he wasn’t always good at showing it, he would have died of grief had he lost any of his friends, or his mother or father. He had so much love to give, and no one to give it to. He longed to hold someone’s hand for the sake of holding their hand, to dedicate his touch to their skin and prove to them that they were loved, to show them how much brighter the world looked when they looked upon it with a fondness for life, a fondness for being alive, like gazing up at the moon and being in awe of its beauty, thinking of how lucky one was to see such a glow, even from so far away.

Brian had never in his life felt special. And he knew that it was a ridiculously self-deprecating thought, but he supposed he was simply never meant to feel special, because if everyone was special, then no one was special. He knew in his heart that no one would ever love him as much as he loved them. He knew he would never be special. But damn it all, he wanted to make someone feel special. If he could make someone happier, then he would be happier too; he would die happily in his accomplishment.

But there was no one to give his love. With each passing day he felt lonelier than ever before.

Until she walked into the room.

⭒

Much to your dismay, there was not a quiet corner to sneak off to at this party.

Every corner was occupied by lovers or friends, and though you had come here with a friend, you suddenly found yourself entirely friendless, surrounded by strangers and people you vaguely recognised but did not know well enough to strike up a conversation with.

You had never been a talent in the realm of small-talk, and you weren’t willing to start a career now.

The room was full of people, and yet you had never felt more alone in your life.

Deserted by the one person you knew, you sighed and fought the urge to sink to the floor in despair. She hadn’t meant to leave you, but she’d always been like that— self-assured and well-adapted— and was easily swept away by a tide of companions that might have repulsed you, if you had not known how kind she was, and how that kindness ebbed and flowed, and attracted every human in sight.

You had always been bluntly honest, and few people, very few people indeed, valued honesty to the degree where they did not mind a slight offense to their character if it was the truth. Even you understood, because you were honest, but struggled to deal with the honesty of others. Particularly when it involved romantic involvement.

In the past year alone, four people had confessed attraction to you, and you had broken down each time, crushed by the horror of having to hurt them and say that you did not feel the same way, as well as the sinking feeling of how perhaps you were incapable of loving anyone, for but the idealised versions of people that lived within your head.

But many years ago, there had been a person you had loved, though perhaps you had been too young at the time to understand what it was you were feeling.

Since you’d left the place where he existed, you’d turned bitter and cynical.

You chose your friends carefully, not out of haughtiness, but out of a fear of being hurt, of trusting the wrong people with the terrible fears of your heart— ones that would certainly make them love you less, if they loved you at all.

And yet. You idealised the memories of people to an extraordinary degree. Far too often.

The ones you trusted you hefted upon a shrine of goodwill, embracing them longer and more fiercely when they departed your company, never ceasing to speak of them to anyone who would listen, thinking of them every day. It wasn’t an obsessive habit, you told yourself. It was just like everything else.

It was a desperation to be loved.

To be loved despite your faults, despite your vices and your numerous, unyielding virtues, to be loved even in the face of everything that made you unlovable.

And so you idealised those who made you feel loved, even when they ignored your letters or shunned your sentimentalism, because you knew that deep down, they wanted to be loved as much as you, but simply deigned to have more shame than you.

But you’d been ashamed for too long.

Now, you would be ashamed no longer, and would live in the dreams of your head if that would make you happy, because you were tired of being unhappy. And you were as good as addicted to the version of life that you’d created inside of your mind.

More often than not, however, the idealism caused you no end to grief, when years later, you would reunite with someone and they would turn out to be so very unlike the person you had dreamed them to be.

But there was one person. One person who, every time you ran across him, unbidden but never unwelcome, renewed your faith in humanity, and in being loved. Because he always made you feel loved, important, special. It was like there was no end to the love he could give to you, through his smiles, and the way he held your hand, even though the two of you had never been anything more than friends, through his quiet laughter at the silliest of your musings.

You were never quiet around him, as you were with most people. In fact, when you were in his company you had absolutely no filter at all, because he was the least intimidating person you had ever met. He wasn’t intimidating, because he was honest. Like you.

But he was also endlessly kind and endlessly romantic— he lived his life by the light of the stars and the music that hummed beneath his words, as though he found everything beautiful in some way or another.

You were angry at the world. He was in love with it.

Better still, you had never idealised him to become that person. He just simply was.

And you would never see him again.

He’d always been in and out of your life, but this time, it was over. You were sure of it.

You’d known him since the two of you had been no more than five years old, and you’d been in the playground with your all-girl friend group.

Even from a young age, you’d spent much time occupied by your thoughts, and standing in the middle of the playground on that summer’s day, counting to a hundred in this game of hide and seek, you’d thought it odd that you’d ended up with only girls for friends, when your very first friend, at age one, had been a boy.

You had wondered then, opening your eyes to find that your giggling friends had all hidden away, whatever had happened to him. When you’d started a new school, you’d lost contact with him…. Jacob. Yes, that had been his name.

And at five, insecure in the onslaught of new culture that surrounded you, you’d been overwhelmed by the terrible thought of your name fading from someone’s memory.

You’d started to cry.

You hadn’t meant to close your eyes a second time, having finished counting and intending to go and find your friends, but it was an easier way to hide your tears from any teacher who might have wandered past and asked you what was wrong. But in closing your eyes, you had dimmed your senses, and were thus startled by a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

“What’s the matter?”

You’d opened your eyes to find a boy staring at you.

“I— I can’t find my friends,” you lied.

His smile was quick. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll help you. If you want..?”

Feeling strangely at ease in his presence, you’d nodded, unsure of yourself, but sure of the kindness he embodied. He took your hand into his own, and without a thought, kissed your cheek.

Baffled, you blinked.

He seemed to sense your startled reaction.

“It’s what my mum does whenever I’m sad,” he said. “She says it means she loves me, and that she’ll be there for me, no matter how lost I feel.” He shrugged. “You looked lost.”

And with that, he’d pulled you along at a jog, smiling a gap-toothed grin and going around the playground with you until you’d found each one of your friends.

Everyone had teased you from that day on, about how he was your boyfriend. They’d said it in such a sing-song way, though, and you couldn’t help but giggle at their remarks, to smile when he smiled at you and witness the oohs that chorused from the kindergartners around you.

So you’d let them tease you, and begun to call him your boyfriend.

He became one of your closest friends, taking you to the cinema on ‘dates’, paying for the tickets and the concessions with his own pocket money, the money he’d earned from whatever little chores he could pick up from his neighbours— weeding out the garden, walking dogs, polishing shoes.

He taught you how to play chess, how to swim faster than anyone else, and how to stand up for yourself, even when the people you had to stand up to were adults, ones who had proclaimed themselves older and wiser than your young, knobbly-kneed self.

You’d grown older, and when six years had passed, the remarks about him being your boyfriend had turned earnest. Your friends asked constantly whether you would ever kiss him, whether he’d asked to kiss you, and your parents joked about the two of you marrying one another when your ages eventually passed into the twenties.

But at the time, you were only eleven, still naïve and innocent of mind, and when you’d moved away, you’d thought next to nothing of your last day of seeing him, thought nothing when he hadn’t hugged you goodbye, because you were eleven, and hugging people was an intimacy reserved for family.

Over the years— once in every five, to be precise— you’d returned to your old home town to visit, and you and he had gotten on as well as you always had, though now he would hug you properly and tell you how tall and beautiful you’d grown in the time you’d been away. If he hadn’t always been so honest, you would have scorned him for lying to you, because you knew you were not beautiful, and he had always been taller than you.

So perhaps it was a fantasy to think that you should see him at this party tonight, in the city where it had all begun.

But still you hoped, because despite how your other friends had told you about his various new girlfriends over the years— real girlfriends, because you had been too young to ever be that to him— a part of you still dared to think that he could love you, as no one had ever loved you before.

⭒

She was here.

He walked with her in memories, had savoured her touch even when they’d been only eighteen, shivering, terrified beneath her fingers when they skimmed his arm, because he was afraid of acting upon his feelings, lest she rebuke him for crossing an unforgivable boundary— the boundary between friends and lovers.

It was a cliche, he knew, but his terror was real.

And seeing her now made him think he was dreaming, because she was standing alone, in precisely the manner that had characterised her solitude when they had been five.

Only this time she was not weeping. She had learned to stem her tears, as all children eventually must, and in her resolve, she was more beautiful than ever.

Anyone else might have found her eyes cruel, surveying the room as though the world was hers, and hers to judge, but he knew what she was doing.

She was doing what she had always done, compartmentalising and rationalising her fears until they withered beneath her incessant will to be stronger than that which scared her, and looking for a place to escape to, beneath the dim lighting and close-crowded bodies of the party.

If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have said she was looking for him.

But Brian was nothing if not honest, and so he quelled that train of thought before it was even fully formed.

Still.

It couldn’t hurt to say hello, could it? By some quick head-maths, he reckoned they were due for a reunion. It had, after all, been a good deal more than five years since he’d seen her last.

He downed the last of his drink, flexed his shaking hands, and began to carve a path through the crowd toward her.

⭒

“Y/N?”

Your heart had already been in your throat, but by god, surely it had ceased to beat at the sound of your name breathed from his mouth.

You turned around and your stopped heart nearly broke at the sight of him, standing there short of breath, tall as ever, those hazel eyes liquifying you completely with the earnesty of their gaze.

“Brian, hi.” You were as breathless as he, and when you stepped closer to him, you found that you were dizzy too, because you nearly toppled in your low-heels when he smiled.

“H-ey, watch yourself, love,” he gripped your hands before you fell, and you flashed him a grateful smile.

“Sorry,” you said, and, to your dismay, blushed.

He shook his head, gentle laughter bubbling up over his lips. “It’s okay,” he assured you.

You stared at him for a moment before the words fluttered from him like a net-full of butterflies, newly freed, only to choose their new home to be your stomach. “It’s so good to see you,” he gushed, and wrapped his arms around you.

Caught by surprise, your arms found residence around his neck, and when he leaned his head against yours, you breathed in the fresh-linen smell of his curls, the slight musk of his skin that was between vanilla and sage, impossibly both rain and perpetual sunshine.

“Why do we wait five years every time?” you wondered softly against the shell of his ear, like the honest person you were.

This was the most honest you’d been in years.

Because your honesty seemed to hurt others, and so you forewent honesty for honeyed lies, to spare them of the pain your words might otherwise have caused.

It was draining to lie all the time.

But you never had to lie with Brian, because where your honesty seemed to hurt others, it enamoured him. He told you so, as often as he had the chance.

“I honestly don’t know,” he whispered back, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

He pulled back at the sound and smiled again.

You suddenly couldn’t bear to spend another minute in this room full of strangers.

“Outside?” you said, and he nodded, taking you by the hand just as he had done all those years ago.

Outside, it was quiet and cold, and without a second thought, Brian had his arm around your shoulders, his warmth a welcome replacement to the coat you hadn’t thought to bring.

“So what brings you back home?” he asked as you sat down with him, by what appeared to be a garden pond. The water babbled with the presence of a small, adjourning stream, and the surface of the pool brimmed with blush-pink water lilies. The moon’s friendly light showed you as much.

And it showed you the marble-carved contours of Brian’s face, the bow of his pretty lips.

You licked your own, willing yourself to glance away, but finding the action utterly inviable.

“Oh, you know,” you began half-heartedly, “old friends to meet, new memories to be made.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Old friends?” he said. “And here I thought you were here to see me.”

He was joking, but his closeness abruptly dampened your skin with a nervous sweat. You wrinkled your nose and pushed his arm off of your shoulder before he noticed.

“Shut up, Brian. You know I mean you.”

Brian chuckled, carding long, elegant fingers through his tousled hair. “No, don’t worry. You don’t have to lie to me.”

You looked at him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

The air was pulled taut as a string when his eyes met yours.

“Never,” he responded quietly. He made no movement for but that of speaking. He did not blink, and you did not breathe.

“I always come back to you,” you said, and now that the words were flowing, you could not stop them. “Because no matter how many years pass, no matter how much other people change—” you had to take a breath before it physically killed you. But it was a sharp breath, and Brian hung on your every word, so when you inhaled, he gravitated toward you.

“You,” you whispered. “You never change.”

He let out a little sound, something like oh, like a realisation.

And you couldn’t keep yourself from your honesty any longer, because you leaned in to kiss him.

His thumb curved over your lower lip, depriving you of that final touch, the one which held you suspended before him, with no modesty left, no secrets, no shame, no nothing.

No end to the love which you carried in your heart for him, like a candle you had held shielded for years, cupping your hands around the flame, even if your fingers burned, because keeping that candle alight mattered more to you than the suffering of pain, more than anything in this world.

“Don’t kiss me.”

How easily three words could shatter a soul.

“Wh—”

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll kiss you back.”

You dared exhale, and his eyes fluttered shut when you kissed the pad of his thumb.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Brian’s eyes opened, as his thumb tugged softly on your lip again. It was difficult to keep quiet when he touched you like that.

“Then despite our proclaimed honesty,” he said, “you’ve lied to me every day of your life.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Brian. You just haven’t let yourself hear what I’ve been telling you.”

His eyes widened, and you were staring into a hazel-ringed abyss, a black hole super-positioned over dying nebulae.

Brian’s thumb slipped from your lip, and he replaced its pressure with his mouth.

Exhilaration surged through you and wound itself around your heart, turned your brain to nothingness as his kiss turned you to treacle, thoughts abandoned in favour of returning the tenderness of his touch.

It felt like he’d waited forever to kiss you, from the way he cradled you in his arms. And you felt suddenly desperate that he should never let you go, that he should stay this way forever, with the curve of his hips melded against yours, the press of his chest and the fold of his hands keeping you closer to him than you could ever have hoped to be, a breathless whine escaping his perfect mouth as he kissed you deeper, more desperately, as desperate as you felt. You were his equal in your want, in your need, and the understanding between the two of you set you free, because never had you felt such an easy, mutual understanding as this. It was the simplicity of his kiss that killed you a little— how plain he was in his emotions, how willing he was to show them to you. He had the same honesty as you, even if it manifested in a different way— a better, more loving way— because he understood how truth grounded you, and in revealing to you his affections, without the intent to play games or string you along, he understood you as well.

He was quick to love and slow to judge, and though his movements were languid, his kiss was not, dissolving you like sugar beneath his lips, wet from your tongue or his— it was difficult to tell. His senses were yours, his desire a divinity when you needed his touch as hopelessly as he needed yours, and you craved for the world to always hold him this close to you.

When he brought your lower lip between his teeth, you allowed yourself to shudder, and he smiled, pressing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Why did we wait so long with being honest?” he murmured.

You laughed in response, winding your arms around his slim waist and kissing his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair, and you nestled further into his hold.

“Never again,” you said.

He repeated the words in his lilting voice, and combed his fingers through your hair— lingeringly, lovingly.

And in the cold and the dark, you knew he would continue to be honest with you forever, because Brian was unlike anyone you’d ever met before.

Brian was special.

[ladyy-grimm]

~Corvid Bride~

Dire Crowley x F reader

*In inspiration of the Ghost Marriage event - as well as watching one too many dramas - I present whatever AU this is.

“I’m sorry dear, I’m so, so sorry...” Is the only words your mother gave you. Her voice strained and hoarse.

The day, which was as gloomy as a funeral - was your wedding day.

The hushed murmurs of your friends and neighbors were your accompaniment, instead of celebratory music as you made your way towards a lone black carriage.

“So, she’s to be the bride?”

“Poor thing, she’s so young...”

“Thers’s nothing that can be done...If we don’t offer someone then, then we will starve. All of us..”

“We have to calm him...”

By whatever good grace yet remained in the world did you find yourself in the carriage with what remained of your closest friends. One of them adjusting your white veil, giving you the pitiful excuse of remaining hidden for your “groom”. They couldn’t bring themselves to look at you, not with what awaited you at the end of the carriage ride.

“Please don’t hate us.” One of them finally dared to speak. Yet somehow it made the small space quieter as they spoke. “We didn’t want this to happen...None of us. But, I’m glad you are going.”

“We’re very grateful to you.” Another spoke up.

“We can now all live because of you.”

You wanted to scream.

How dare they. How dare they try and make you feel better. They were just glad it was you and not them. That it was not their daughter. It wasn’t their fault you were unlucky, there needed to be a sacrifice anyway. It may have been an old fairytale, but they didn’t care so long as the crops and animals were blessed back to what they once were. As long as it wasn’t them, it didn’t matter.

Despite all that, your lips remained shut. As you arrived at your destination did you remember as to why you should remain so. The wind was still, despite being so high up into the mountains. The horses nervously whinnied behind you, your heels crunching under the stone as you made your way towards the cliffs end. Your bridesmaids giving you a wide berth as you made your way towards a large iron birdcage, alongside an old iron crank.

There were no final goodbyes nor tears as you made your way inside. Your veil and gown semi spilling out as you were lowered to the blanket of fog below. The air grew colder, your breath began to appear as from above you could hear your wedding party scrambling to leave. Leave behind all memory and with time - all traces of you. In resignation did you sit down, not even a bubble of a sob surfaced to your throat.

What point would tears give you? It didn’t help Lettie; as she was torn away from her widowed mother and not given a chance to be a proper bride. Or how about Amilie whom had tried to run away with her lover, condemning them both.

‘At least they died together.’ You couldn’t help but muse. You? You had no one besides your family back home, if you could even call it that anymore. They were just as part of this as any other. Yet any hatred you wanted to direct was cut short as you shivered. The cold had begun to set in.

Halfhazardly you wrapped your wedding gown around you as best as you could, aiding you a little. The birdcage swinging back and forth at your movements, causing slight nausea to set in. Repeatedly like a prayer did you tell yourself not to look down, though even if you did not but fog would greet you. How you wish it had deigned to surround you as well, that way you wouldn’t have had to see the other birdcages littered around you. All human sized, rusted, frosted, some even broken while others still housed their “residents”.

You didn’t consider yourself fortunate in the least at seeing the skeletal remains. A corpse should be best left alone after all, at least that is what you wished for yourself.

Would you freeze to death first? Or maybe you would attempt one last daring escape and fall to your death? Which was quicker? Or perhaps, you would wait for him? Whatever it was your village gave offerings to for a plentiful harvest, that had suddenly decided to stop granting such a boon. Devil? Fae? It didn’t matter so long as there was food at the table and all was well.

But obviously, not anymore. Not for a long, long time now.

“Having fun? Thinking of your final moments?”

You would have fallen to your death had the bars of the cage not been small enough, as you jumped in shock at the sudden voice. Wildly did you look around, seeing no one - except of course for one lone crow at the opposite side of you. It cocked its head, curious at you as it sat between the bars.

“You haven’t lost your mind yet.” It stated as to what you were thinking, its beak curving into the hints of a grin.

“I wish I was.” You blurted in response, earning you a cawing of sudden laughter.

“Ooh, decided to give a clever one away did they? That’s a pity for the arts.” The crow continued to laugh.

The statement was enough for a small smile to tug at your lips, only a small one though as your mind had caught up to what was currently happening. “I’m sorry, you are -“

“Hmm? Wish to know my name? I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” Here the crow extended a wing, as if it were extending a hand.

Such an action caused your mind to reel. Memories of your grandmother teaching you the way of fairytales rushing to mind. The cold caused your voice - now laced with caution - to crack out your lie. “Y-You may call me Ainsel.”

The crow, appeared to grin more and his eyes to turn from a shiny black, like twin pebbles. To glowing moons. “Ah, you are indeed a clever one.”

With that there was suddenly a large puff of smoke, and there at the other end of your already small cage appeared a man. He was draped in a dark coat with a cut to resemble wings, and obscuring his face was a long beaked mask that only shown his glowing pupils. The birdcage was too small for him to stand fully, but he had no need to as with a flourish did he remove his top hat and bowed at his waist to you. His eyes glowing in delight as they looked towards you.

Instinctually, hurriedly did you try to stand. Only realizing that you had wrapped your wedding gown around you for warmth too tightly. This caused the man to laugh.

“‘Tis alright, I’d much rather have you remain sitting as to what we are to discuss little bird.” With that he knelt before you, being mindful of your gown and giving you plenty of room to breath. You did just meet after all. “Now, I’m sure you have already figured out who I am and what I do. So, let us cut the chase and have me ask you; What would you like to do now?”

“What?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Hmm? Did you simply think I just fly in here and gobble you ‘brides’ up?” He chuckled at his own dark humor. “I’m kind enough to give you brides a choice, when you were given none.”

His words gave you pause, so he continued. “You can choose to try and get back up towards the cliffs. Some have made it and have lived to see their childrens children. Others, falling to a death of their own will. Others, I will say have chosen to remain in this final resting place - whilst I - well, can’t refuse what whatever God has left before me now can I? Or if you prefer I could give your corpse to those animals as a ��blessing” if that is what you wish.”

The information given both baffled yet made complete sense. As was the won’t of the lands of Twisted Wonderland. With a jolt did you suddenly recoil back. He had outstretched a claw ringed hand towards you.

“I’d very much like to give you more time to ponder your choice but, it grows darker by the moment and colder as well.”

How right he was. Your teeth were now chattering without you realizing. It wasn’t much of a choice you had to admit, but it was a choice nonetheless. More than you had been given, and there was only one that you had in mind.

“Your name...” You mumbled, lips beginning to freeze.

He cocked his head to the side.

“I’d, I’d like to know my husbands name....”

He smiled, gently taking your hand in his as he drew you towards him. Weakly did you stumble into his embrace, your legs having become numb as the iron floor had frosted and your gown as well. Yet you had no need to walk a he opted to carry you as any bride wished to be. He was pleasantly warm, his overcoat framing even you a bit. As if it were a large pair of wings.

“Dire Crowley.”

You smiled, thinking of how your name matched with his. It had a nice ring to it.

~

In the days to come the people of your village would be back to the cliff side to check on you. They would find your almost empty birdcage, and be filled with fear immediately. The bars remained intact. Your corpse did not hang, nor had it been coated in frost or even be eaten by the wildlife that could reach you. Nay, all that remained was your bouquet as fresh as the day your mother had picked it.

Far, far away you would be found laughing happily alongside your husband. Eccentric and troublesome as he was, he had given you the choice that only ever mattered. That choice was to live, and having him at your side was a pleasant bonus.

[phroyd]

In the decades since the death of Frank Zappa, scores of film-makers had approached his wife and business partner Gail about making a documentary about the star. “They got an infinite amount of noes,” said their son Ahmet Zappa to the Guardian. “None of them had the right approach.”

That is, until actor and director Alex Winter made a different pitch. “I wasn’t interested in making a typical music documentary about some rock star guitar hero,” he said. “I was interested in who Frank Zappa was as a man and his relationship to his art and the world around him. What were his values and struggles? And I wanted to be honest about his contradictions, of which there were many.

“In Zappa-land,” he said, “everything is paradoxical.”

The resulting film, titled Zappa, presents a nuanced and authoritative portrait of an artist who may have spoken prodigiously to the media during his lifetime about his music and politics but who remained oddly aloof as a person. It helped immeasurably in forming a fuller portrait of the man that Gail Zappa not only gave Winter free access to the gigantic vault of his music and video work, but also spoke for the film in the months before she herself died in 2015 of lung cancer. (Frank died of prostate cancer 22 years before). When Gail started talking to Winter she knew she was sick. So he began filming even before he got financing for the project. Crucially, he also secured final cut of the film from the Zappa estate, which is run by the four children, with Ahmet at the helm. “We wanted this to be a warts-and-all portrait,” Ahmet Zappa said. “This was Alex’s point of view.”

But even with that access, it wasn’t easy for Winter to get to the heart of Zappa, a man who always conveyed a bulletproof confidence in his own vision and philosophy. “I was really interested in getting behind that mask,” Winter said.

To do so, he went back to the artist’s beginning, aided by footage of a young Zappa with his mother and father, to whom he bore a striking resemblance, as well as to old tapes of him talking about his childhood fascinations. A treasured toy for Frank growing up was a gas mask. His father worked at a company that manufactured poison materials during the second world war. Frank also became fascinated with chemicals, putting them to pointed use as a teenager. “I tried to set fire to the high school,” he said in vintage footage.

Zappa first became attracted to music after encountering a collection of work composed by Edgard Varèse that was described as “literally the most frightening, evil, vile thing a human being could listen to”, Zappa recalled.

“I couldn’t understand why people didn’t love it the minute they heard it,” he said.

Zappa became equally attracted to the grinding blues of Elmore James and Johnny “Guitar” Watson, but when he picked up a guitar and taught himself to play in emulation, his parents sternly discouraged him. Likewise, when he formed his first band, a racially mixed unit that slammed out hard R&B, the local California community viewed them “as a threat to decency”.

Undaunted, Zappa began making scores of recordings for himself and others, including a sketchy guy who wanted him to make a soundtrack for his stag party. The result, though utterly un-erotic, wound up getting the young musician busted by the vice squad who threw him in jail. “That really knocked him on his ass,” Winter said. “It woke him up to how much animosity there was towards someone like him, just for being him.”

At the same time, Zappa had the savvy to locate the right musicians to flesh out his aural aspirations. In 1965, he formed the first Mothers of Invention, a unit that didn’t sound or act like any other band of the time. Besides their unusual music, they mocked the emerging hippie movement, the trendy drug culture, as well as the larger art world around them. “Frank didn’t adhere to any movements,” Winter said.

He also didn’t interact with his band members in the usual way. “This wasn’t a bunch of guys who came together and made decisions equally,” Ahmet Zappa said. “Frank was the magician, and the band were his magical tool belt of people who could play the kind of music he was writing.”

Frank Zappa performing with the Mothers of Invention. Photograph: Cal Schenkel

According to those who played with him, Zappa was hardly the warmest of leaders. “I don’t ever remember him embracing anybody,” ex-Mother Bunk Gardner said in the film. According to Winter, “he could be a martinet. All of the musicians had varying degrees of resentment or unresolved issues with the way he just dispatched people after working with them. At the same time, they all looked at the period when they worked with him as the most fruitful of their artistic lives.”

Zappa could be equally chilly in his dealings with women. In the film, a friend of Gail’s recalls that, just after Frank met her, he told the friend “tell her if she wants to fuck, she’ll have to come over”.

But their marriage became a powerful, loving and enduring one, lasting for the rest of the musician’s life. There was, however, a caveat. Zappa carved out his own life within the framework of the marriage. “When Frank was on the road, he lived his life like a rock star,” Ahmet said. “He was a real cock-smith. When I asked my mother about it, I got this strange look.”

“People are human and it hurts, and she says so in the film,” Winter said. “There’s no doubt he was a sexist.”

Zappa had an unusual relationship with his children as well. On the one hand, they were “a primary source of his entertainment”, Ahmet said. “When he was with you, you had his entire attention.”

But, by dint of his obsession with work, he spent far more of his time on the road or recording music than with his family. He also spent lots of time of giving interviews for a practical reason. Zappa knew he was far more likely to get attention for his provocative quotes than for his music, which many found difficult, if not baffling. Even some who considered themselves fans of his didn’t understand Zappa’s intention, viewing him, reductively, as just an eccentric guitar God with freak appeal. In fact, said Winter, “Frank wasn’t a rock musician at all. He was just using different genres in the service of his work as an avant-garde composer.”

‘When Frank was on the road, he lived his life like a rock star.’ Photograph: Dan Carlson

Still, in order to turn that rarefied role into a sustained career, Zappa had to draw on another key part of his character – as a realist. While he had contempt for the way business can corrupt art, he became his own kind of businessman – and a surprisingly adept one, running a long-running indie label for his music and video work along with his wife. “He and Gail were operating their own mom and pop boutique,” Winter said. “They had to be incredibly clever and resourceful.”

In order to pull that off, Zappa also felt he had to be combative. In his view, it was him and his family against the world, a stance which exacerbated his public image as smug and condescending. Even the most rare and intimate footage in the documentary never catches Zappa conveying a whiff of conventional vulnerability. Still, Winter believes there was more openness to both the musician, and to his work, than it seems on the surface. “He’s not singing or talking about his pain the way John Lennon did,” the director said, “but Frank is still a very personal artist in the sense that he was always focused on chronicling his life experience. He was pouring out his soul in his own way.”

That often involved humor. “Frank used humor the way Spike Jones did - as an instrument to convey a kind of emotion and to unseat the audience,” Winter said.

Towards the end of his life, two important events took place which the film chronicles: first, Zappa’s trip to a just-liberated Czech Republic, where he was greeted like a messiah of free expression. Then there was his work with the classical group the Ensemble Modern, who came the closest to performing his music the way it lived in his mind.

In the years since his death, Zappa’s reputation in that community has only increased. “The part of the music world that dismissed Frank the most in his lifetime is now the one that takes him the most seriously,” Winter said. “Now, most of the classical world considers him one of the greatest 20th-century composers that America has produced. They did not think that when he was alive.”

Still, Winter doesn’t believe Zappa ever became bitter, either about the earlier reception to his work or about facing mortality at 53. “Towards the end of his life, he realized that people were beginning to get the substance of who he was as an artist,” he said. “And to him, on a deep level, that was very satisfying.”

Zappa will be released digitally in the US on 27 November with a UK date to be announced

Phroyd