#reason not to explore something but if u feel that way that’s totally fine as long as you’re respectful of the people who do want to do that

[a-nice-egg-offering]

Being childish about media that has controversial themes or pick and choosing which controversial themes to acknowledge just tells me you’re unintelligent and have bad taste ngl

[em-harlsnow]

i feel like people forget when they’re writing mickey that his issues with intimacy were not just internalised homophobia. obviously, internalised homophobia was a huge reason why he struggled with ian and coming to terms with loving him. but it’s not the only reason he was so scared of being close to him.

mandy and mickey are eerily similar people in my opinion. their abusive home means that both of them find the concept of someone caring about them unbelievable and ridiculous and fake because they never had care as kids. if mickey had no internalised homophobia, he would still probably not have kissed ian until season 3 in my opinion just from fear of intimacy and affection.

i don’t like when people seem to think internalised homophobia is the only thing going on. they act as if once mickey gets over that, or terry dies or something, that he’d just be totally fine with ian or a guy. i don’t think that’s true, because mandy clearly struggles with things like expressing emotions, people caring about her, people loving her (things u need in a relationship) and she doesn’t have any internalised homophobia (because she isn’t gay). I think mickey’s the same way.

In a way i think the struggles mickey has are slightly different because he’s a guy and men have the whole toxic masculinity ‘boys don’t cry’ issues, so i think mickey would probably struggle more with emotional connections and being open about feelings than Mandy (again, in a miracle world where internalised homophobia isn’t a thing). we even see that idea with how mandy tells lip she loves him much earlier than mickey.

i would be interested to see what mickey would be like without the internalised homophobia because he’d still have issues. He’s a victim of severe child abuse, he’s going to take more from that time than just ‘i hate myself because im gay’. i don’t like when people write him with that very narrow narrative, because there’s so much more stuff to explore in his character.

anyway, this was a huge ramble and i don’t know if it made much sense. i understand why people focus on the internalised homophobia, but in my opinion that’s not by any means the only thing he struggles with. i love fics that explore his issues beyond that.

[luxaofhesperides]

greener on the other side.

Danny makes a habit out of hopping into portals and exploring the places he ends up. It just so happens that this time, he ends up in Gotham right as the Signal begins his patrol. Duke meets the strangest, funniest, cutest guy on the roof of the Gotham City Public Library. He knows Batman would not approve of literally anything he's doing, but sue him, he wants a meta friend and this guy seems to be up for it. -- OR: how Duke and Danny get together despite having secret identities and living in different dimensions.

chapter three: how it shines - 8.6k

read the entire fic on ao3!

the final chapter of this fic... and the end to the first fic in the series!! theres a lot i say in the end notes of ao3 so i highly recommend reading this chapter there! . . .

Signal: you ever feel like maybe the world is out to get you

Signal: [attached photo shows Signal lying in the middle of a torn up road, post-fight, his helmet lightly blackened with ash.]

Danny: buddy, the world has already taken me out

Danny: [attached photo is a selfie of Danny, frowning at the camera. Behind him, a large, flying robot is pointing a rocket launcher at him.]

Signal: okay, you win. are you alright???

Danny: lol im fine. this literally happens every week i know how to beat this guy up

Danny: tbh i think the real threat to my existence is school

Signal: so true. one day we will be free of it….

Danny: but not today

Signal: but not today

-

Danny: got a minute?

Signal: yeah what’s up?

Danny: u have a secret identity

Signal: …yes?

Danny: have u told other people abt ur secret identity

Signal: yes? but some of them just kinda found out on their own

Signal: why? 

Danny: how did that go. did they react well? did u have to defend urself from them?

Signal: there were some problems about me throwing myself in danger, but i was always safe with them

Danny: okay. cool. got it.

Signal: everything okay?

Danny: im thinking about telling my parents a secret about me. im kinda terrified of how they’re going to react

Signal: are you coming out to them?

Danny: in a way i guess. 

Danny: gonna recruit my sister into helping me talk to them. and also get rid of all their weapons beforehand so there’s a lower chance of them shooting me

Signal: shooting you?!?!? dude are you going to be okay??? don’t do anything that could get you hurt!!

Danny: gtg

Signal: dude??

Signal: danny?

Signal: let me know how it goes, okay? i can’t travel through dimensions like you can, but i can figure something out if you need a rescue

Signal: good luck danny!

-

Danny: ever get into a fist fight with a walmart knock off vampire in the parking lot of a burger joint?

Danny: [attached photo is Danny’s hand flipping off a man hovering in a parking lot. He’s wearing a cape and vampire-coded clothes.]

Signal: ever have a snack break in the middle of fighting a crocodile man?

Signal: [attached photo shows Signal holding up a half eaten taco, a giant crocodile man behind him with his own box of tacos. They’re sitting next to each other in an alley.]

Danny: point to u bc u actually got food

Signal: 😝

Signal: also, everything okay? with your parents?

Danny: let’s not talk about that.

Signal: okay. but if you do want to talk, i’ll be here for you

-

Danny: idk if dash is trying to annoy me into another fling or if he actually wants me to throw him across the field but if he doesn’t back off im going for violence

Signal: uh

Danny: THAT WAS MEANT FOR TUCKER IM SO SORRY

Signal: should i be jealous that someone is hoping for another fling with you lol

Danny: it was once and will never happen again. 1) he’s not my type 2) he’s so annoying

Danny: also why would u get jealous of anyone ure literally a hero? hello?

Signal: hey man that guy is with you in your dimension and im all the way over here

Signal: totally reasonable for me to get jealous!! this is like a more extreme version of having online friends

Danny: true… hey i can swing by for the weekend if u want!! honestly the less time i spend here the better

Signal: that bad?

Danny: i’ve known everyone here for my entire life. i need OUT

Danny: gothams cool! its a big city with things to do!!! obviously im gonna like it more than Normal Town Illinois 🤮

Signal: weather is bad all week tho…. even if you come over we wouldnt be able to go out

Signal: its been a while since we had a storm so bad

Danny: man if that was happening here i would be able to punch the storm away

Signal: im taking that as a joke

Danny: no i literally punched a storm away before. he was a dick tho he deserved it

Signal: ….this is still Normal Town Illinois right?

Danny: .

Danny: ok fine maybe u have a point

Danny: anyways!!! i just wanna hang out with you dude i would be happy just playing video games or something

Signal: we can do that!! let me know when u get here 😊

Signal: and good luck dealing w this dash guy!!

Danny: ugh dont remind me

-

Signal: hye u know our plana to hang out tody

Signal: maybe rain chek tht im not goos company rn

Danny: u ok? i can always come by some other weekend

Signal: got hit and everythif bad

Danny: did u hit ur head?

Signal: yes

Danny: ok im going to call u so you can stop looking at ur phone screen. just in case u have a concussion

-

The phone rings twice before Signal picks up. He mumbles something that might be a hello, but it’s honestly hard to tell. 

“Hey, man,” Danny says, leaning back in his chair to look up at the faded glow in the dark stars he stuck up on his ceiling years ago. “Are you okay?”

Signal hums a vague response, then sighs, sending static down the line. “Just got a headache right now. Can’t even go out since it’s too bright.”

“Is it sunny in Gotham right now?”

“No, it’s super cloudy and that’s still too much. I hate concussions.” There’s a bit of a whine in his voice that reminds Danny that under the helmet, Signal is a normal guy just like anyone else. And like everyone else, powers don’t save him from the pain of brain trauma. 

Danny would know; he’s gotten pretty good at taking care of injuries and the such through his high school career of getting tossed in lockers and attacked by ghosts. He’s pretty sure parts of his brain are still rattled from the amount of times he’s been thrown into and through walls. 

“I hear you, man,” Danny commiserates, “Head injuries are the worst. But it should start feeling better in a few days, so you can just stay home and relax until the pain stops.”

“Ugh, I wish. I still have to go to school tomorrow.”

“Dude, that sucks. If you can stay home sick, then don’t force yourself to go. Concussions are no joke.”

Signal hums again, then mumbles, “I can’t think of an excuse. Cause the concussion is from being hit on patrol so like. I can’t say that! I have to figure out a reason for my civilian identity to have a concussion.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“Please, I’ll take anything at this point, man. My brain is done for.”

“Make up an embarrassing story. You have to make yourself look silly and people will believe you more and not ask follow up questions because you’re too embarrassed to say more.”

“...Keep talking. This sounds viable. The only advice I got was to basically fake my death or get into a car accident to get more injured.”

“I think you need to fight whoever said that,” Danny says, “That is horrible advice.”

“I know!” Signal laughs. “Oh I shouldn’t have laughed, my head is hurting more.”

Danny lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he strains his hearing, he can make out the rustle of fabric from Signal’s end of the call as well as the murmur of his parent’s voices downstairs. He closes his eyes and focuses on the call, pushing away the heavy weight of regret on his chest that hits him each time he thinks about his parents. 

Now is not the time for that. Signal needs calm and quiet, so Danny is going to give that to him and then let him go to rest.

“Are you drinking enough water? Getting some comfort food?”

“Yeah, I’m being taken care of. Don’t worry Danny, I got a whole crew of dysfunctional caretakers.”

“Good. I’ll let you get back to resting, then.”

“I’m still so sorry I had to cancel. I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Warmth rises to his cheeks and Danny rubs a hand against them, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that came to life at those words.  “We can always do a different day. Let me know when you feel better, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks, Danny.”

“I hope you feel better soon, Signal. I missed you too.”

There’s a pause where Danny’s heart pounds hard against his chest, as though trying to escape his ribcage. He bites his tongue, wondering it that was too much, if he made things weird, if Signal didn’t feel the same way. 

And then Signal says with a soft voice, “I can’t wait to see you again. You’re too sweet to me.”

“Okay!” Danny squeaks, cheeks aflame, “Go sleep, Signal! I’ll talk to you once you can look at a screen again.”

“Alright. Thanks, Danny.”

“Of course, dude. Bye.”

Signal makes a soft mumble that could be ‘bye’ but it’s hard to tell with Signal’s voice going all rough and low, exhausting in every sound, and then the call is ending. 

Danny drops the phone onto his desk and draws his knees up to hold them against his chest. He rests his chin on them, filled with longing for Gotham.

Not just for the Signal, though that’s a big part of it. But for the anonymity of a big city in a dimension where he doesn’t exist. A place where he can be himself, just Danny instead of being torn between his parent’s son and Phantom. Plus, Gotham has heroes! Not other ghosts, not ghost hunters, but people with superpowers who help people whenever they can. 

It would be nice to be someplace like Gotham where he wouldn’t have to carry the responsibility of protecting an entire city on his shoulders. It would be nice to have friends who understand why he can’t not give his all to protect people, regardless of how they feel for him, friends who make the same choice, friends who aren’t weighed down by guilt with their part in his death.

As much as he loves Sam and Tucker, he knows that will be something that haunts them for the rest of their lives. 

It’s better now that it had been in freshman year, but it’s still something that changed them all. He’ll always love them, and he knows they love him, but they need to spend some time apart.

In Amity Park, they’re the outsiders who are too weird for the rest of the school, outcasts who stick together, a tightly knit group full of secrets. They’ve been each others only friends for the longest time; sometimes, others come in and out of their lives, like Valerie, but the bond he has with Sam and Tucker can’t be replicated. 

They need to be with new people to grow any more. He can see how they’re holding each other back. 

They’ll always find a way to be together, but they have to be apart first.

Gotham will be good for that. 

Hell, any place in that dimension would be good!

Danny just wants to be more than he is, wants to be better and he can’t do that here or with his friends. 

And he certainly can’t do that with his parents.

After telling them about everything’s he’s done as Phantom, all the times he’s ruined their inventions or fought with the GIW or endangered people through his fights with other ghosts, his parents just stared at him. They were seated around the kitchen table, Jazz standing behind Danny with a comforting hand on his shoulder, as his parents just… stared.

There were no accusations of possession, no weapons drawn, no demands for an explanation. Just a haunted look in his parents eyes as they went silent, still, horrified. 

“Danny,” his mom had whispered, “You mean you’re—”

“I’m Phantom, yeah. The ghost menace,” he had answered.

“You’re dead,” she finished as if he hadn’t spoken. “You died and we didn’t… we never noticed. What— How—”

The thing about being Phantom is that Danny knows he died. He knows he came back changed. But he doesn’t like thinking about it, still wakes up from nightmares of electricity racing through his body, frying him from inside out as it stops and restarts his heart in an endless painful pattern. Yes he died, but he got powers out of it! He got to meet other ghosts, explore the Infinite Realms, do so many cool things no one else is able to do…

But he still died. Half of him is still dead. He’s never going to be the kid he once was.

“It was an accident,” he had whispered, “With the portal. The on button is inside it, and when I went in for some stupid picture, I tripped and hit it.”

“And we only cared about the portal working,” his dad had said, grief coloring every line in his face. “We didn’t even look at you. We just went straight for the portal. We were so happy to be right that we didn’t stop to think about what it meant, how it could have happened…”

The tears he saw well up in his parents eyes made his heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. For several long minutes, silence settled around them as his parents closed either eyes are stared down at the table, refusing to look at him. Jazz had squeezed his shoulder, then pulled him up out of his seat.

“Danny, go upstairs. Or to Tucker’s place. I need to have my own talk with them,” she had said. There was a steel in her gaze that told Danny there was no use in arguing, so he walked out the front door and transformed so he could fly out into the woods where he could be alone, watching the sky change colors as the sun set.

It’s been two weeks since then. His parents still can’t look at him for too long. They can’t look him in the eyes at all.

He wonders if he would have preferred them trying to kill him. At least then they would acknowledge that he’s still here instead of moving around him as if he’s a memory haunting the halls of their home, one they’re too guilty to face just yet. 

He misses his dad’s loud voice and enthusiasm. He misses his mom’s quick wit and quicker reflexes. He misses the chaos of each meal they would have together and how his parents would drag him and Jazz along on random, sudden trips for the sake of science. 

He misses his parents. 

Danny hates that the family he loves died with him in that portal. 

As much as he still loves them, being in the house, and in Amity Park in general, is suffocating. The farther he can get from them the better; Danny isn’t sure he’d react well if he stayed in this universe and woke up one day with his parents decided to break into his new home because they finally feel up to having a conversation with him. 

Maybe he’d talk to Signal about what living in Gotham is like. That might help him make a decision on what to do with himself once he graduates from Casper High School.

He’ll save it for the next time they meet. 

Some things are better done in person, after all. And it wouldn’t hurt for Danny to use it as an excuse to make sure he’s fine. 

But for now, he’ll wait until the days pass and keep daydreaming about better things.

-

Signal: hey man, u doing okay? i haven’t heard from u in a while

Danny: yeah im good! i was waiting for u to text first bc i didnt know how long you’d need to recover from a concussion

Signal: ive been good for a while, dude. dw abt waiting to text me, just send me something and i’ll reply once i can!!

Danny: i’ll keep that in mind for the next time u get injured 👍

Signal: but fr are u good? tell me to back off if u need but u seem kinda down

Danny: im fine!!! just dealing w the crushing weight of existence, that’s all 🫠

Signal: oh mood. anything i can do to make things better for u?

Danny: nah it’s fine, im just like this sometimes. i promise it’ll pass

Signal: want a distraction?

Danny: please

Signal: so i was just swinging thru the streets as i do and this group called me down while theyre having a huge argument

Signal: so i go bc i dont want things escalating yknow? 

Signal: and idk the context of this argument AT ALL but one of them turns to me

Signal: looks me dead in the eyes

Signal: and says ‘penis enhancement pills are NOT a thing, right?’

Danny: SKDFJALSDJ NO WAY

Signal: oh man. this isnt even the best part of this story

Danny: there’s MORE?????

Signal: its gotham, danny, there’s always more lmao

Signal: so anyways……..

-

Danny: i hope you know that story has been haunting me all week

Danny: dash was being a dick again and i was half asleep so i told him ‘maybe u’d be less of a dick if u stop taking penis enhancing pills’

Signal: THATS GOLD

Signal: my job here is done. nothing will ever top that. i’ll see myself out ✌️

Danny: he looked so shocked lmaooo

Danny: tried to say he DOESNT take any pills but it was too late

Danny: he was too flustered by it no one believed him

Danny: top 10 things to say to ur former bully

Signal: i didnt know he bullied u. good for u! get his ass!

Danny: he’s fine now lol just annoying. we all grew out of the super cliche high school phase after freshman year when we had to work together to fend off ghosts and the government

Signal: nothing like a little anarchy to bring people together

Signal: its why im still good friends w the people who were in a gang i joined when i was younger to be like. street kid vigilantes bc gotham was going bad back then

Danny: everything u say about gotham and ur life is so fascinating literally how are u real?? ure the perfect ya novel protagonist

Signal: thats the sweetest thing anyones ever said to me ❣️

Signal: but also lol. lmao. gotham really is just like that. no one is immune

Signal: u also sound like a ya protag jsyk. 

Danny: literally how im so boring??

Signal: danny. babe. im gonna have to bring out the capital letters for this bc i get the feeling that u really believe that

Danny: oh boy

Signal: Listen. You live in a small town that’s Haunted, fight ghosts, have powers, went from being bullied to being chill with your bully, and can travel the multiverse. You are a YA Protagonist.

Danny: damn i can’t argue with that :/

Danny: why’d i have to be the ghost hunter’s ghost son. i wanna be a side character. give me a refund on this life pls

Signal: do i dare ask clarification on the ghost thing?

Danny: uuuh no? its kinda personal and im dealing w it but its also kinda like ur civilian id?

Danny: its something i’ll share once we’re closer and i know u better and can trust u with it

Signal: totally fair. want me to pretend that part of the conversation never happened?

Danny: please

Signal: cool. watch this

Signal changed Danny’s name to YA protag (real)

YA protag (real): ooooh my god

YA protag (real): im not taking this lying down

YA protag (real) changed Signal’s name to YA menace

YA protag (real) changed their name to YA protag (retired)

YA menace: lmao

YA menace: does this mean… ure my senior…. my knowledgeable mentor… my senpai 🥺

YA protag (retired): i will throw us both into a black hole dont even try me 🔪

YA menace: LMAO

YA menace: fair. just saying that dealt me so much psychological damage

YA protag (retired): deserved

-

YA protag (retired): can we attempt Danny Visits Gotham: 2! Electric Boo-galoo?

YA menace: yeah!!!! im free this weekend if u wanna come by then!!

YA protag (retired): i can do this weekend!!

YA menace: i will do my very best not to get a head injury before then

YA protag (retired): can u maybe aim for no injuries?

YA menace: danny we need to be realistic here

YA menace: my goal is to have no bleeding wounds that need stitches. as long as i don’t bleed its not a problem 👍

YA protag (retired): …..

YA menace: no need for the judgment i have everything under control

YA protag (retired): …………

YA protag (retired): :/

-

YA menace: lmk when ure gonna be in gotham! i’ll make sure to be outside waiting for u

YA protag (retired): i’ll be another hour but i’ll send a msg before i head out!!

YA protag (retired): actually it might be a bit longer i gotta fight some people who are trying to cheer me up

YA menace: should i be concerned

YA protag (retired): nah its fine they’re just annoying

YA menace: if u need to reschedule

YA protag (retired): noooo!!!! i’ll be in gotham soon i swear!!!!

YA menace: ok!! ok!!!! i will keep waiting for you then 🫡

-

Duke waits for an hour and a half, swinging through streets and waving to people, before Danny texts him to let him know that he’s next to the botanical gardens. 

One moment, Duke is perched on the roof of a Mexican restaurant in the Bowery. The next, he’s halfway across Gotham, swinging recklessly from building to building.

So what if he’s excited to see Danny again! That’s normal!

Anyone would do the same in his position.

Plus, Duke still feels so bad about having to cancel last time due to his concussion. The sooner he gets to Danny, the sooner he can start making up for it. He didn’t spend the last few patrols being extra careful for nothing; he only has a few bruise and no bleeding at all! 

Danny’s star glow helps Duke find him behind the botanical gardens, hidden away from the rest of the street. 

He drops down from the roof, using the shadows to soften the impact of landing.

When he looks at Danny, leaning against the building, he’s greeted with a bright smile. 

“Signal!” he says, pushing off the wall to close the distance between them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long or anything.”

“Nah, you’re good. You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course! It was just some friendly fighting, and they wouldn’t be able to really hurt me even if they tried. I’m all good! So, what’s the plan for today?”

Duke looks him over just in case, but Danny does appear to be perfectly fine. Not a single bruise on him. Maybe it was just a few friends roughhousing with him? That might be it, since Sam and Tucker did try to take each other out last time they were in Gotham. So he’s just going to go with what Danny says! He’s fine, and they can move on!

He’s totally going to worry about it later, but right now is not the time for it when Danny’s waiting to spend the day with him.

“Well, I still have to finish patrol, but that’s just for another hour if you wanna join me,” he says. “And then we can head to the Hatch to just… hang out. Or we can find something else to do, totally up to you.”

“The Hatch?” Danny repeats, tilting his head to the side curiously. Duke has to take a moment and just appreciate how cute Danny is before he can compose himself enough to answer.

“Yeah, it’s like my… secret base? HQ? The place I go for superhero things that is for me, specifically, and that I don’t have to share with a bunch of other people.”

“You have a secret base?! That’s so awesome! I just have—” Danny falters, his excitement falling, and then he plasters on a pained, fake smile. “I’ve always wanted to see a superhero’s HQ. Are you sure it’s fine to show it to me, though?”

Part of him wants to ask about what he was going to say before switching gears, but the drawn expression on his face is more than enough to make Duke back off. “Yeah, man, don’t even worry about it. Besides, it’s not like there’s any other places we can go to without me revealing my identity, you know?”

“Fair enough,” Danny nods. “But maybe one day we can?”

“For sure,” Duke says. “Come on, up for a quick patrol around Gotham?”

“Oh, definitely.” The light returns to Danny’s eyes as he lifts off the ground, floating. The smile on his face is more sincere, and the sight of it makes the knot of worry in Duke’s heart pull loose. He pulls his grapple out and aims for the highest ledge of Poison Ivy’s greenhouse, tucked in the back of the botanical gardens, then takes off.

Danny is flying next to him immediately, a blur of invisibility, and they fall into a rhythm quickly as they head towards the Bowery. As Duke free runs and swings between buildings, Danny flies around him, the occasional laugh slipping past his lips as he circles around Duke. 

It’s hard not to have his attention stolen by Danny, but Duke is here to protect the people of Gotham, so he focuses 90% of his attention to the streets, keeping an eye and ear out for any trouble. 

There’s not much happening today, thankfully. He’s only had to stop a few burglaries, a bank robbery, and chase off a stalker before Danny arrived. Truthfully, the peace is making him nervous; there hasn’t been a big attack to the city in a while, with no word on the movement of rogues and nothing big brewing among the gangs and mobs. Peace rarely lasts so long in Gotham, and Duke is genuinely worried the next thing will be some continent destroying, apocalypse bringing disaster. 

In the last hour of his patrol, he only has to stop a purse-snatcher and help someone move their broken down car off the street and into a parking lot. Danny stays in the air for both, invisible to everyone but him, and the blur of his aura floats around the areas Duke stops at curiously. 

They hit up touristy places last time he was in Gotham, and food trucks before that. Maybe next time Duke can get takeout from a nice restaurant and they can have a rooftop picnic. 

Not quite a date, not yet at least, but something close to it. A testing of the waters. An unspoken promise for something more.

With the hour ends, Duke comes to stop on the roof of a tattoo parlor and gestures for Danny to join him. 

The blur of invisibility fades away and Danny’s features come back into focus as he lowers himself down to the roof. 

“What’s up?” Danny asks, glancing around them curiously.

“It’s about time for patrol to end, so we can head to the Hatch now. But I do need to blindfold you so you don’t see where the Hatch is located.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. Will I just have to hold onto you or something? Since I won’t be able to see where we’re going.”

“I was thinking I’d just carry you. It’s easier that way.”

“Sure, that works!” Danny closes his eyes, cheeks already darkening with a blush. “I’ll just… let you blindfold me now?”

Duke desperately wants to smoosh Danny’s cheeks together in his hands, but valiantly resists the urge. He’s on a mission! To hang out with Danny! He can cry about how cute Danny is later!

He walks up to Danny on silent feet, circling around him. Then he lifts his hands, picturing the light solidifying in his palms, turning to fabric that darkens and obscures, bending the light to be darker and darker until it’s nearly black. He gently pulls it across Danny’s eyes, leaning in closer to him to make sure he’s not putting it on too tightly.

Danny gasps slightly when his back bumps into Duke’s chest, and Duke can’t help the way his eyes dart down to Danny’s mouth, his red cheeks, the long line of his neck. 

Focus, he tells himself sternly, and draws the ends of his makeshift blindfold back to tie the ends together behind Danny’s head. 

“There,” he says in a low voice. “All done.”

Danny doesn’t answer. He just leans back against Duke, pressing them together slightly, and Duke brings his hands down to Danny’s hips to hold his steady.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready,” Danny answers in a faint voice. “How do you want me?”

Now that’s a dangerous question to ask right then and there. Duke bites back a number of flirtatious, suggestive answers, and makes himself actually think about the best way he can carry Danny while grappling to the Hatch. He’ll need one hand free to grapple, but also needs to keep a secure grip on Danny…

He steps to the side and guides one of Danny’s arms up to wrap around his shoulders. Then he picks Danny up, leaving him to wrap his legs around his waist as he walks over to the edge of the roof and looks towards the area in Gotham where the Hatch is hidden. Duke takes a moment to adjust his arm to keep Danny secure against his chest, then takes hold of his grapple with his free hand.

“Ready?” he checks, tightening his hold on Danny’s waist.

Danny nods against his neck, tucking his face in the crook of Duke’s shoulder. “Ready!”

Duke grins and jumps off the building, shooting out his grapple as they begin to fall. Danny yelps lightly, then clings to Duke even harder, his blindfold still secure around his head. It’s become a bit fainter as Duke’s attention slipped off of it, but he focuses on it again to darken it and keep Danny from seeing where they’re going.

It occurs to him halfway to the Hatch how much trust Danny is putting in him. To put a blindfold on him. To lead him to a place he’s never been to before. To let Duke swing him across the streets of Gotham without using his own ability to fly. 

Oracle’s apprehension about Danny (and his friends) is a heavy weight on his mind, but he can’t help but think it’s unnecessary. She’d understand if she ever met Danny in person. He wears his heart on his sleeve and offers it so freely; how could Duke not trust him? 

The weeks they’ve been texting each other only make him sure that Danny’s a good person, someone he wants in his life for as long as he can stay, someone he wants to be honest with. They just click, somehow, like they’re each holding a puzzle piece that’s been missing in each other’s lives. 

I think I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you, he wants to say. But the street entrance to the Hatch is just a block away and Danny still doesn’t know his name, so Duke bites his tongue and forces all those feelings back into more platonic territory. 

Just as the reach the building with the hidden panel to allow him entrance to the Hatch, Duke pulls at the light around them to hide them from sight as they drop down from the sky. 

“Almost in,” he says, holding Danny up with one arm as he tucks his grapple away and push the fake brick cover out of the way to punch in his twelve digit access code. 

A hidden door in the wall of the building, the back bricked off from the operating portion courtesy of Wayne Industries funding the restoration project for this area of the city after a major alien attack, opens up smoothly and without a sound. The ground slopes downward at a steep angle; he uses this door for when he’s riding his motorcycle out of the cave networks underneath the city that keep the Hatch connected to the Batcave, but it’s not too far from where the Hatch itself is. 

He carries Danny in, then makes sure the door closes completely behind him before setting Danny down on his feet. “We’ve still got a bit of a walk to the Hatch, but you can take your blindfold off now.”

“I’ll wait until we get there,” Danny says. “I’m going to use this as an excuse to cling to you for as long as I can.”

“Fair enough!” Duke laughs, “Cling away, I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”

And cling away Danny does, wrapping his arms around Duke’s left arm, holding onto it as they make their way down the tunnel. Duke keeps an eye out for anything that might trip him and carefully steers him past them. 

“Are we underground?”

“Yeah, there’s this huge cave system under the city that we use to get around,” Duke answers. “Though we’ve paved in small roads and made stable tunnels to go through, so it’s all safe.”

“Huh, that’s cool. It would be nice if I had a way to get around Amity like this.”

“Danny, you can fly.”

“That’s not relevant!”

“How is it not relevant?” Duke laughs incredulously, jostling Danny slightly. Danny turns towards him and they trip over each other slightly, clutching to each other to keep their balance.

“It just isn’t!”

They bicker lightheartedly down the tunnel until it opens up into the garage of the Hatch. Duke helps Danny up the stairs to the main area, where he keeps his suit, weapons, and the large computer Bruce installed when the Hatch was first made. Once he’s sure Danny’s comfortable, he leaves to change into his civilian clothes with only a domino mask slapped over his eyes to protect his identity.

And if Duke takes an extra minute to fix up his hair, the long locs in a disarray from being tied back and stuffed into his helmet, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

Maybe he does need to get a hair cut. He’s starting to get why Steph wants to shave her head and rock a pixie cut like Selena. But, on the other hand, he does like how he looks with longer hair, especially when it’s tied up…

Long hair for now. It makes him look good and he’s here to impress Danny. 

When he heads back to where Danny is, he sees Danny sitting down patiently, his blindfold still on, though it’s become much more transparent than it was before. He can see how Danny’s eyes are closed beneath it, waiting for Duke to return, tapping out a slow rhythm on his knee with his fingers. 

“You can take that off now,” he says as he walks up to Danny. 

“You sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have brought you in here.”

Danny reaches up and gently pulls the blindfold off, slowly blinking his eyes open. He watches as the blindfold dissolves in his hand, becoming light again, then shyly turns to look at Duke. 

“Oh,” he says softly, taking in Duke, who tries very hard not to fidget and reveal just how nervous he is to be out of his Signal armor before Danny. “You are so unfair?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t be kind, a superhero, and attractive! Tell me something you’re bad at so I know you have some flaws.”

Duke grins, flattered. “You think I’m attractive?”

“Stop fishing for compliments!” Danny pushes him lightly, barely enough force to make him tilt to the side. “Give me something you’re bad at, come on.”

“Well, if you really need to know…” Duke takes a moment to think of something that won’t completely embarrass him. “I’m terrible at learning other languages. Vocab doesn’t stick in my head, grammar rules mean nothing to me, and my accent is atrocious.”

“That doesn’t count, that’s normal,” Danny argues.

“It the only thing I can think of right now! I’m just really bad at non-English languages!”

Danny rolls his eyes, shaking his head fondly. “I can’t believe you. You have powers, you’re cute, and you’re good at flirting. Stop winning at life so much, the rest of us stand no chance against you.”

“I promise I’m a disaster when I’m not trying to impress people.”

“Lies. You’re being perfect right now and there’s no one to impress.”

“I’m trying to impress you.”

Danny blinks. “Oh.” He bites his lip in an attempt to force down a smile. “Shut up. I don’t count. You don’t need to try to impress me, you’ve already done that.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll try to be more of a mess around you from now on.”

“Please do, I can’t be the only one making a fool of myself. Where’s the friendship? The solidarity? Suffer with me!”

Duke shoves him back playfully, and just like that, they fall back into a rhythm of easy conversation and light touches, skirting the lines of friendly with something more. Time slips away from him and Duke spends every second with Danny wishing he could have this always, that they didn’t have a time limit over their heads, that the universe itself wasn’t keeping them apart. He shows off the Hatch and some Bat gadgets, which Danny finds fascinating, then they spend an hour comparing their most commonly used powers. 

Danny has to leave all too soon, opening up a small portal of swirling green with the help of a small pocketwatch-like device, and Duke can only hope that they can do this again soon, but without the domino on his face.

One day, he swears. One day they’ll have that.

-

YA menace: hey quickly rate this guys fit

YA menace: [attached photo is a goon with a black and white striped shirt with a purple question mark safety pinned onto it. They’re also wearing neon purple sweatpants and are glaring at the camera.]

YA protag (retired): ngl thats not the worst ive seen. 6/10

YA menace: 6???

YA menace: 6?????????????

YA menace: danny i say this with all the love in my heart, go get ur eyes checked

YA protag (retired): before u say anything else. look at what i regularly have to deal with

YA protag (retired): [attached photo is a floating man with blue-ish skin an d a very dramatic hairstyle. He’s wearing a long black cloak, a white suit, and a Green Bay Packer’s football jersey on top of all that.]

YA menace: damn. no wonder ur judgement of bad fits is Like That. this guys to blame

YA protag (retired): wanna know the worst part?

YA menace: this can get worse??

YA protag (retired): thats my godfather. 

YA protag (retired): this is a man my parents thought were fit to be responsible for me and my sister if anything happens to us

YA protag (retired): THIS GUY

YA menace: u have my sincerest condolences

YA menace: oh shit more riddler guys are here i gtg they got guns

YA protag (retired): be safe!! please dont get shot!!!!

YA menace: i’ll do my best 🫡

-

YA protag (retired): came home today and all the weapons that were attached to my house disappeared

YA protag (retired): i feel like im in the twilight zone

YA protag (retired): if i start talking backwards or acting like a robot pls know it is not me but something wearing my face

YA menace: the weapons attached to ur house???? 

YA menace: im starting there but i want u to know that everything u said was concerning

YA protag (retired): have i not mentioned it before? my parents are kinda mad scientists and make a lot of weird but working things. mostly weapons to fight ghosts.

YA menace: cant believe ure only just dropping lore abt urself when we’ve been talking for so long

YA protag (retired): in my defense!!!! everyone here knows abt them so im used to not having to say anything!!!

YA protag (retired): people usually just Get It!!!

YA menace: moving on to my second point: having the weapons removed from ur house is whats concerning??? not the weapons being attached to ur house???

YA protag (retired): listen. i have spent p much my entire life with a house that doubles as an armed fortress. when i was a kid i was convinced it would come to life and protect me from monsters. this was also during my urban legends monster phrase and i scared myself reading abt them and needed the comfort

YA protag (retired): my POINT is that its normal for my house to have weapons. so seeing them gone is worrying!!!!!

YA menace: .

YA menace: ok fair enough.  last point: is being replaced by a robot version of urself a concern in ur universe? bc it is here

YA protag (retired): no its not a legit concern here

YA protag (retired): probably. dont quote me on that. i had a cloning situation a few years ago

YA menace: a hwat

YA protag (retired): dont worry about it!!!

YA protag (retired): oh my parents are home. i need to talk to them. Bye!!

YA menace: gl!! let me know if u need rescuing from evil clone robots

-

RED: before I say anything else, Signal this is the price u pay for not letting me play with interdimensional tech after you let O have a turn at it.

YA protag (retired): um.

YA protag (retired): wrong chat???

RED: no this is the right chat. Hi Danny :) 

YA protag (retired): hi???? who are u????

YA menace: oh my god

YA menace: this is NOT NECESSARY RED

RED: as I said. U did this to urself.

YA menace: 🙄🙄🙄

YA protag (retired): wait. did u… hack into this chat?? did u hack the phone????

RED: yeah lol.

RED: was a bit of a challenge but it was fun

RED: had to pull out the spare alien tech to make something that would connect

YA protag (retired): ok 1. tucker will want to marry u for ur brain

YA protag (retired): 2. ALIEN TECH?????

YA menace: i feel like we already talked abt aliens being real in my dimension

YA protag (retired): THATS DIFFERENT FROM HAVNG ALIEN TECH

YA protag (retired): hey red what do u accept as bribes

YA menace: u ask him while im right here????

YA protag (retired): u dont have the alien tech. red does. case closed.

RED: oh wow. Signal….. Wow.

YA menace: what? shut up. cant leave any of yall unsupervised i swear

RED: also, Danny I accept tech from different dimensions and also fun tasting sodas and energy drinks

YA protag (retired): done. i will have the goods ready next time i go to gotham, pls hook me up w alien teach

RED: do u just like new tech?

YA menace: hes a space nerd so he loves aliens

RED: do u just wanna meet an alien then?

YA protag (retired): CAN I??!!

RED: yeah I can pull something together for u

YA menace: omfg. Red can u go stop stealing danny from me

RED: up ur game Signal. We’re ALL going to try to steal Danny away

YA menace: how tf do i kick u out of the chat

RED: u cant 😇 im too good to be kicked

YA menace: put that halo away we all know what u really are

YA menace: 🤡

YA protag (retired): omg….. rip red ur cool reputation will be missed

RED: hey now. What happened to the bribes :( 

YA protag (retired): ur still gonna get them but i am playing favorites

YA protag (retired): and signal is obviously my fave

YA menace: knew i could count on u to have my back danny 💛

YA menace: drop ur location red i just wanna talk

RED: lol no

RED: good luck catching me :) 

YA menace: coward!!!!

YA protag (retired): there he goes…..

-

YA protag (retired): hey u know what i just realized?

YA menace: what?

YA protag (real) changed YA menace’s name to Light

YA protag (real) changed their name to Night

Night: rhyming buddies 😄

Light: i get the light bc of my powers but wheres the night coming from?

Night: bc i love space! the night sky!!

Light: ok thats pretty cute ngl

Light: give me some warning bc u do stuff like that its bad for my heart

Night: stop sweet talking me im busy feeling clever

Light: lmaooooo

Light: fair enough i’ll get back to it in 3-5 business days

Night: good 👍

Night: also is now a good time to ask abt red…. who was that….

Light: that was a nerd. dont worry abt him ok im cooler

Light: serious answer: hes red robin and hes another vigilante in gotham. we’re chill

Night: did u find his location for a throw down tho

Light: i can do u one better: i know where he lives

Night: oh???

Light: yeah his dad is my mentor of sorts so its not THAT impressive that i know

Light: i did steal all his zesti tho lol

Night: not sure what that is but im proud of u

Light: its just a drink that hes obsessed w. i love being a minor annoyance 😇

Night: shaking ur hand. its really the best thing to be

Light: hell yeah!!!

-

Light: hey got a kinda serious question for u

Night: whats up?

Light: have u thought abt ur future?

Light: like what u want to do in college, where u want to go after high school, what career u want

Night: i mean. some. 

Night: not as much as my parents want me to. 

Night: my sister goes to harvard and is super smart. im not that impressive so i keep disappointing them

Night: and with things recently… idk its hard. it kinda feels like they dont believe i have a future.

Night: not that they really see me in the present anyways

Night: sorry that was heavy. short answer is no! not really!

Light: that sounds rough. wanna talk abt it?

Night: not really but not talking hasnt done me much good

Night: my sister would want me to talk anyways. to someone trustworthy at least

Night: so if u dont mind listening…

Light: go for it!! im here for u danny

Light: emotionally at least. not physically but thats not by choice

Night: it can wait tho honestly. whyd u ask abt the future? something on ur mind?

Light: just feeling really lost rn is all.

Light: its like everyone around me has an idea of what to do with their lives while im still surprised that i made it as far as i have

Light: this is really the first time ive seriously thought abt my future and i have no idea what to do

Light: so i wanted to talk to u bc u help make things feel less terrifying

Night: signal…. ur going to make me cry

Night: u make me feel brave too

Night: ♥️

Night: i get what u mean 100% btw. u go so long sure that u dont have a future that u dont know what to do now that its here

Light: exactly.

Light: what am i supposed to do with my life? i dont want to be a hero full time, ive seen how that breaks people

Night: do u want to go to college? or do u just feel like u have to bc everyone else is?

Light: i do want to. 

Light: my parents both went and theyve always wanted me to get a degree and be successful

Light: they may not be around anymore, not really, but i do still want to make them proud

Light: they cant see me graduate, but maybe when i tell them the next time i visit, itll reach the part of them thats still alive in their minds

Light: what about u? do u want to go to college?

Night: yeah. it was always my dream to become an astronaut. work at nasa and everything

Night: no chance its ever gonna happen now tho lol

Night: dying and the health problems that comes w that will do that to ya ✌️

Light: oh man that sucks

Night: yeah

Night: i might still study aerospace engineering tho. even if i cant be an astronaut, maybe i can help others get there

Light: thats a good alternative!! im glad u still have some idea of what u can do that can help u work at nasa and achieve part of ur dream

Night: we’ll see tho

Night: im not really feeling college atm. or life in general

Night: idk i feel…. stuck. like nothing will change even if i get out of illinois. it’ll just be the same stuff at a different place

Night: and i know itll take one visit from my parents to start ruining things for me

Night: i just… dont really wanna deal w that. ive kinda given up on life tbh i might as well just focus on the ghostly side of things. stay in the ghost zone more permanently

Light: i dont wanna judge or anything but that doesnt sound healthy?? 

Light: pls dont disappear into the ghost zone. i’d miss u.

Night: sweet talker

Night: i wont. dont worry. its just a feeling i get sometimes, that it’d be better if i wasnt in this world. if i could just go somewhere else

Light: hey. what if

Light: sorry if this idea is stupid or something

Light: but what if u lived here? in my dimension? u could establish a life and go to college here. 

Light: a total fresh start

Night: thats. not a bad idea actually

Night: i would love that. wouldn’t it be hard to do tho? i dont exist there.

Light: we can make it work. its not like us gotham vigilantes are new to creating new identities/lives out of nothing

Light: i could ask for a few favors, do a few dubiously legal things. you could live here

Night: im planning to take a gap year to figure out if i wanna stay in the human world at all. i could spend that year in gotham before making my choice

Night: if u dont mind me asking this huge favor of u

Light: i dont mind at all!!

Light: danny i would love for u to be here are u kidding me. i’d do anything so we could be closer together

Night: thanks signal ♥️

Night: i made this all abt me im so sorry

Night: wanna talk more abt how ur feeling or ur plans for the future?

Light: maybe some other time. i wanna get to work on making sure u can live here for the year (and more! hopefully!)

Light: tell u what. 

Light: we can talk more abt this the next time we see each other in person ok?

Night: deal

Night: im really glad i met u

Light: me too

Light: im here for u for as long as u want me around, honey

Light: u dont need to worry about a thing with me

Night: ure too sweet.

Night: im going to go now before u make me melt into a puddle of feelings

Night: ♥️

Light: ♥️

-

“Hey Babs, I have a favor to ask…”

[melissa-titanium]

i probably look fucking crazy but. "kicked out of the nowhere" ln au .

SERA IF YOU SEE THIS HI MY FRIEND THANKUOU FOR LISTENING TO MY RAMBLE <3

both of them are like. late teenage years in this one. dw im not being weird about it i hate when aus do this shit for the sole purpose of making it romantic/weird. id say 15-16

six ; i think bcos shes taller and shit she couldn't exactly. wear the raincoat anymore. so somewhere along the line she and mono picked it apart and turned it into something else on her outfit -- pants? shirt? i dont know, but that's why her shorts are yellow. she kept her hair short like it is in canon because growing it out is uncomfortable and way too warm for her comfort. also sensory shit from having hair against the back of her neck. after leaving the nowhere she wears a big ass hoodie. it's more efficient than a raincoat because raincoats are LOUD AS HELL.!!!!!!! but still has a similar feeling to her raincoat AND has pockets :) crocs are. well. crocs. if you know me you know. i actually dont think they would be all that efficient when it comes to walking around but . idk. i think she would just carry them around for the purpose of walking around more safely if the ground is hard or something she's just as quiet as she usually is. over the years of living in the nowhere i think six has actually gone on to be the more physically adept of the two. we obviously know she's way faster than him, but his time in canon implies he's got more physical strength in his arms than her. i think this changes over time -- the reason she's so sickly & weak at the start of the game (not even fast enough to catch up to mono really!) is bcos of her lack of confidence and how long she spent in the cabin. the longer she stays with mono honing her skills she goes back to kicking ass. after a while, she can lift hammers with much more ease than mono can and she probably pokes fun at him for it. HOWEVER, he eventually gets that growth spurt which allows him to run faster thsn her (long legs. holy shit hes gangly) and he pokes fun at her for being short.

mono ; longer hair. he's got No Nutrients so his hair grows real slow so hes basically never cut it. he likes it longer bcos . opposite of six! he is Always Cold. like naturally cold but its still uncomfortable. SERA I SAID THIS 2 U ALSO but i think he's a walking relic. his only exposure to people, real people, is people on tvs. considering the sounds and general theme of all the stuff in the pale city/ads and stuff, i think its safe to say he only has reference of the real world from like. western 60's-90's. both him and six i imagine have severely poor language comprehension and grammar but if he DOES talk he probably talks like a kid trying to imitate their businessman father from the 70's. and as such; he dresses like his wardrobe is a time capsule. his outfits r still dark and cover his limbs but he looks like a total dork. fucking overalls and shit LOL. i don't have any ideas for face coverings at the moment but maybe he wears sunglasses & a face mask if he sees it necessary? i very genuinely feel like he'd be fine without face coverings. most people would think he's a cosplayer, seeing as he's kind of sickly looking (basement dweller appearance) with like eye contacts or some shit. idk

also funny thing id like 2 mention. their genders are Strange. when you live in the nowhere, "society" isnt exactly "pushing gender norms" onto you. chat what the fuck is a he/him? i only know Running From Monsters . in my previous notes for what they'd be like in the real world (seen below) i think this would be a very funny thing 2 explore . someone refers to six as maam and she completely ignores them (doesnt know what that means. six internal monologue voice All i am is Six so freaking call me Six) ((they're still little kids at heart i dont think they'd like to swear))

more notes here

[mrsmangi]

hi!!

i js realized and UGH I FEEL SO STUPID BUT i realized how much of an impact fanficiton can actually dent to the whole "some people are forgetting luigi's inspo and purpose and the whole crux of this situation" im not sure if it is disrespectful that's why i wanted to run it by to u guys but we can totally bring things to perspective on luigi's current conditions. how scared he is, how ignorant MEDIA is in general, we can totally do it and honestly we already are!! most of the fanfictions ive read are raising awareness about the struggles of going through traumatic surgeries, making people feel seen about injuries they had that are similar to luigi's!! i just want to clarify that im not saying that EVERYTHING we choose to write to be apart of this community must be sort of tasked to carry the weight of the world at all times and have this altruistic can-do attitude about it. what im saying is that we all require something real even if it is in our fantasies - real as in something that is close to us as humans and ive realized that there is always and forever will be a certain standing that we take against oppressors that quote and quote "work in the shadows - making them systems of cowardice" most importantly ive noticed that us as a community loves fanfiction that humanizes luigi - we live vicariously through the name of "y/n" and that is just us feeling human and through this fandom we create a community an institution with a base for smart thinkers and creative writers i think luigi has inspired a lot of people and it is important to note that people especially creators - those who know they belong or has hosted a blog or whatever type of creative craft of their that hones their skills are easily touched by topics that wake them up and inspire them - those are topics that are hard to forget

so i just wanted to share this message! and im sending this as Phoenix (pseudonym) to my favorite luigi writers, you guys dont have to respond politically or feel pressured to completely agree with what im saying i mean im still learning and im def a minor exposed to media so of course i am subject to multiple errors! i just felt the need to say it and im too shy to post it on my actual tumblr..

clarification: i really dont mean this as an attack or as a self-righteous claim :(( i sent this to you because i adore you and ur writing, how u see the world, how u contribute to this fandom, and how u make us feel dare i say... one with the one we are reading about!! im sorry if i said anything bad or insensitive or just offending in any way!! dont be pressured to reply to this i just realized that it's important for me to share my voice even if i think it doesnt matter because it might matter to others who would like to read it

by the way!! i got these ideas a lot from a book called the message by ta nehisi coates!! if you love writing you'd love this book for sure :))

i really dont mean to offend and i apologize for the long message my love!! i hope you have a great day please drink water and stay safe!!

hi, gorgeous! first of all, there’s nothing to feel stupid about! please know, in my blog, i am always open to having ur guys’ perspectives on luigi (or anything, really!), so for that i thank u for sharing it!

i rly appreciate your passion for the community and for raising awareness about luigi’s story. i completely agree that fanfiction can be a powerful tool to connect with his experiences and to humanize him, but i’ll admit, i’ve also found myself hesitant at times to write about him for similar reasons.

to me, there’s a fine line between exploring his story and romanticizing him in a way that might overshadow the real, political, and lawful consequences he’s currently facing. it’s important for everyone to remember that luigi is NOT a perfect person. i don’t mean it in a bad way, i just mean that like all of us, he has flaws. he is not a fictional character. he’s a living, breathing, and currently incarcerated human being. but personally, i believe those flaws are what make him such an interesting and complex character to write about. in my most recent work, “found,” i rly tried to balance that idea. while fiction lets writers create beautiful and romantic things, we can’t forget the reality of his situation or replace it with fantasy.

we should never sugarcoat the situation luigi is going through. i actively do my best to not do so either. i find his darker, more flawed aspects to be what makes his story so compelling, and i think that grounding my writing in that reality helps me explore him in a way that feels more authentic.

i appreciate you sharing your thoughts on this, and i encourage you to keep researching, reflecting, and learning. i’ll def do my best to do the same, and i’m so glad to see how deeply this community values meaningful discussions like this.

i see you and i hear you. 💕🫶🏼

[pommunist]

Also the way they all got summarily kicked out just felt like him lashing out and punishing the workers for Léa's whistleblowing and the fans for daring to get outraged

Like "oh you think the actors should get paid for acting? Well now we're gonna have no actors at all! And they might never come back if we can't afford them! There! Are you happy now??"

Admittedly this is a very bad faith interpretation of something that could just be a simple over-correction out of panic, but like... furloughing your workers for an indefinite time without a warning is not a reasonable move actually!

Especially when you as their employer also refuse to even talk to them

It just comes across as a punishment for speaking up

Nobody treats anyone they actually respect like this, this is how people treat misbehaving dogs

And then when the workers understandably get tired of this bs and leave, he just kinda goes that's totally fine if they want to leave of their own free will! :D (yeah I'm sure it's fine with you...)

Sorry to all the Quackity fans, it's just that the more I think about this the worse it feels, even if it wasn't his conscious intent

- 🐧

Like if we’re going with what we are told which is : Q didn’t know anything about it and his trust was abused by some higher admins. Then shouldn’t people THANK Lea and everyone who spoke up for being able to put an end to this situation ?

Shouldn’t Q and the remaining non-assholes higher up’s first reflex be to get in contact with the whistleblower to understand what exactly they went through, because of who, etc ? How do you fix a problem if you won’t ask the victims what the problem is ?

And yeah genuinely the « Thanks everyone for the free work for months ! actually we may not be able to afford you guys so please put your life on hold a little more we MAY tell you whether u still have a job or not one day ! » vibe is so terrible. Like while we don’t know everyone’s exact age, the admins seem to be relatively young, like you’ve ask free labor from 20-something yo fans who could have used their time and energy studying, getting actual money from another job or just doing whatever they wanted instead.

Not even a Thank you or a Sorry in his last statement after Pomme and Dapper quit. Just something like « Some people have and will leave the project it’s ok it’s how it is » NOT IN THESE CONDITIONS ??? This is what you say when someone quits because they want to explore something new not because they are burnt out and ignored 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

(Different anon, hello!) I think it’s interesting that u bring up Tong from MSI because I thought that was more of a case of Joe having been an orphan for a long time in his prev life, so family is obvi a sensitive spot for him in particular, not just about cultural values about family.

With that said, as a kinda aside and not really as a direct reply to everything you said to the other anon, (because I did see that u said it’s fine to have critiques towards how it’s handled), I get disappointed when shows don’t handle this nuanced topic about family unambiguously doing you wrong combined with this strong ingrained sense of loyalty and “but they’re still family”/filial piety.

Like there are ways to write forgiving family that is still not a clean open and shut “this character did something bad and got punished/suffers” but you still understand that they did something wrong and the character forgives them anyway. (Blueming)

Sorry I’m not sure where I’m going w this? But yeah idk, more complicated depictions of family dynamics 👍🏻 would love more of those

Hi Anon! Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

And yes, totally fair! There are definitely some limitations on what can be explored as a side plot, and I understand if people wish there was more depth. Family is immensely complicated, and we have seen Eastern shows break out of the mold before (Uea in Bed Friend for example), so there are varying perspectives even within the same culture, and I think that's great to explore.

I also think it's kind of interesting how a lot of us can watch the same scene and interpret it a little differently. I've seen some people seeing Yak's dad as making excuses and not taking any accountability, whereas I interpreted his apology and declaration of how proud he was of Yei as saying "I super fucked up and Yei is the only reason you two are ok now".

I also tend to be hyperaware that we are getting a translation of what is being said. GMMTV subs tend to be decent, but we know there is a lot of nuance being lost. And I do wonder if sometimes our complaints about lack of nuance are not about the actual writing of the show but more about the words we are given to understand it...

Anyway, loved reading your thoughts! And yes, I agree with MSI, I think Joe also has big feelings around the idea of orphan children! I was thinking more of if the narrative of the show doesn't punish Tong as severely as some of us want, I would not be surprised.

[mysicklove]

hi mello ! i’m feeling a bit bold (as far as bold goes considering i’m asking anonymously) i wanted to ask abt your opinion considering how yk like usually nsfw pages tend to strictly ban minors (rightfully so ofc) but then write content of characters who are minors aged up, and idk why but to me aging up the character never seemed right cuz doing so gives the space for others (like those ppl that would justify sexualizing young characters and then say ‘oh but they’re like this dragon hybrid thing so they’re actually 9000 years old) to use this as an excuse to make said nsfw content,,

but yeah,, no hate ofc !!!! just wanted to explore the reasoning behind aging up characters cuz i don’t fully understand it so i wanna hear someone else’s opinion and you seemed to be the most approachable

no pressure tho, if you don’t wanna answer that’s totally fine you don’t owe it to anyone x

take care !!

-🩰

hm. well, it’s because i literally do not give a fuck LOL

to me, it is drawings. they don’t have feelings, they don’t breathe, they aren’t human. they were made up. so, if they were made up to be a certain age by someone, what is stoping me from changing that age? they aren’t real…so idk man it just doesn’t seem immoral to me.

just like i age down characters for my big brother au, or i wrote a shit ton of characters as literal hybrids. it’s not real, so i can change characters in the way i see fit because i am an author. you are x reader fics, which in no way will ever be real, so i just don’t think that being able to change a characters age will do harm.

so when i see, for example, yuuji itadori, and i think that i am attracted to him, never in my mind does something flash the words “he is a minor” because to me…he isn’t, at least in my fics with him. it’s just the way you interpret it, and that’s what causes the “controversy” on tumblr.

i also see characters in my fics as prototypes? ig u can call it? with the same example, my yuuji x reader fics, he would look like yuuji itadori, act like yuuji itadori, but he isn’t. he isn’t written by gege, he isn’t animated by mappa. he is written by me, which means i have the power over him to do what i seen fit. if that is to write smut/romance, then he will be a adult, because I am an adult and i made this au. although neither of them are not real, they are two separate entities of each other

andddd this is completely different than minors irl. a drawing of something is completely different than a human being that is under the age of 18. tbh if you can’t separate fiction versus reality then…no offense but i do not see whoever you are as an intelligent being LOL. but that sounds mean, i am not bashing anyone who doesn’t agree with aging characters up, but it is the same people who bash on this who read/interact with dark content. like all of the sudden they can seprate fiction and reality when it regards to yandere…..

but like i said in the beginning, i don’t give a fuck what people do with my work.. if you want to interpret a character as a child, that’s disgusting, but it’s not my fault? if your mind is to think of a character as a child when reading smutty things, then you are sick in the head, but it’s not like my readings spurred it on. they will always be like that, regardless of what they are reading.

i write (95% of the time) for myself. i don’t see the character as a child, and honestly that’s all that matters to me at least. i can’t stop the small amount of people from having pedophilic thoughts about my work, but to be honest, i am not going to let that ruin my fun. i think about myself firstly — i am not a good person anon

hope this didn’t come across as rude, and when i say “you” i am not regarding you as yourself, ig i’m talking to people who shit on others who age characters up. not the people who disagree with it, and remain silent (respectful) about it

[narwhalandchill]

wuwa rambles incoming, on the negative side ish (?)

so i also ended up downloading wuwa to test it out despite being fairly confident in the assessment that it Will not be a long term thing for me (and yeah stand behind that one after day 1 and some today) and like

firstly yes the state of the game is in shambles lmao like it really wasnt finished in time for release in terms of performance and polish At All. on my side luckily the overall experience has been more or less okay on medium graphics with some glitches and a total of two crashes but its still like. this isnt an optimized game at all. ppl rly have been taking genshin being incredibly cautious with new systems and additions (so that the game actually Functions) for granted i suppose 💀 and or consistently taken the most uncharitable angle towards it . like yes we shouldve had xyz since forever but i 100% believe theres actual spaghetti code behind things taking long and that hoyo genuinely wants to be very careful w it for good reason. but yeah artifact presets where still

secondly as much as the world is like, pretty and vast with many sceneries that make for a beautiful vignette to Look at and all kinds of trinkets to run towards and engage w for that quick dopamine release, i think the fact that the story and lore of the world is just so fucking inconsequential and terribly communicated makes it just. Incredibly hard to Feel anything for it. its like a cake with stunning decorations except u take a bite and realize its all just fondant and no actual flavor. its just there. i dont have any thoughts nor feelings for it bc the worldbuilding is such a failure that i care neither for this place nor the characters whose stories are supposed to be selling me on the entire game. and that really sucks bc this place really Does look stunning in places and i Wish they would give me something to care about but its just the backdrop for the (admittedly fun) pokemon echo farm and ur exploration progress and the combat system

character-wise i also just dont mesh with vast majority of them much. they dont stand out enough from one another and no one except for like scar has actually made me very intrigued about anything at all regarding the world. designs vary from ugh to fine with some that i do like but they still arent like . the kind of Instant recognizable design that just Hits. they look fine but they lack the (jenshin) impact that makes you want to forfeit ur mortal possessions to them

now there is One (1) exception to this to be fair and thats sanhua but thats Literally just bc she is so fucking gender envy to me design wise. like its almost perfect just like that. literally if only her top wasnt open in the back . Id wear that shit SO hard for My scifi fantasy waves that wuther self insert oh my god. she looks like a middle school OC id make JSJSKSKDKUSKDK i love herrr literally the only reason i continue playing tbh . And she has ice powers too she is literally made For Me 💀

(jen forbidden lore tldr a niche finnish Banger of a fantasy book series that rewired my brain at 10 had an Excellently written girl protag who among other things gained op draconic ice powers of eternal winter and since then that simply became My main character daydream self elemental power of choice Always hsjsjsjskvkd)

the combat i think is where wuwa stands out and it definitely lets u engage more with the enemies. like ultimate evasion and counters Feel satisfying and building up ur characters unique mechanic like sanhuas ice constructs for her powered up charge atk Feels satisfying i def think theres a lot of potential there but in terms of A Future Meta in a gacha that wants money idk where things would ultimarely go in the future. but ya that stuff is solid.

enemy designs are also cool but suffer from that same lack of context to make me intrigued w the world theyre a part of. like cool eldritch creature ig but it doesnt give heebie jeebies the same way as seeing like. the husks in the chasm for the first time. where u instantly go oh fuck How. Why. Who were they. bc u know there Will be a relevant answer . etc . which is a shame. make me fear for my life smh

anyway for me my pulls have been like ridiculously bad i am genuinely not joking that getting sanhua on my first starter banner multi is the only reason i stuck w it. like. prior to this morning and getting aalto from the 20 free pulls . i have not received a Single non f2p new 4*. i have chixia c3 who i do Not like. yangyang c2. baizhi c1. Literally i kid you not the other new 4* i pulled today was . Yuanwu. so like considering the event and log in thats also c1 yuanwu c1 sanhua (latter of which i obvi have no issue w). and then my starter 5* was the worst case scenario 💀 Walmart gaming i mean. if u think hes cute cool but i am not at All enthused. id have taken Anyone over him lmao

so thats fun . i mean its fine im not gonna play long term i like sanhua and playing her w baizhi and someone like yangyang or aalto its fine for what i intend to do w it for now. & none of the future 5* rly appeal to me either

ultimately the game definitely has potential but it just. released too soon in a shoddy state and in many ways (mostly relating to its open world) i think is too reliant on just resembling genshin without actually innovating on top of that foundation or distinguishing itself from it. and the failure of its story to make players care about its world At All doesnt help. Do i think the world and lore are shit w 0 potential? well obviously no bc its so poorly communicated i cant even fucking tell you what it is About. but any possible potential there was definitely not utilized how it should so eh

now personally i have absolutely no horse in this toxic drama clownfest of a gacha game war arms race other than its not worth the time nor effort. so i truly have no particular feelings of fervent support nor some schadenfreude about kuro and for competitions sake i Do hope they manage to salvage the situation and that wuwa manages to flourish in the end but ironically enough the genshin "killer" number two more or less seems to have went the way of the other one aka ToF. so thats something i suppose lmao

Like there is something very painfully ironic about it all and it is hysterical in that sense. at least that much i can admit hsiajsks. But truly if some ppl find that wuwa offers them sth better than genshin then good for em, dont let my highly lukewarm reception ruin ur enjoyment. just end the fucking drama farm and disingenuous claims to gas up ur own cope and hype

(and to be clear. i would Not have played like 8 hours yesterday if i wasnt genuinely engaged w trying the game out and having fun lol. its just very clear to me that this early rush of ADHD dopamine oh new game new things to burn through new exploration shinies short term quick fun is very likely all wuwa is going to have on offer for me personally)

anyway thats just me so feel free to share yalls thoughts too if ud like

[elegyofthemoon]

MORE GUSH PASS FOR YOU BC YOU'VE BEEN ENJOYING THEM SO MUCH AND I'VE BEEN ENJOYING READING THEM!!! 🎟️🎟️🎟️

also thank u for ur tags on the kylilah wedding fic i'm ;A; waAaAaAAAA meliora crying.png ilysm

TY I LOVE YOU and i love abusing these gush passes so much when i'm like "i need to write a whole essay right now to express my feelings or i will set myself on fire" so guess what you're about to get.

But anyhows~ of course!! ^7^ kylilah wedding fic was just so cute how could I resist reading all of it and commenting? the writing was just so beautiful and so perfect ;; v;;

I accidentally went off to Sophia about Birthright!Leo specifically and yes, sure, I haven't touched Fates in a while (last time I did I'm pretty sure it was for. March? OR FOR LEO'S BIRTHDAY ACTUALLY.), and I genuinely thought I forgot everything tbh because of fixation on coughs Other Matters coughs but talking to Sophia and watching myself slip a bunch of thoughts made me go "ohhhh oh no you're still insane about Fates and Leo specifically... cool cool cool cool-"

Something that'll always come to mind when it comes to Leo is just how much internal conflict the guy must have with feeling like he has to Fit A Specific Function to matter to anyone but also wanting to have someone to talk to - someone who wouldn't put him down for being "weak." And when the "fitting a specific function" is the "reliable one" or the "strong one", then it becomes hard to really allow himself a chance to really allow himself to be vulnerable. He basically creates his own issues this way and it sucks more because I feel like this only gets worse for Birthright!Leo who later becomes king and now the whole country's relying on him. Like how does that play out for a guy with his whole complex exactly?

There was a "work in progress" fic that I had wanted to write that basically was supposed to be a snapshot of his life growing up, following after him and this Need to be Needed, coming from his time with his mom and the way I thought about how she must have raised him and how that plays into who he is today, but I think that fic got shot up in flames due to New Knowledge Acquired That Made Me Want To Stab the Fic With a Knife. normal. real normal snow. Which I will not get into because I actually didn't finish the whole context because I was just eheh~ a littleeee~ mad but that's fine lmao we're fine lolololol we're totally cool 👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼(sobbing on the floor)

He's very fun to write for this reason though. Finding ways to balance out between this internal struggle at a given situation makes him very very attractive to write lol At least I try my best to do so anyhow haha I don't necessarily feel that my writing does him a disservice, but I do feel like it borders between weighing in too much into certain aspects of his character instead of holding the true weight he has, but that's a conflict I'm willing to put up with if it means getting to explore his character a little more in my head lmao

And sorry to track back, but I also think a lot about like. the affection with his family. I think a lot about how in his support with Corrin and Camilla, he expresses how much he wished to have the same attention that Corrin does; he just isn't sure how to do it unless the emotions were bubbling from his mouth and he speaks at a breaking point, to which he'll try to mend it with a "Apologies. That was unlike me. Anyways-" and tries to move onto something else LITERALLY JUST TALK DUDE!!!!!! COMMUNICATE WHAT YOU NEED!!!!!!!!!!

But he doesn't. He doesn't because time's told him that if he voices his own weakness he will get punished for it. It's something that I had contemplated specifically about how he was raised by his mom, and only to find out that that is also something he was raised to believe within the royal family (via the voice drama that I had to actually stop watching because I was just sad). He can't allow himself to be weak because he is always expected to be strong.

And for that reason, the name "Leo" is very fitting for him, I think. There's a really really good fanartist's comic on his name and it definitely contributed to the way I appreciate his naming and temporarily served as inspiration for the way I was going to take the fic, but you know. Didn't go anywhere.

I also just wish he knew he was loved. It's very clear his family loves him, but the way he was raised misconstrues this "love" for "shame". Yes we all tease Leo because he's so strict on himself and it's nice to see him have little flaws here and there. We poke fun at it and all, but how does that feel for Leo who's probably had his flaws shamed most if not all his life? It's the reason why he's so strict on himself after all, and they wonder why it is he's so strict on himself.

Anyways. Long story short, and quite the winding road, I love Leo's character a lot. I kinda forgot how much I did until Sophia and my conversation kinda wandered over to Fates talk and then Leo and I had to sit down and cry for like. Several paragraphs apparently about it

And the thing is, I'm not exactly sure if this is all intentional writing or if I just fixated so hard and made stuff up that this is the version that makes the most sense to me for his character. At the very least, all of this serves as the backbone to the way I write him. And as I said: it's very fun :)

But anyways, TY for the ask

[rwqv]

real i feel like mahitos defeat was so underwhelming... like that absolutely sick ass scene of the bunny and the wolf was so cool and then wtf ... he gets Eaten by kenny .... like ok what evverrrr just write the best written villain ive ever seen and then give him such an underwhelming death

brah i love noritoshi kamo why did his parents name him that he did nofing wrong ...... he was just a boy stressed out but he gets soooooooooo fine later in the manga .......

no like sometimes gege's writing is so amazing and sometimes its .. Interesting ..... like i dont think he should kill off all of the favorites just for kicks n giggles ... but it was a miracle bringing back my goat kugisaki

yess bro i agree they all have such cool powers like i would KILL for takaba's cursed technique i find everything funny ....

ur so right i dunno how he'll do it all in 5 chapters like i dont wanna go thru 200 something chapters just for like a fast forward to play or something .... but i rem,ember reading something about how gege apparently said that jjk would either end with everyone dying and yuji living, or everyone living and yuji dying which scares me cus nobaras back .... AND ALL THOSE SPECULATIONS ABOUT MEGUMI'S TIGER PARADE LIKE OH GODD NOOO MY ITAFUSHIII

NO LIKE ............. i hate naoyas personality bad booooo sexism boooooooo noooo terrible ... HOWEVER ................................ hes a little hot sorry

the lineart thing is so real like it looks traced even tho its my own art like i dont know how people do lineart without it looking weirddd .. and sugar baby gojo i luv him

everyone hated mahito for a reason!!! becuase hes a good villain and at least he kills because it is his nature as a curse. i loved the comparison that was drawn between him and yuji i felt like it was eye opening. i thought yuji would at least get to rip his skin off but noooo daddyjaku had to come in at the last moment and just... eat him??! that doesnt complete the cycle vro

I SAW THE THING ABOUT MEGUMIS TIGER PARADE THAT WAS SO SAD i think yujis death is inevitable though.... think about it

gojo was often compared to yuji and yuji + megumi and gojo + geto comparisons are prominent throughout the manga.. train scenes, personality, even like dynamics (gojo/yuji brings simplicity and fun into geto/megumis life while they bring the complexity of being human and not just being a killing machine... fleshing out each others characters, geto/megumi depression, gojo + geto becoming inhabited while yuji + megumi became vessels for sukuna, the trio vs. the other trio, gojo/yuji seen as the strongest in their respective senses while geto/megumi use other creatures (shikigami/cursed spirits), being underestimated but actually also extremely strong and i could go ON) but if gojo died in the great sukuna fight i think yuji will too. esp with the last words with his grandpa, plus the idea when he first fought the first special grade cursed spirit that he didnt want to die and he was going to die with regrets... i think gege might do the last stand of yuji and he will sacrifice himself for the greater good. seems like a way to end jjk to me

i bet u 2$ gege does a flashback to sukuna's heian era that shows him in his prime and shows his character and his sad backstory after sukuna gets defeated

if gojo gets revived i think there will be at least this one way as a possibility: he isnt the strongest anymore due to a binding vow or smth and he is content with living his life as he is weaker. its a trope i really hope doesnt happen with gojo but itd allow for his humanity to sink in more

i hate how gege just kills off his most beloved characters for fun. mei mei next please!

i think it would have been cool to explore some clan dynamics and how they used to work or something else bro please like youve got the whole gojo clan what happened with them???! gojos mom and dad are probably hotties and we wont get to see them

i totally get the shitty personality hottie in body tho thats relatable

but i guess this was all our jujutsu kaisen

[matoitech]

actually im just gonna list some shit out right now that i cant get out of my brain. its not one of those things i think ppl should necessarily check out for themselves to see what i mean, cuz its not like FUN bizarre or bad choices. some things r understandable for being like an indie furry novel but some things r just so atrocious or nonsensical you dont get a pass

theres a lot like just vaguely weird bullshit that the author brings up in the text like 'yeah i know it sounds weird but just dont worry about it!' (ex: the bio soldiers arent really siblings, but theyre kiiiinda siblings, or at least SOME of them view each other that way, but the ones that need to not view each other that way for the romances in the plot dont???) and youre just like, well, this was Written by someone, you CHOSE to write it that way when you did not need to, so am i supposed to just assume you wrote it that way for a reason? or did you just genuinely not think that far ahead? theyre grown in a vat, you didnt have to do this

so many things in this that did not have to be there at all and at the timeid think 'maybe this is there for a reason and is going to be explored later, maybe its there on purpose to be weird and Say Something about the character doing it or whatever' but it was not. some examples off the top of my head that i wont get into further bcuz this post is long enough as is: bryce and the creepy guard on the space prison (homophobic stereotypes that make me wonder what the hell is going on w the i ASSUME gay dude writing this), shep telling kesondra who was a teenager at the time she was 'mature for her age' w writing that makes me wonder how the hell that was meant to read (HOW DID ALARM BELLS NOT GO OFF? ARE WE SUPPOSED TO /LIKE/ SHEP?), bryce not recogizning holly now as an adult woman as the kid he saved once and other characters making jokes abt him flirting w her (THE CHARACTERS DONT KNOW, BUT THE READER KNOWS. HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO COME OFF?) why r u making these stupid in universe explanations for what feels like either a poor attempt at 'oh gross, thats weird in context!' 'jokes' later, or you just wanting an excuse to be weird or something?

two of its most massive glaring issues were present with like, the first chapter, when i realized this adult novel said a made up work for 'fuck' in the furry dog universe, and they say the made up word for fuck a LOT, and women are written so bad i thought i stepped backwards into the 1950s. the way women r written is way worse than them not saying the word fuck but it stands out so much i couldnt not mention it

i rly cannot stress the bizarre way the like 4 women in this book r treated enough. their interactions with other women and internal monologues have that pretty typical 'guy who has never rly given much thought to women as People thinks women feel about themselves and each other and their bodies etc' thing. i mean im saying this as a guy but its very blatant and basic misogyny its not hard to notice when ur also a man and point out. theyre referred to as 'dogesses' instead of dogs (dog is only reserved for the men, i guess) so u know right out the gate what brand of misogyny is going down. i dont think any of them have been described as wearing pants the entire book (apparently all women in this wear dresses). the male characters will randomly call them shit like either 'sweetheart' or 'bitch' apparently and it doesnt feel like youre supposed to think the guys r weird or creepy or shitty for this??? maybe shitty for the bitch thing but sweetheart honey darlin gets by totally fine? theyre not getting decked for that?

THE POTENTIAL RAINE HAS AS A CHARACTER THAT ISNT EXPLORED AT ALL MAKES ME WANT TO PUT MY HEAD THROUGH A WALL. I COULD WRITE A WHOLE OTHER ESSAY. i will say this tho, if i was writing this she would be trans

im like 400-500 (i dunno i havent checked) pages into the book and i cant really figure out a read on most of the politics in something that i was under the impression would be kinda political drama-y. theres like, a startling lack of politics in a book that DESPERATELY needs politics. i dont think the author has really wanted to worldbuild that far so you just get implications that there are politics going on, or the characters tell you that directly, or plot points happen that MUST be politically driven, but god forbid you find out why, i guess. maybe at the end.

indie furry novels need editors really really bad. it does that thing stuff thats really long that doesnt need to be that long does where it wanders around for 100 pages and then suddenly some shit is introduced and you can FEEL the author remembering the plot or realizing that he forgot to explain something 300 pages ago. some of the characters suddenly all start talking abt their sexualities like midway thru it bcuz the author forgot to mention it before, i guess? its kind of hard to tell when someone is actually gay or bisexual or when the other characters are just being homophobic for some reason. there r bases for good characters and story and worldbuilding but it doesnt reaaaally want to get into it enough for ALL its words and pages to make all that meandering feel worth it

i understand that so much of this is apparently just like middle aged british (??) cisgender (i assume, i would be in MISERY if this guy wasnt cis and writing like this) gay man male power fantasy and the extremely buff dudes he finds attractive but there is so much like lack of introspection the author has done and too much 'i did this cuz i thought it was hot and not bcuz it made ANY sense at all' like i am NOT against stuff existing in media bcuz the author thinks it'd be fun or sexy (when its done like, without being bigoted or smth, obviously) but when characters that r meant to be very smart do not think through like very basic things most ppl would think about (sasuke doesnt want to fuck w the x dogs programming too much and possibly ruin them, but he doesnt think anyones going to notice him bringing the same dogs back to life over and over, being the same age, and those dogs being MASSIVELY FUCKING HUGE AND RIPPED SUPER SOLDIERS? nostalgia can only explain away leaving them basically untouched and sasuke not caring if anyone noticed so much. i know theyre mostly penned but you'd think they'd take more precautions. they really dont give a fuck tho for some reason) and the book doesnt really want to ask those questions i just think like why didnt u get this edited??

the amount of ableism in this makes me feel like this man has literally never spoken to or seen a disabled person around him at all ever in his life. but theres just an undercurrent of general 'intersectionality isnt a word in my vocabulary' so thats kind of a given

the x dogs r also 'out of the box' as adults but the way theyre written w age and development and stuff is very weird i really could write a whole other thing about this

the fade to black sex scenes r so embarrassing for something that screams written for adult men. you cant even say fuck

theres like a moment when toby, a gay male character whose clothing style seems to be vaguely androgynous says smth like 'im not THAT far gone' as a joke about wearing heels or something. i hated it. that sentence encapsulated most of my biggest problems w this book bcuz it really just feels like this author has never bothered to talk to literally anyone with an even remotely different life experience than him. its also giving internalized homophobia like half the time. its so confusing i cant even tell if this was meant to be transphobic, bcuz again youre meant to LIKE these people

there r literally so many interesting things you could say about characters that are LIVING WEAPONS and how they feel about this, the dehumanization theyve experienced at the hands of the state or scientists creating and using them for war etc, but for some reason it doesnt really want to 'say' much of anything, at least so far?? its BOGGLING. there r probably way more things i could expand on or talk about (i could talk about specific characters even) but i need to cut myself off. i feel like i have more thoughts about what any of this Means than the guy writing it had writing like almost a thousand pages or whatever of Words

so i have been reading dogs of mars for like a full year bcuz its a Lot to get thru not even in length (tho yes its long) but in that a lot of the time its taken me so long bcuz ive had to put it down and just sit there thinking 'what was this guy thinking? what is going on?' ive been finishing it at all mostly bcuz i think i need to write a collection of my thoughts once im done. which mostly means my criticisms. because wow i have a lot of thoughts.

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S��just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[crimeronan]

can I ask how you met your partners, or if you have any advice for meeting folks? I'm queer and physically disabled and I just feel like I'll be alone forever.

i'm a little sleepy but will try to answer this as concisely as i can

i met all of my partners online! i've conducted the vast majority of my social life online since i was about 12 for various reasons (ugly child, autism, bad at irl social, isolated in rural hell, etc)

and i met each partner through mutual interests like writing & fandom. we became friends thru that and then were eventually like you know what?? life commitment time baybey

none of my relationships have been rooted in Wanting A Relationship. i just met people i mesh with and they mesh with me and we work well together and we decided to keep doing that indefinitely

as for meeting people, the only advice i can give is what worked for me, which might not be true for you. as mentioned i have been terminally online for more than half of my life. and am not normal. but here goes

1) let go of the goal of Meeting Your Person

nothing wrong with wanting to meet your person or working to do so -- but if you equate socializing with "i have to make this work" and "i have to meet someone" and "if i don't click with anyone i'll be lonely forever"...... that is So Much pressure.

not only will it make you anxious, but it'll create enormous pressure for any friendship/relationship you end up in. and if things get too intense too fast bc of that pressure, & the other person turns out not to be who you hoped they were, that heartbreak will make the anxiety and loneliness way worse. it'll be harder to try again (but not!!!! impossible!!!!!)

2) vibe over common interests

pretty much every strong friendship i've ever had has had Some mutual interest as a foundation. a mutual interest gives you guys something to talk about. and something to get excited about!

cannot even express how much more relaxed i am when i go into a social situation like "fuck yeah, i'm gonna infodump about my blorbos" instead of "oh god theyre new and i'm out of practice and what will they think of me and what if i fuck up and how do i be funny enough and how do i make them like me-"

like. don't seek out people for the sake of people. seek out people for the sake of being excited and happy about non-people things... with company!! flap with friends

3) group settings are Amazing

a lot of my closest friendships and relationships have spawned out of group settings: discord servers, large open RP rooms, niche forums populated by the same band of teenage regulars every day.

again, this might not be what works for you. but for me, group socialization removes a lot of pressure to Perform, while still giving me room to participate. and then i'll usually find even more niche common ground with a handful of people in a group setting. and that's what turns into DMs and creative collaboration and 3am yelling and shared new media and emotional support and then sometimes, by accident, committed life partnerships

my whole social life from age 12 to now can be summarized by me finding an online clique of total weirdos, vibing with them, and then getting great connections out of that. lather rinse repeat ad infinitum

and that's.... all i've got for u, i think. life is definitely not hopeless. people don't need to be everything all at once, you don't need anyone to be everything all at once. breathe, let some of the pressure go, enjoy yourself where you can. there's a lot to explore and a bright future full of possibilities left. you're going to be fine

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! I have kind of a dumb question, every time I masturbate I never really find myself enjoying it, like for some reason I can never get in the mood or whatever, so I don’t really do it that often. But I also just got into a relationship, so my question is does me not really enjoying masturbation mean I won’t enjoy sex either? Or should I try to change the way I masturbate or something? Kind of confused, sorry if this is an uncomfortable question, if so feel free to not respond. Thank u either way!!

hi anon,

you MUST be new here if you think this is the most uncomfortable question I've ever received. pull up a seat, let's hammer this out.

let me just say this first and foremost: you don't need to change the way you masturbate. masturbating is, much like jogging, completely optional. I've tried to be a person who likes jogging, but it fundamentally sucks ass. I never actively want to do it, making myself do it never feels bad, and afterwards my thoughts are never "YAY I'm so glad I did that," but rather "jesus fuck I hated every second of that. boo, jogging is evil."

what I'm getting at here is that trying to jog in a different way isn't going to help if I fundamentally think jogging sucks shit.

having said that - hating jogging doesn't mean that I dislike every form of physical activity. swimming is fun, when I have the opportunity. yoga makes me feel amazing. and I walk as often as I can, often with no particular destination in mind. I like those, because they're totally different types of activity.

likewise, partnered sex can be a totally different beast than masturbation. they don't have nothing in common, and things you learn while doing either can be helpful when you're doing the other one, but the experiences are very different, because as soon as you add other people to the mix is becomes a fundamentally different activity.

so, will you like having sex with another person? well, I don't know. how on earth would I know that? you might! you also might not! either one is totally fine.

probably the best person to talk about this with is whoever you're in this relationship with, whenever the time feels right to be talking about sex. might I recommend this lengthy metaphor I wrote about exploring sexuality with a partner as a starting point? it's getting a lot of love tonight.

[gayspock]

okay tldr im just kinda ... eye twitch at that whole parter LOL

like ehrhgh. SO preface: i think its always the case with "cliff hangers" wherein the reason why they fall flat so often is, like, if the actual cliffhanger itself is so... perfunctory. like they just do it because they felt like they had to leave us hanging on some tense situation - but the thing is, like? you dont NEED to orchestrate that, man; you already had our attention. so its so stupid then if like... they just resolve the situation in 0.2 seconds in the next episode. but its like yknow... its sth a lot of shows do unncessarily and ultimately if it is just a really weird blip when transitioning between eps its like. whatever.

BUT thats all to say... the end of s3 COULD have been a good use of a cliffhanger, yeah? because it's establishing, like, a pretty specific situation with longer lasting consequences than just saving someone from immediate danger in the first scene. but then they FUMBLEDDD ti like...

ough you set up sth genuinely kinda neat. i dont know why they walked it back so fast AND also made the things they did right less effective. like they open up s4 with john sooo alone and its genuinelykinda tragic but then by the end of the ep chiana's already back and its like so what... and then they all IMMEDIATELY reconnect next ep and its like- they dont even really get a proper freaking reaction, when its implied john's been out there alone for god knows how long on a dying ship like... its like nothing happened and

its like. i just feel like if ur not going to utilise the situations you construct - bc this is fiction, and you do construct the situations - why.... construct them? bc if you were gonna reunite everyone with so few consequences, we could have instead spent more time where it was worth instead. but no... and tbh that makes the cliffhanger thing even WORSE bc now u have to waste time walking it back to reset it... and its also a loss of momentum, you know? like- i know im bingeing this, so its a different viewing experience so maybe momentum isnt the right word, but yeah...i guess it just sort of sets the expectations and tone totally out of whack with what they initially establish and not in a good/intentional way

especiallyyyy bc then these two eps after ep 1... arghh!! bc of that they already are building off a strange foundation - but then with these, everything feels so rushed and sloppy. i genuinely had to check- did they kno abt cancellation, pre-production? bc i thought they were trying to speed through it but... naur, like...

farscape in the past has been one of the few shows to pull off the "just fucking throw EVERYTHING IN THERE!" bc it knows how to move quickly, and matter of factly but here its just like... stuff was just weak. i think, usually, when it DOES introduce a lot fast it knows how to really build them up. it uses super simple concepts and then layers them really well. here, not so much... i feel like the whole planet situation was, eh, contrived? is that the best word for it? its introducing a lot of weird mechanics to how it works- and maybe that'd be fine, usually, but again with everything else going on its like they introduce way too much, too fast. like oo-nii, also- i really loved the design, actually, loved the colour, but also kinda a really strange addition in here.

and i hthink its worsened with grammy granola grime bc i SAID I LIKED HER, I DO, but ive always felt with the more "spiritual aspects" (for lack of a better word) such as stark and zhaan they come close but also they kinda ... dont... pull it off ever. SORRY lol. i mean stark- actually stark did have some really good stuff in his first introduction, but i feel like its always so ill-defined in the bad way where it sort of feels like their nebulous abilities are used moreso to plaster over places in stories where they didnt know what to do rather than an actual exploration into something more interesting . like theres always a very shaky core to them- and that kinda sucks, bc you do NEED something even if you are trying to go for mystery or surrealism bc theres a difference between that and just kinda. yeah. anyways

thats all to say like. all of these issues and again entrenching some really important and heavy subject matter... EEK...!

like even just the minor shit. jool and d'argo. eh, man. just burnt through the whole damn thing in this ep... OK, LOL. IDC ABOUT IT? sorry... i just think its so weird how they handle other romances bc johnaeryn are so fucking organic and well-paced and claudia and ben do such a good job with the intimacy between them that just makes it real as fuck whereas like... everyone else is strange, man... eh. why'd you do it. come on man. its a shame bc i praised them in s1 bc they were pretty normal about zhaan and d'argo- kinda saying "oh, there's tension sometimes but otherwise its like eh theyre not super into it theyre just chilling as friends tbh" which is a dynamic that i actually find refreshing tbh... the more casual nature of it, yeah? as its told moreso through subtext and interactions whereas its like man what the fuck. everything with dargo otherwise has been, like, just so tell not show wtf...

and the major shit. i know the confirmation that jool's species are related to humans somehow is important. but its like... amongst this whole ep that whole thing really didnt have any impact bc like i said. its kinda all over. uhm. idk how i feel abt that. uhm well ... i dont like it. ok. SORRY. LOL.

but thats less so about it being done here even if it wasnt so good andmoreso i dont really want... them to be related... i dont know. what i liked about farscape was how it treated humans- john was never something special in the way trek always put "HUMANITTYYY" on a pedestal and forced the universe through human's perspective and culture and morality etc.... i really fucking hope it isnt some, like, "humans are their great ancestors" type of thing, that'd be the worst - ive had enough of that through shitty dw fan theories

and also just, like, in general ughghghg i DONT LIKE it when like.. there's a whole univers,e yes? its so infinitely huge and... well idk if it's coincedental, yet, but i dont like how small it makes the universe feel when it just so happensss that its humans like... AGAIN i think it detracts from whats established already, about how crichton is so far away from everything hes ever known ... it makes everything so much smaller in perspective and its just... ssorry to 🤓 but its soo 🤓unrealistic! AND YES YES YES its a damn fiction show- but i mean... within the established show, is what imean, bc i dont really care about technicalities USUALLY until then yeah its actually affecting the narrative where i think it is here and anyways thats speculation bc

AND OK

CANT SKIP AROUND IT

HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER

right the thing is i said it yesterday. i am not against them deciding to have *that* happen to john, in any capacity. there are respectful and meaningful ways you can explore that type of thing with care.

and its odd. bc i look at the time period this was done - and fucking hell, even comparing it to now - and theres stuff with the execution here thats... and i hesitate to say it, but it's almost... good... like.. im talking specifically about john's reaction and performance bc- god, even nowadays i feel like in media it doesnt always... get handled, well? but god- john doesnt take it well, and it isnt brushed off by the *narrative* in some parts (ehrm).. like i meanthe show knows that thats really fucked up, it acknowledges johns pain, and god like. i dont know; mauybe ben browder's performance was carrying, there, but what i mean is like.. even now i feel like with men, this type of thing isnt taken seriously or depicted like this with the grace given in PARTS of this, but also like...

GOD WITH EVERYTHING GOING ON. AND ALSO... D'ARGOS REACTION. UHM. LIKE EVERYONE ELSE'S- that just felt so fucking wrong, man. like jesus. and i mean, well, i think sometimes people do project a morality onto characters - expect a perfect reaction to things like this, when thats just not how people are, yknow - and i wouldnt want that either if it wasnt true, as i think an important aspect of this conversation IS reaction/others' perception but.. THIS? COME ON, MAN.. that whole bit is brushed off andits... icky which... again if d'argo and co misunderstood/brushed it off normally i'd be fine but its also like- the show itself brushes off them brushing it off, is my issue? no rumination on their reaction, which as i said an important aspect of that but... yeah. yeah.

and yeah. the thing in the first place- its also just sort of... ugh. like unnecessary. like- bc it isnt really reflected on much here it jsut... i dont think its shock-value territory, but it just feels like kind of a pointless jump to make - something a bit needlessly..,cruel... to approach such a serious topic when you really dont have the space to properly handle that kind of thing right now. and also its not- like from a story perspective it isnt... establishing anything, man, like... you could still have grayza domineering and even have her still like manipulate people through some similar means without that added layer (or hell, even everything up until that part with crichton i was kinda unnerved by but it didnt cross a line for me) and it would still be as effective. its not like the aurora chair or the neural clone wherein the consequences of them both have longstanding implications and do actually properly escalate-escalate, here its just like... alright lets just.. yeah. ok....

anyways

im kinda annoyed jool is now leaving like did her actress wanna go i mean thats okay if thats the case but like i dont like the revolving door character situation we've been having with regards to introducing new people like i just think it'd be fine man if you didnt. LOL

anyways

this isall so negative nancy SORRY LOLLLL im still having fun ofc its just OUGH... i swear, every opener i go through kind of a . ughhpart. at least it feels that way- maybe im misremembering