#started this one last year; promptly got sidetracked

[neotibicen-linnei]

adding more to my fave jacket so she's ready for folk punk fall

[secret-engima]

So I started RWBY (thanks for that, it’s all from you), and I gotta say I love Yang. So are there any Dragon!Yang rambles you have? What about lunweiss too?

It’s been a while since I enjoyed a show like this, it’s nice

Hi!!! Welcome aboard!! And not to taint your opinions but just- idk I feel obligated to warn you that while I 100% recommend V1-V5, V6 is emotionally hard (and has plot points I am Not Happy With) and V7 is just ... a train wreck. A wonderfully animated, woefully badly written train wreck. And I’ve yet to watch v8 so I have no idea what’s going on THERE beyond Oscar being a Suffering Sunshine Boi.

But yes! Headcanons!!!! Also apologies for any spoilers I mention for the show in these? I don’t know where you are in the show and I’ve already talked a lot of spoilers I’m sure XD.

Dragon Yang:

-Yang is excited to go to Beacon actually. Nervous and dreading it, but excited. She’s learned over the two years since returning to Remnant how to manage her strength and limit her lethality, how to hide the worst of her ... odd behaviors. She wants to make new friends, and she’s hoping to see Velvet there (Yang transfers to Velvet’s combat school in this AU and makes friends with her by accident). But she’s also dreading the “living in dorms with strangers” thing.

-Then she learns Ruby is getting to join early and she oscillates between HECK YES SIBLING TEAM HERE WE COME to MY BABY SISTER IS NOT READY FOR THIS. PROTECC. Of course, she’s been training Ruby these last two years too, because she’s afraid of her own strength but she’s more afraid of Ruby being unprepared for the dangers of the world. Ruby will never be a STELLAR hand to hand but she can fight mean and run away and her parkour skills have reached ninja levels even without her Semblance.

-Now she just has to get on the same team as her sister.

-She’s honestly ... highly amused by the initiation exam? Like- yeah sure fling the DRAGON SLAYER off a CLIFF and expect her to be alarmed. Psh.

-She means to track down Ruby and is will on her way to doing so when she runs into Blake first. That’s ... a little annoying. She doesn’t even know this girl’s name (Yang never dragged Ruby off to make friends during the pre-initiation sleepover thing in this AU) but it’s not Blake’s fault so.

-Also, on the note of Blake lemme just sidetrack to point out something interesting in Yang’s mentality. She can tell the moment she smells Blake that Blake is a Faunus.

-She still doesn’t think of her as a Faunus. Because- to Yang, she genuinely doesn’t .... really understand the difference between Faunus and human? To her everyone is human, some of them just have extra bits and more useful senses. And this is a TOTALLY UNCONSCIOUS MENTALITY from back when she was living on Earthland. Because in Earthland, people can look really, really weird (especially in the magic community) and yet they are all still called “humans” and are still treated perfectly normal. Like this girl from canon Fairy Tail show-

That tail and those ears are 100% real, they move and react like actual limbs in the anime, but they weren’t always THERE. When that character was teeny, she looked like a “normal” human, but her magic is feline oriented and so over the years those traits GREW on her. And literally NO ONE BATS AN EYE IN THE SHOW. Not even the people who knew her when she was tiny non-cat human child. She’s far from the only example, but she’s the easiest to think of especially in regards to the Faunus thing.

-So yeah, Yang smells feline traits on Blake and just- doesn’t even react. Doesn’t mention it to anyone because her brain skips right over “cat ears = Faunus” in this world and goes straight to “ah yes, my new 100% nonmagical human teammates. My Sister, Ice Child, and Girl With Decent Hearing Thank Goodness”.

-So while Blake thinks she’s keeping her Faunus traits a secret from her whole team, her partner Yang is just vibing off to the side, perfectly aware that Blake has cat ears but still thinking of her and every other Faunus as regular ol’ humans.

-Yang doesn’t abandon Ruby at the entrance to Beacon either, so Weiss made a ... bad impression on Yang very quickly for yelling at Ruby’s sister for an accident. Yang shut that whole thing down pretty fast, but Ruby was still feeling humiliated and nervous and Weiss was prickly and embarrassed by Yang’s blunt opinions.

-Yeah it’s a good thing they can bond via Nevermore killing because otherwise this team would be way more dysfunctional than it is in the first few days.

-Yang has mixed opinions on Team JNPR. It is painfully clear Jaune has no idea what he’s doing, but frankly she has her hands full with her own team atm and no time to try to gently bully this boy into proper training. She makes a note to do it later. Pyrrha smells lonely and she’s a sweetheart. Nora is wayyyy to prone to getting into Yang’s (and everyone’s) personal space. Ren is nice. He has manners and he smells of tea.

-There’s a scene early on where this guy called Cardin bullies Velvet for her ears by grabbing them and pulling them and I’ve never like how none of the main characters or anyone else try to hELP.

-Ergo, when that scene happens, Yang promptly gets up, twists Cardin’s wrist so that he lets Velvet’s ear go, then picks him up by the back of his shirt and flings him right through the farthest cafeteria window she can aim at from this angle. When his team of fellow bullies take it poorly, she proceeds to throw them through other windows.

-Her only defense when taken to the Headmaster’s office to face down Glynda and a very bemused Ozpin is that 1. at least she didn’t break their jaws or bones like she did the first time she caught someone bullying Velvet, 2. Professor Goodwitch can fix the windows with telekinesis to it’s not like the school was actually damaged and 3. if the Headmaster can fling people off cliffs for initiations, she can fling people through windows for being moronic bullies that needed spanking when they were five and spoiled but never got it.

-Goodwitch is not amused. Ozpin, on the other hand, is highly amused by trying not to show it. Yang can smell it and sense it in his magic tho.

-Yang, later in the dorms, more to herself then anyone, “So Velvet was born with one more pair of ears than most humans have, that’s no reason to be a jerk. I mean come on, he was born with a dumb face but I left him alone until he made the first move.”

-Blake: *vague staticky brain noises of confusion* “She’s ... a Faunus.”

-Yang: Gesundheit.

-Yang meeting Ironwood is gonna be-

-Fun.

-Because she first meets him in v2/v3 when he shows up for the Vytal Festival and brings an army with him and it makes Yang’s instincts SCREECH. This is OZPIN’S territory and this random general man is stomping all over it, bringing his army with him like some kind of power statement and she is immediately ready to Throw Hands with this man on Ozpin’s behalf just out of PRINCIPLE. So when she goes up to visit him at one point and finds Ironwood already there, she ignores the conversation she interrupted by arriving, points at Ironwood and goes, “Is this guy bothering you, Headmaster? Should I through him out the window? Or down the elevator shaft?”

-Ironwood is stunned that a student just- SAYS THAT. Ozpin, who has already gotten to know Yang enough to know that her social default setting is “subtle as a brick that’s been dunked in gasoline and set on fire”, sighs, “I’m fine, Yang. This is General Ironwood from Atlas.”

-Yang clicks her tongue and cracks her knuckles, “I know who he is, he’s the guy who showed up and cluttered up your skies with those rattling junk heaps he calls an army. It’s why I asked if you wanted me to throw him.”

-Ironwood, truly aghast, “Excuse me?”

-(ngl I DO like Ironwood and feel like they did his character dirty in v7 and likely v8 but, especially in v2/v3 he does have a bit of a arrogance problem)

Lunweiss:

-Weiss probably confuses so many people at Beacon. She is a Schnee, so while people are expecting some measure of dignity they are also expecting snobbery or brattiness and instead she’s just- the sweetest, mildest person under her reserve?

-Jaune still has a huge crush on her, she firmly but gently informs him that she’s just not interested. When he is slow to take the hint she gets upset, but that just means she withdraws in on herself.

-Yang, activating her Big Sister instincts: Yo, Jaune. I like you, you’re a good friend. But if you don’t drop it then I’m going to drop kick you off the top of Beacon Tower.

-Jaune: o.o yes ma’am.

-Lunweiss has had ... something of a deprived childhood in both lives. I don’t mean physically, because of course as Oracle and then as Heiress she had the best clothes and finest foods, but just- in the ordinary Teenage Life Experience. Things like video games and board games, carnival food, shopping with friends- she doesn’t have any real experiences like that? So obviously, as soon as Team RWBY realizes this (aka the day they’re lounging around the dorm and Luna asks what “these” are, “these” being Yang’s and Ruby’s collection of video games), they set out to do All The Fun Things with Weiss. Even Blake gets in on it when she comes to the somewhat stunning realization that the life experience even she, the Faunus activist, took for granted, is stuff Weiss has only ever heard of distantly in books and film.

-Weiss, bemusedly attempting to play a video game while Yang and Ruby lean on either shoulder and coach her on the buttons: ...What is the purpose of this?

-Ruby: *initiates lore dump about the video game plot and characters and emotional story beats*

-Yang, yanking Ruby’s hood over her head so she sputters to a stop: To unwind and have fun with friends.

-Weiss: I thought that was what ‘sleepover night’ was for?

-Ruby: People can do more than one ‘fun’ activity, Weiss.

At one point Blake reluctantly takes Weiss book shopping because Ruby, as Team Leader, has organized an entire schedule of “who does what fun thing with Weiss” and this was hers: So this is my favorite book store, the fiction genres are that way, non-fiction is that way, and comics are over there.

Weiss: *looks incredibly, hopelessly lost* Ummmmm

Blake: ... let’s start simple. What kind of books did you read as a kid?

Weiss, a little helplessly: whatever the tutors my father hired deemed proper for my education at the time and whatever books I could sneak out of the library without being caught and told to put them back because they were either “too young” for me, “too old”, or “not proper for a young lady of my standing”. Grandfather had a lot of books that my father put in that latter category and eventually he just- locked the doors to the library entirely and bought a new copy of whatever my teachers or tutors said I needed.

Blake: *listens to this and slowly has an internal crisis that the ‘spoiled’ Schnee heiress has never been allowed to read her own choice of books aka Blake’s favorite childhood activity*

Blake, a little desperately: Are there any books you remember enjoying as a child? Even if they were assigned?

Weiss combs through her memories, decides that’s not productive, and goes all the way back to her Luna lifetime before tentatively admitting: I ... enjoyed reading mythology and other tales set in historical eras with little evidence of being actually true, but entertaining nonetheless, especially since they often had a moral component woven in.

Blake runs that through her internal Weiss Translator: Fairy tales. You like fairy tales. Okay, I can work with that.

[doublel27]

I’m late to the party, so how about any 3 from that WIP ask game that you want?

You’re not late to the party at all! I only posted it an hour ago. - and then promptly she fell asleep writing this...so, no, I’d only answered a few. And then I got sidetracked by life. I definitely owe you several answers

2 -  Do you name your WIP before, during or after writing? - Most of the time I name my fics after. I yell and gnash my teeth and pull my hair out until I settle on something that won’t drive me mad. Sometimes, I am very fortunate though and the title comes to me mid writing or before I’ve started. Those are great days. All of my WIPs have working titles.

Some current working titles: 3.11 Coda, Cow Eyes Three, 5+1 Loft, Bodyguard AU, Carlos and the PTA, Judd Ryder, Girl Dad - The Bully

10 - A WIP 12 year old you wrote: Twelve year old me was very deep in a re-write of Little Women, where Jo married Laurie instead of Amy. I was very Jo/Laurie from the ages of 10-12, and I bought one of those white hardcover books and made a very beautiful cover and then started my story. It did not get very far, and an older queerer me understands why Jo didn’t end up with Laurie in the end. I especially respect Louisa May Alcott’s ability to spite write an ending because her editors demanded an ending with Jo married and she gave them that ending. Adult me is glad it was a WIP. 14 - Post the last sentence of a WIP that is open in your tabs right now “And you’re here. We both are.”

Ask Game for Writers who are WIP Hoarders

[narcissasdaffodil]

Posting a new oneshot for my 20th birthday. I have a set of oneshots from last year that I’m still posting, so this one isn’t too new. I’m yet to post some oneshots I really love. It’ll take a little longer to cross post these on Tumblr though.

Flufftober 2020

Day 14: Cuddles

Alecto was far from overly affectionate. She was careful with who she allowed to touch her, and would shy away from unwanted touch pretty quickly. The fact that she let Marisol past her walls so quickly in that retrospect was strange, but Sophie was also able to get past without much resistance from Alecto herself.

She found herself pacing, struggling to keep still. Marisol was due back from her class 30 minutes ago, it wasn’t the first time Marisol had got sidetracked and forgot to message her back. Both of them kept their phones mostly on silent, and she has accidentally ignored people herself by forgetting to respond to messages, but being left waiting when she was hungry wasn’t too great.

She retrieved her phone from her bag, checking for messages. It had only been 5 minutes since she last checked and she glared at it, the notifications appearing to taunt her. She was conscious about avoiding appearing overly clingy, which prevented her from texting Marisol again. At the same time, appearing overly distant wasn’t the greatest either, but it was more comfortable for her than clinginess. If Marisol left her like so many people before her, she could pretend that it didn’t bother her and fool people, but playing a game of just pretend and imagining the worst possible situation was hardly healthy. What if she has actually left, though? You wouldn’t know but you’d be alone yet again, which you’re no longer as used to. That is strange to think about, isn’t it? Younger you would be so horrified that you’ve let someone in, especially after what happened with Étienne and Andromeda. That should have put you off relationships for life, yet it hasn’t.

It’s strange how the person who used to be able to cut herself off from people without a second glance is still here. She hasn’t ran yet from this relationship, and she hasn’t even considered it. Which considering how people usually scare her off so easily, that was a massive task.

She walked to the fridge, having a check to see what she could possibly make. It appeared to be leftovers night, there was the remains of two pasta dishes in containers, dodgy cheese which she promptly held up to the light to have a look at, holding it enough away from her so the possible smell didn’t cause issues. She prodded it, finding mould and binning it without a second thought. She grabbed a courgette from one of the shelves, feeling something squelchy and nearly dropped it. Ew! Trust you for not checking before you pick stuff up.

She gave it a second glance, noticing how she was holding it by the mouldy end. “Ew. That explains why that was left there then.” She grabbed it by the tips of her fingers, binning it and washing her hands quickly after.

She turned back to the fridge, focused on completing her task, not hearing the soft laughter in the kitchen with her. Marisol had somehow appeared in the flat while she was distracted, she didn’t hear the jangly keys which usually altered her to Marisol’s presence.

Marisol tiptoed in her direction, she had removed her shoes and stood in the kitchen in her socks. She waited for the perfect moment and pulled Alecto into a tight hug once she heard the other girl release an irritated sigh and turn on her heels, turning her back on the fridge like a petulant child.

Alecto’s eyes widened in surprise at the hug, feeling a little close for comfort. Her head had been squashed between Marisol’s own head and her shoulder, it wasn’t that uncomfortable. She thanked her lucky stars that Marisol wasn’t much taller than her, she was only 5’2 compared to Alecto’s own 5’0. Her arms were squished between them as it was far too quick for her to act in response to the hug. Her heart was racing slightly, Marisol had accomplished the impossible, making her jump. She sniffed the air, picking up a distinctive scent other than Marisol’s perfume and the other smells around the kitchen.

“Have you bought pizza? Ham and pineapple, of course, if my nose isn’t failing me. I suppose that explains why you’re late back. Hmph.” She prodded Marisol’s arm, trying and failing to get her to let go. “The fridge is slightly pitiful at the moment, the only edible thing in there is some fruit and veg and some containers of leftovers.” She sounded rather muffled, she kept getting Marisol’s hair in her mouth due to their close proximity. “Umm...hello. I’m very much not a teddy bear, I’m a living person and don’t particularly like having the life squeezed out of me.” Her voice was slightly sharp, she was finding it hard to hide how irritated she was.

Marisol let go, ruffling her hair slightly as she moved back slightly. Alecto hissed accidentally, raising one eyebrow and glaring at her. Marisol flinched slightly, and she watched Alecto tentatively.

“Hold on. Why are you mad at me? Is this because I was late back, because I didn’t let you know I was running late or because I laughed at you picking up the courgette by the mouldy end? Or because I forgot to sort through the fridge for the second week running and you had to sort through it for me again? Or because I left coffee mugs in the sink for the second day running and you’ve finally got fed up enough to clean them up? Or have I done...?” She trailed off, not looking at Alecto.

“More the first and second one. I would probably have laughed at you if you did the courgette thing instead of me, I likely have laughed at you before for talking to dodgy food as you bin it. I do that too,so it makes no sense getting mad. The coffee mugs are frustrating, but I can handle it. You’ve been running late for the past two days which isn’t like you. I like organising stuff and cleaning stuff, so honestly neither do bother me all that much. But you being late back? I’ve been worried about you! I get that sometimes shit happens and you’re as useless as I am in terms of keeping up with texts, but a heads up would definitely be nice. Even if you didn’t want to spoil the surprise or something.” She tried to keep up with her frosty tone, failing as her eyes filled with tears and she removed her glasses, setting them on the counter. Her voice went wobbly towards the end and she reached over to Marisol, linking hands and trying to get her to look at her. Marisol looked up and without a second thought, pulled her into another hug, rubbing her back as she cried into her shoulder.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I don’t usually get like this. But I’ve had people disappear on me before in the past and I was so scared that’s what had happened here. I was also worried about you, you keep being late and you’re usually early to everything. I’ve had too many people just leave me, and I was scared I was going to lose you, too. People have vanished on me for being too nosy so I didn’t want to ask you, even though I could tell something was wrong. I don’t want to go back to being scared of caring about people and making myself disappear before they can leave me. I don’t want to be a ghost again.”Her words were muffled by tears, she felt herself starting to calm slightly as she released her built up emotions.

“Hey, you have a right to have emotions. The fact you were worried proves you care about me and love me, which I’ve never doubted. I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying right here with you. I promise. I need to get better with keeping in touch with you, you’re right there. You’re not the best with keeping in contact yourself, but at least you’ve never left me hanging. You’re much better in that respect and I know how much it scares you. I have been struggling recently, but I didn’t want to bother you with my own stress as I thought I could handle it myself, but I can’t. My sister keeps trying to get me to meet up with her and it’s making me so anxious. I’m not sure if I can do it, which has been weighing on me. If we did it together, that might help, but I didn’t want to bother you and wanted to handle my own shit entirely myself. Which wasn’t the best decision, as now both of us are anxious. I’ve had to run for the bus twice this week, which is already too many! You won’t be a ghost again, as I’m still here and I want to help you.” Marisol stroked her hair, starting to separate it out into braids as she fiddled with it. If Alecto looked up in that moment, she would notice the tears in Marisol’s eyes too. Tears were very much contagious between them, they had such a strong connection that if one of them was emotional, the other would soon follow. Alecto rubbed her back from her position, trying to soothe her slightly.

They eventually separated, Marisol removing her own glasses and setting them next to Alecto’s. Alecto reached up and wiped the tears from Marisol’s eyes, her hand remaining on Marisol’s cheek.

“Of course I’ll see your sister with you also. I don’t mind in the slightest, if you need me for moral support then I’ll happily do that. We’re a team now. Both of us need to get better at trusting one another with our worries, a worry shared is a worry halved. I’m going to start sounding like a cheesy greeting card if I’m not careful. I’m glad you eventually told me, even though it took both of us getting upset to do that. We aren’t alone in the world anymore, being independent is one thing but keeping everything to yourself isn’t good, as eventually you’ll explode. I’m here for you as you’re here for me, and I love you so much. I’ve never loved anyone so much so quickly which is terrifying but in a good way. It’s strange to think we have only been together for such a short time frame, it feels like years already.” She fell silent, removing her hand from Marisol’s cheek, her own cheeks flushing as she realised how long she had kept it there for. She felt her voice settle into a more gentle and calming tone, fiddling gently with a lock of Marisol’s hair, being careful to not pull too tightly.

“Now, food is waiting. So we should probably eat before it gets cold, having some nice food will likely cheer both of us up.” Alecto said, moving in the direction of the pizza boxes and taking them to the kitchen table. She was about to turn back to get drinks and plates, but Marisol had read her mind, setting down glasses, plates and a large bottle of CocaCola on the table. It was a strange choice, but Alecto fought to keep her eyebrow in check.

“I needed a bit of sugar. Alcohol is likely not good for either of us while we’re a little fragile.” Marisol explained, taking a seat.

“Wait. I thought you were my sugar. You know, you’re like my honey.” Alecto teased, delighting in seeing how Marisol turned bright red and fiddled with her hair. Pet names would always make her a slight mess. She took a seat across from Marisol, giving her a wide grin and nudging her.

Marisol poured the drinks and focused on her pizza, sliding a separate pizza box over to Alecto. She kept busy in the hope that she would stop blushing for a bit.

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer At The Burrow - r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to The Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters

Chapter 3: Ron’s Return

The next couple days at The Burrow were some of your favorite days ever spent. You awoke every morning to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking downstairs and spent the majority of your days around magic. Every afternoon, you and Ginny would get together and complete your school work together, just like you used to at Hogwarts. It was a bit more difficult to stay focused without Hermione around, you and Ginny kept getting sidetracked with talk about Quidditch, but you managed to get some work done.

After your dinner in the garden, you spent the rest of your afternoon in the living room talking with Mr Weasley. He was fascinated by muggles and you were more than happy to indulge him and answer all of his questions. You explained the difference between a light switch and an outlet, and even told him about how your television works.

Whenever you were in the living room, you felt your gaze wonder to the clock hanging on the wall. Ron's hand was still pointing towards "Diagon Alley" and you were starting to wonder why he was shopping for so long.

Pushing the thought out of your mind, you directed your attention back to Mr Weasley.

"Do you have any muggle pets, y/n? What are they like?" He asked. You smiled as you saw the pencil next to him jotting down notes onto a pad of paper. Mr Weasley treated your conversations like an interview, wanting to remember everything you said. He was a sweet man, as all of the Weasleys were, so you didn't mind spending hours chatting with him.

"I guess the pets are sort of the same in the muggle world and wizarding world. I had a couple of goldfish when I was younger but I kept overfeeding them so my parents gave them away. Then I had a dog named Benji, but he now lives with my cousins because my family travels so much. And then my last pet was Celeste, but she died last spring," you told him.

The thought of Celeste made your good spirits sink a little. You had first met your snowy white cat in Diagon Alley when you were shopping for your first year at Hogwarts. It was difficult to navigate the streets of the busy wizarding shopping centre with two muggle parents, but they were kind enough to offer to buy you a pet for school.

Celeste had been the best pet you'd ever had. Unlike your boring goldfish, she was rather affectionate and could understand you well. She would cuddle onto your lap while you studied and bite at the ankles of classmates you didn't like. While at Hogwarts, she reminded you of home, and while back in London, she reminded you of your magical school.

Sadly, you hadn't realized that when you bought her in first year, she was already pretty old. Last year at school she started limping and moving slower than usual. Within a couple of months, she had passed away. It still made you sad to think about so you brought your attention back to Mr Weasley.

"So yeah, I suppose most of the pets are pretty similar. Except, muggles normally don't keep rats as pets," you explained with a laugh. Mr Weasley smiled, thanked you for talking with him, and then excused himself to finish up some work in the shed outside.

You hadn't realized how long you were talking because when you looked outside, it was already dark.  Your eyes found their way to the clock again, forgetting it didn't actually tell the time, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Ron's hand was now pointing at "home."

Standing up quickly, you brushed down your hair frantically, though you weren't sure why. Ron had seen you at your worst, messy and covered in mud after many Quidditch matches, so you didn't really have a reason to try to straighten your appearance out now. You sighed to yourself, your crush on him was really starting to make your head spin.

Just then, you heard the backdoor close behind you and you turned around. Standing there, clad in a familiar maroon jumper, was Ron. He looked slightly older than the last time you saw him when leaving Platform 9 and 3/4, but that was only a few weeks ago. When your eyes met each others, his face broke out into a wide grin, and he took three long strides towards you before wrapping you into a tight hug.

"Y/n! I'm so glad you're here," he said through the hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and let yourself be engulfed in his embrace. He was much taller than you so your face was buried in his shoulder. He smelled like cinnamon and apples, just the same as his room.

"Thanks for letting me stay. I think I would've gone mad being cooped up in my empty house all summer," you said once he let go of the hug.

"I think you're already a bit mad for agreeing to spend the next few months with my hectic family, but whatever suits you," he said, nudging your side.

You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and walked you outside.

"Where is everyone? I thought I would make it back in time for dinner," he asked, a slight frown on his face when he saw the empty tables outside. You couldn't blame him, his mom's cooking was so good that you would be disappointed to miss it too.

"Won Won!" Two voices in unison came from above you. Looking up, you saw Fred and George leaning their heads out of their bedroom window, sly grins on their faces. Ron's arm slowly slipped from your shoulder and you felt your smile falter.

"Come on up here, we've got a surprise for you two lovebirds," George said with a wink. The twins had taken to calling you that two years ago when they decided to forever torment you about your love life. Much to Ron's ex-girlfriend Lavender's dismay, they continued calling you that even when he was dating someone. You were comforted to see that Ron's cheeks were tinted the same color as his hair at the mention of the nickname.

As you walked up the countless stairs to the twin's room, you and Ron caught up with one another. It was easy to feel relaxed with him and soon the awkwardness from outside seemed to disappear. You were back to being best friends again, and nothing could make you happier. Well, maybe you'd be happier if he was more than your best friend...

Not bothering to knock once you reached the landing with the twin's door, Ron pushed the door open. That probably wasn't the smartest idea because he was immediately hit in the face with a jet of purple sparks.

"Ow," he said, his voice nasally as he held the bridge of his nose where the sparks had hit him.

"Sorry, mate. Better knock next time. We'd never barge into your room without warning," George said as he pulled both of you into the room and closed the door.

"Yeah, you could have a pretty lady in there, we wouldn't want to interrupt," Fred continued, winking at you.

You swatted his shoulder as you stalked past them, towards the pile of what looked like fireworks in the corner of their room.

"Is this what you wanted to show us? Fireworks?" You asked.

The twins then launched into a detailed story of how these weren't just any fireworks. They told you about how they bought them off a wizard in a pub and how they were special for Percy's birthday in August.

"Special how?" you asked suspiciously. It was common for the twins to poke fun at their prim and uptight brother, but you were sure they wouldn't do anything too drastic.

"That's a surprise that you will see on August 22nd. We are throwing him a birthday party, even inviting his girlfriend, so it will be the perfect place to showcase the fireworks," George explained.

"Then why call us up here if you aren't even going to tell us what they bloody do?" Ron asked with an annoyed voice, still nursing his bruised nose.

The twins turned to him quickly, "We wanted to talk to y/n. Now please get out." They ushered him to the door, with annoyed protest from Ron.

"Come on! I just got to see y/n!" He complained, as they promptly shut the door in his face.

"You'll see her tomorrow!" Fred yelled, "Also, y/n has been staying in your room so you have to sleep on the couch downstairs. Goodnight Won Won!"

The sound of Ron's disgruntled steps retreating to the bottom floor of the house filled your ears.

"What is it?" you asked the twins impatiently, your bad temper reflecting Ron's.

"Have you told him yet?" George asked. "You know, about your massive heart-wrenching crush on him?"

You glared at them as you sat on the windowsill. "No, and maybe I would've if two hooligans such as yourselves weren't shouting at us out of the window!"

The twins nodded, "Fair enough," they said together.

"Just make sure you tell him before Percy's birthday party, eh?" George said, his voice sounding guilty.

"Why?" you asked, your suspicion about the fireworks returning.

"No reason at all," he replied curtly. Then they quickly started shoving you out of the room.

"Sweet dreams!" They said together, before shutting the door in your face. You pressed your ear to the wood, hearing low whispers exchanged between them but you couldn't make any of their words out.

Sighing with annoyance, you walked up the stairs to Ron's room. You felt slightly guilty for staying in his room while he slept in the couch downstairs, but he did arrive late at night so you didn't really have time to discuss sleeping arrangements.

Once you arrived at his room, you closed the door and flopped down on the bed. You were exhausted from the day, and as you changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, your mind drifted once again to the box of letters under the nightstand. Should you ask Ron about the letters? Or would he get mad that you were snooping in his room? Deciding to leave this dilemma for tomorrow, you shut your eyes and tried to get some sleep.

[kiapet2]

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 7: Nice Job Breaking It, Hero

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: An unlikely alliance is made.

Chapter Warnings: Captivity, Death Mentions

“So, how are you holding up? Because I’m a potato.”

Wind whips at your clothing and hair, that and the weightless feeling in your stomach the only indications that you are falling. You do your best to glower at the tuber hanging in front of you in the air.

“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who insulted him.”

The potato scoffs. “He normally doesn’t care what you say about him. Owns it, even. This... temper tantrum... is your fault for putting him in charge of the facility in the first place!”

“My fault?” you say incredulously. “Like you gave me a choice!”

“You could have just let me kill you,” the potato says. “It really is terrible etiquette to depose your host, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

There’s a sudden jolt as your feet and then your back connect with something smooth and inclined, and then you find that in place of the elevator shaft you were just falling down, you are now sliding down a clear plastic tube.

“Ah. It looks like he caught us,” the potato says casually from behind. “I’m sure that wherever we’re going is simply delightful, don’t you?

You don’t have a good response to that so you choose to ignore it. You try to look at your surroundings, not sure whether to be relieved to have been saved from the seemingly bottomless elevator shaft or worried about where you might be going now. The tube you’re in changes trajectory quickly, going both up and down and taking sharp turns to either side. Rooms whizz by too quickly to get a good look, but you can occasionally recognize the distinctive white of test chambers.

That’s probably where you’re going now. You only just won your freedom, and now you’re being thrown right back in.

“Since we have all this time together,” the potato drawls, “Let’s give you some facts about our situation, hmm? Remus is the Creativity Core. The original Creativity Core, made years before our dear Roman first came into being.”

“Yes, I knew that,” you say impatiently.

“Well then,” the potato says, “You must have heard how Remus was ‘corrupted’. But do you know what that actually means?”

“I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

“It means, my sweet, stupid Thomas, that Remus isn’t constrained by so-called rules and morals the way your dear little friends are. He’s Creativity in its most raw, unbridled form. No inhibitions, no control, nothing to stop him from doing whatever the hell he wants.”

The potato’s voice turns mocking. “And you just put him in charge of the entire facility.”

The sound of slow claps echoes through the tube.

“Ah, good,” the potato says, “I was wondering if that function still worked.”

“It’s not like I had much choice,” you snap. “If you remember, you were trying to kill me at the time!”

“Yes, well, now everyone in Aperture is going to die. That’s clearly so much better, thank goodness for your quick thinking!”

You groan in frustration and run your hands through your hair. He’s right about that last part- replacing Remus was a mistake, one made in desperation maybe, but one which may still cost you your life.

Wait. He said-

“What do you mean, ‘everyone in Aperture?’” you say. “Are the others in danger?”

“Of course not,” the potato drawls. “Having a maniac at the head of this facility wouldn’t affect them at all, it’s not like they’re inherently connected to it or anything.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to respond when the tube splits, your body sliding into one fork while the potato is sucked into the other. In a moment, he’s gone from your view.

You’ve only just had time to register the separation when suddenly the tube ends and you find yourself flying through the air. Your feet hit solid ground, and though your boots stop most of the force of your landing you still find yourself overbalancing from the forward momentum and falling flat on your face. Your nose explodes into pain as it connects with the floor.

“Augh!” Tears form in your eyes and you gingerly feel at your nose. It isn’t broken, or at least you think it isn’t- would you be able to tell if it was?- and your fingers come away without blood, so you think it’s probably okay. Smarts like hell, though.

You sit up and look around, blinking the tears away. You’re in a small room, bare except for a button and connected door. The area around you is sterile and empty, with the Core-turned-potato nowhere to be seen. You’re not sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved- he isn’t exactly your favorite person right now, but at least if he were here you’d have someone to talk to.

As if on cue, a familiar voice fills the room.

Heeeey, Tommy-boy! Long time no see! Did you enjoy the ride? Do you think if you hit your nose again it would start gushing blood?

You grimace at the mental image, resisting the urge to feel again at your nose, then turn and cross your arms at the nearest security camera.

“Either let me go, or just get on with it!”

Touchy, touchy, Remus says. Well, if you’re that eager to get to testing, who am I to stop you?

Some sort of clear cylinder lowers into the center of the room, then slides open in front.

Well? Remus says as you move forward to tentatively inspect it. Are you going to get in?

It’s an elevator, you realize, but much smaller than you’re used to, almost claustrophobic if it weren’t for the clear walls- which will likely be nerve-wracking when the thing is actually in motion. You suspect the unsettling elements of the design are deliberate on Remus’ part, which just makes you even more certain that getting into this thing is not a good idea.

Or if you want, you could stay here and get hungrier and thirstier until you curl up and die. I bet I could get a lot of data from that!

You bite your lip and turn away, looking again at your surroundings. Surely, there’s some way out of here that isn’t that elevator. And yet, no matter where you look you’re trapped in. There’s no gaps in the walls to shoot portals through, and not enough height to build up momentum and try to launch yourself out.

You go back and stand in front of the elevator, your stomach twisting itself into knots. You just got out of the testing chambers- could you really bring yourself to go back? But what choice do you even have, when the alternative is staying here and hoping someone finds you before you die of thirst?

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you step forward into the elevator and watch as the doors close around you.

Now I’ve taken a look at Jan-Jan’s tests, Remus says as the elevator begins to rise, and they were okay and all, but it’s pretty clear he isn’t the Creativity Core, you know? I mean, toxic sludge and balls of electricity? It’s a start, I guess, but why limit yourself to the same old stuff when there’s so many fun ways to kill people?

The elevator slows to a stop, revealing a small testing chamber.

So that’s why I’ve come up with newer, deadlier obstacles for you to solve! First up: deadly lasers! I wouldn’t touch them if I were you- or at least if you enjoy having ten fingers. Have fun!

The doors open and you step out into the room, which looks strangely familiar. After a moment it hits you.

“I’ve already done this test chamber,” you say, then grimace, mentally kicking yourself. Sure Thomas, tell the deranged AI he needs to make his tests harder, that’ll turn out well for you.

Yes, but this one has deadly lasers, which automatically makes it better, Remus’ voice says petulantly. You caught me at a bad time! We used to have hundreds of test chambers locked away, but now I have to either use good old JAN-9000’s rooms or make them from scratch. So solve your silly little laser puzzle so you can get to the good stuff!

Wonderful, you think sarcastically, super looking forward to it. Then you sigh and just solve the puzzle.

Like the test chamber you previously solved, the solution is as simple as redirecting the laser with a pair of portals, and before you know it you’re back in the elevator. The one after is similarly simple, and involves using a special glass cube to redirect the lazers while Remus cheerfully narrates what they would do to you if you messed up and hit one. It’s almost nostalgic, really, though Remus’ descriptions of the danger are more gleeful where Virgil’s were more stressed.

By the time you get back into the cramped-yet-uncomfortably-exposed elevator, your heart is starting to calm down just a bit. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, right? Sure, you had the others then, and you’re pretty sure they’re the only reason you’re alive right now, but. It’s fine. You’re fine. And if you keep thinking it enough, maybe you’ll actually believe it.

The next test chamber forms before your eyes, panels pulling into place to make floors and walls while Remus tuts and apologizes to “Daddy” for making a mess. You do your best to ignore him as you step forward, finding a deep pit with a moving platform going across, directly into the path of a laser.

After a moment of surveying the room, you use your portals to get to the familiar form of a cube dispenser. Just like every other time you’ve used a cube dispenser, it promptly drops a cube. Unlike every other time you’ve used one, another object drops out right after the cube, one that shrieks as it falls, then bounces off the cube’s top and onto the ground with a series of “ow”s.

For a moment your stomach flutters with the hope that it might be one of your friends. Then you realize that the object that fell was much too small, and hit far too quietly, to be a Core- or at least a Core living in a body that isn’t a potato.

Just your luck, that the one person in this facility you were reunited with would be the one you least wanted to see. You go over anyways, kneeling down and poking at the potato lying on the ground.

“Hey, um, are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” the potato mutters into the floor.

“I take it you got sidetracked?” you say, picking up the potato and not even bothering to hide your smirk. “Had a little rollercoaster ride in the cube system?”

“Yes, yes, hilarious,” the potato says. “If you picked me up just to mock me, I’d kindly ask you to just leave me here to rot, please.”

“And here I thought Roman was dramatic,” you say.

“Ah, yes, dearest Roman,” the potato says, a sinister little smile in his voice. “How might he be doing, do you think? It looked like he fell quite far.”

Your knuckles creak as your hands form into fists. “I swear to you, if he isn’t okay-”

“You’ll what? Tear me out of my own body and replace me with someone who put me in a literal potato? Oh, wait, you already did that!”

You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. I need to find the others, and you’re just wasting my time.”

You set the potato down and turn, preparing to take the cube and step back onto the moving platform.

“What if I said I knew how to find them?”

You freeze, then turn back. “You know where the others are?”

“Perhaps.”

You crouch down and pick the potato up again. “Where are they?!”

“Right, because I both know the exact location and would be willing to tell you if I did.”

“But you’ll help me find him?” you say insistently.

“Me, help you?” the potato says. “This situation is your doing, so why would I possibly want to help you?”

You hold the potato up to eye level, giving him a glare.

“Because this is as much your fault as mine. You’re going to help me fix it, or I will throw you down into the deepest depths of this facility I can find and leave you to rot.”

For a moment you’re afraid you went too far, but the potato just gives a deep chuckle. “Well Thomas, I must say I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you. Since you asked so nicely, I will help you find the others, on one condition: you restore me to my rightful place at the head of this facility.

You almost drop him in shock. “What? No! You being in control here was what caused this problem in the first place!”

The potato sighs. “Do you know what my intended purpose is, Thomas?”

“Putting people through rat mazes and then killing them?”

The potato continues as if you hadn’t said anything. “I am the System Preservation Core. I kept this facility running when everyone else had failed, forwarded its interests above all else for decades until you replaced me and threw it all away.”

“Forwarded its interests above human lives?” you say incredulously.

“Of course.”

You scowl down at the potato. “So how do I know you’re not just going to kill me the second you get back control?”

“Thomas,” the potato replies dryly, “I think you’ve proven once and for all that it is much greater of a threat to this facility to try to kill you than to let you go.”

There’s no way you can trust that, not when this Core lies so easily. Then again, some part of your brain whispers, there’s nothing to stop you from going back on the agreement later on if need be. It’s not like he can do much as a potato.

“All right,” you find yourself saying. “When I’ve found my friends, we’ll put you back where you were.” The declaration hangs in the air between you, and you silently hope you haven’t just made a terrible mistake.

“Right then,” the potato says, businesslike. “We’re going to need some way for you to carry me, preferably not in your hands as I absolutely relish the idea of being dropped mid-jump. Wait, what are you-”

Before you can think better of it, you find yourself taking the potato and spearing it onto one of the portal’s front tines, making its occupant yelp.

“Did you just stab me?” he shrieks.

“I didn’t- I mean I just-” you stammer, then jump as the potato lets out another yelp.

“I- whoa. Okay. That portal gun must have Magnesium or something in it; I think my power just went up half a bolt.”

“So- you’re good then?” you say.

He huffs. “As good as I can be as a potato, I suppose.”

You slump in relief so hard you need to steady yourself on the wall. You don’t like this Core, obviously, but you really didn’t feel like becoming a murderer today.

“At any rate,” the potato says, “I might as well put this processing power to use, since I doubt you’ll be of much help. If you need me I’ll be doing some scheming. See y-”

The potato’s voice cuts out, and his light goes dark.

Okay, so maybe you spoke too soon on the not-having-murdered-anyone thing.

“Uh, potato guy?” you say nervously, poking at the potato. “Buddy? You good there?”

After a moment the yellow light blinks back on.

“Huh? What happened? How long have I been out?”

“Er, thirty seconds? More or less?” you say.

He hrms. “Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing. The extra half a volt helps, but it can only go so far. If I think too hard I’m going to fry this lousy tuber.”

“Wonderful, I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” you mutter. The sarcasm makes your tone sound almost identical to the potato’s, which gives you a weird, almost deja-vu-like feeling.

You shake the feeling off, hefting the portal gun and using it to grab the nearby cube. “Are you at least ready to go, Mr. Potato Head?”

The potato huffs. “Do keep making up ridiculous nicknames for me, it’s not like I have a real name or anything.”

“Oh, right,” you say. “Remus called you Jan, right? Or, uh, Janny?”

“Janus,” the potato hisses.

You raise an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The potato hesitates for a moment, before it sighs and says, “My name is Janus.”

You mull that over for a moment. A bit unusual, but not bad as names go.

Taking a deep breath, you move forward, stepping onto the moving platform and preparing to finish the puzzle.

“Alright then, Janus,” you say. “Looks like we’re a team.”

[oh-styles]

Something About a Loss: Part I

Disclaimer: Before we jump in, I want to disclose that this chapter talks heavily about miscarriage, and depicts violence and bouts of depression. If it is something you aren’t comfortable with, I advise you to skip this one.

In addition, I found this chapter extremely hard to find a finishing point on. I feel it is not as good as my other works, simply because it’s sad as fuck. I don’t write sad stuff well, and I know this now. Nevertheless, I did it. 

I also advise that if you are sad after finishing this, you stream Lights Up.

May 18, 2019 Los Angeles, CA

You were ill, and infallibly ill, at that. Since the days leading up to this very moment, the one where you are splayed over the king size mattress with a thin sheet covering half of your exposed body – you can’t decide if you’re hot or cold – you swear up and down you have purged at least half of your body weight. Harry, who was as well as a whistle, claimed you just had a stomach bug, but felt confident enough to remain by your side despite the risk of germs.

“I can pop to the shops real quick, get you some ginger ale?... What sounds good, pet?”

Death. Death sounds good.

You don’t want to risk moving – or risk any movement, really – for the sole sake of your sensitive stomach that is one head acknowledgement away from projectile vomiting like you were in a poorly casted remake of The Exorcist. You can sense Harry standing beside you, and after a beat with no response, he reaches his hand out and holds it front of your mouth to confirm you are still indeed breathing.

“You still with me, sweets?” You wiggle your toe rapidly. “Is that a yes…?” Wiggle. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit, okay? You want anything else? Crackers?” He’s met with silence, but he watches you from the doorway – giving a subtle glance to your big toe – and nods to himself. “Is it okay if I take y’car? Mine’s low on petrol and I don’t feel like—”

“Keys in purse,” you mumble into your pillow, pulling a hand free from the sheets and pointing somewhere towards the corner of the room.

“Right,” he spots the Gucci bag hanging on the closet door. “I won’t be long.”

But be long, he did, but it wasn’t his fault, really. He had to remind himself he couldn’t get sidetracked, that he had a sick girlfriend back home waiting for him, so he needed to promptly check off his mental grocery list and be out the door before you could say Harry Styles. But, it’s right as he’s awkwardly carrying three Canada Dry’s, and beginning to regret passing on grabbing a basket, that he hears it.

“Harry Styles!”

It was a few photos and a video of a cool hat trick later that he finally found himself tucked away safely back in your car.

“Alright, sicky, I’m home.” He nudges the bedroom door open with a light kick and sets the bag of drinks down on the end of the bed. Where he left you, just a mere thirty minutes before, is now empty, and he spots where you kicked off the sheets in a clear haste; it was no telling where you are now. He can hear the harsh guttural retching from the bathroom door, and with a peek inside, there you were, lay stark naked on the opaque tiles. “Blood hell, pet.”

“I think I’ve fallen ill,” you mutter against the toilet seat. That was a major understatement if he’s ever heard one. This was the second day you’ve been stumbling into the bathroom at all hours of the day, seemingly fine just moments before. It was hard telling how much longer this could last, but Harry already decided by tomorrow he was willing to take you to the doctor if no symptoms have let up.

You were not having it; you had fully accepted death if it meant avoiding any doctors office--needles, blood tests, what have you. It was just a stomach bug, one that would pass, and you’d rather not waste his time and money on something that can be treated with water, rest and back rubs.

Though, the following morning, after you were finished purging your breakfast into the toilet, you spotted Harry in the doorway of the bathroom with your shoes in hand, and a sullen, sunken face.

“Alright, let’s go, pet.”

You were 24-years-old, an adult woman, who at the mention of anything medical, instantly recoils into a ball on the floor. No, sir. There was no way you were going. Water, rest, and backrubs--that’s all you needed, thank you. But, unfortunately for you, your boyfriend stood firmly in the doorway, and already prepared himself for such a reaction.

“There could be something seriously wrong with you, pet. Read something about a parasite--”

“A fucking parasite.”

“It’s just a thought--”

“Something could be growing inside me?”

There was more on his mind than just a fucking parasite, but he couldn’t find the words to say them, not with you hyperventilating on the bathroom for in fear of having to see a doctor. In truth, it was the first thing that came up when he searched your symptoms, and when he called the doctor that morning, they too agreed you come in for tests.

If he were to say the p-word, your panicking might only intensify. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, but it wasn’t something that was exactly on the table for discussion as of late. Was it something you could see yourself doing in the future? Of course, but that was in the future, maybe a couple years from now. You still relied on your boyfriend to remind you to take your vitamins; there was no way you were ready for a baby.

As for Harry, ever since the first morning you chucked yourself off the bed and raced to the bathroom, he knew; it was this gut feeling most would describe as an intuition, and with every passing day, it would only grow in size. If it wasn’t the morning sickness, it was you sleeping your days away, and complaining about the tenderness of your breasts.

You just thought your period was coming.

“Or...you could be pregnant.”

He had his assistant drop off a few tests that morning while you were still asleep, and maybe it was a father's instinct, but he knew the outcome before you even had to glance down at the test. He made a deal with you, if the tests came back negative, they would see a doctor. If they were positive, he’d give the two of you a day to let the shock settle.

He was relatively surprised by how resilient you were when he handed over the tests. There were three boxes, six in total. Throughout the day you would take one, which was easy because your urgency to pee had sparked over the last few days, and whatever response it gave you, you would make a note of it.

By the third pregnant, you stopped taking them.

Harry was making lunch, and the only thing you felt you could stomach was cooked spaghetti, minus the sauce. You sauntered down the stairs, the tests concealed in a ziplock bag, and tossed them up onto the kitchen counter.

“I want eggs instead.”

“Oh, yeah?” He didn’t bother to glance back at you. “Scrambled? Poached?”

“Fertilized.”

He was spreading mayonnaise onto a piece of bread, and you think he might’ve not heard you, but it was once he twisted the lid back on, setting the knife on the edge of the sink, that he turned around, that you realize he’d been crying.

“So,” he sniffs, a smile spreading wide. “We���re having a baby?”

It’s then that you pull out your phone, and do a quick Spotify search, fast forward the song until you’re reached the chorus, before you hit play on Kiwi.

* June 10, 2019 Los Angeles, CA

“Think we can snatch up some Cinnabon today, muscles? I got a hankering for some cinnamon on buns.”

At first glance, you don’t look any different; not from the day before, anyway. To any new pair of eyes, you’re just an ordinary woman who insists on stopping to pet every dog that passes by, and who trips over her shoelace she refuses to tie. No stranger would be vaguely aware of the hidden secret laid burrowed deep inside the swell of her stomach.

“Is it you that wants it, or baby bean?”

You snicker, but you damn well knew the answer. The little baby bean laid protectively inside of you just entered its ninth week of development, and you were proud to say it was the size of an almond. You spent the greater portion of the morning studying over all the changes the little one would be making, and the sexual organs were one of them.

“Okay, get this. It says that the gonads have become either testes or ovaries. We actually have a boy or girl—or whatever it wants to be, that’s their choice, but testes and ovaries, babe!”

You knew it would still be some time before you found out the gender, but it didn’t stop either one of you starting a list of names written in the Notes section in your phone.

“I really like Lily…or Meadow,” you inquire from the kitchen, as you dip a carrot into a tub of ranch. “Maybe even Moonbeam?”

“Moonbeam. Moonbeam Styles.”

“Could be a middle name, too. Meadow Moonbeam.”

“Babe, our child wasn’t conceived at Woodstock.”

No, but the thought crossed your mind frequently as to when your egg had openly welcomed your boyfriend’s sperm, and after some math and a doctor’s visit, you were left with a definitive time: late march, or March 29, to be exact.

“I think you knocked me up after the Rock ‘n’ Roll thing.”

“The Rock ‘n’ Roll thing,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“I remember—I was on my period the week before, and I didn’t want you anywhere near me, and I remember once we were in New York it was finally over, and after the Stevie Nicks thing—” You could see him roll his eyes once more. “—we went back to the hotel and we fucked like…all night, practically.”

“Okay, but you know that doesn’t mean it was that night.”

“Listen, okay. Because of the time change, I forgot to take my pill that day, so I doubled the next day, but because I missed—”

“How do you remember this stuff?”

“Just let me finish, will you!”

In the end, despite your distinguishing facts, the boy that laid sprawled out on the sofa in nothing but his underwear, still was doubtful whether to believe your undeniable facts. Yes, you were right that the two of you did get down and dirty that night, but you also got down and dirty for likely many nights after that, but he’s aware of how stubborn you are, and let you have this one thing.

“I can’t believe it… I bet it was because you were around Stevie Nicks. She put a spell on your sperm, I bet.”

*

June 18, 2019 Wembley Arena, London, UK

“Are you going to ask Stevie Nicks if she put a spell on your sperm?”

“Pet, I will leave you in the car.”

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise!”

“And don’t…give anything away.”

You were one who did well with keeping secrets, but this secret was nestled away inside of your body, and it was only a matter of time before that secret was impractical to hide. You and Harry had decided that you would tell family and friends by the twelfth week, because there was something he read about most miscarriages happening in the first trimester – for whatever reason – and it was just better to wait until that risk was lower.

“It’s literally a week away—a week. A week, Harry.”

“6 days, actually.” He pulls his hoodie up and over his head, tousling his hair in the process. “Can wait 6 days, yeah?”

“You’re asking the impossible of me!”

“I’m asking you to not tell my mother I knocked you up.”

Knocked up. This wasn’t some one-night stand bullshit—though, you might recall him shoving your face into the bedsheets and ramming himself into you dripping cunt quicker than you could say, “Yes, baby, right there!” You like to imagine the conception of your child was a moment filled with love and passion, but you can’t lie to yourself and ignore the fact he spit in your mouth, and after he came in you, making you stand and let the cum drip down your thighs while he got off to it on the bed.

No, your child was created by love, dammit!

“Don’t tell Anne we made love and are having a baby, got it!”

Even he knows ‘making love’ wasn’t what you would call it, and the long pause as the two of you walked into the venue was more than proof of that.

Despite being given this absurd task of not letting any cats out of any bags, you did manage to keep your mouth closed upon the arrival of Anne Twist. She was quick to swoop you in her arms, planting a kiss on your cheek, and even rubbing a thumb over your cheek, saying something about your clear complexion.

“Your skin is looking beautiful, darling. Are you using something new?”

Pregnancy hormones. “Vitamins.”

“Oh, what kind?”

Pre-natal. “Hair, skin and nails.”

“Well, you are looking very healthy.” She really was none the wiser, well, up until moments later when you turned down a glass of wine backstage.

“I, uh, was really hung over this morning. Was throwing up all night. Pretty gross stuff.” You weren’t entirely fibbing. You and your unborn child have been playing a cat-and-mouse game of whether it will agree with what you eat or not. Last night, turns out, it did not particularly care much for the chicken and rice Harry had cooked up. “Just sticking with water tonight.”

Two days later, you and Harry attended the wedding of Amy and Mike, which was just another imminent disaster just scheduled to happen. It was one thing biting your tongue for one person, but that evening, you would have his entire family on your tail, and you aren’t completely confident on how many lies you can pull out of your ass in one evening.

But, it was that morning, after waking up in a haste and purging every last bit of your late dinner – you sometimes get hungry around 2 am – that you realize, staring back at you in the mirror, is the well-defined beginnings of a bump. Before, it only looked like you had spent your afternoon at an all-you-can-eat buffet, but now, you were pregnant. There was no way José you could fool anyone into believing you were just simply bloated from a big lunch.

“I think if the morning sickness gets any worse, we should try those pills the doctor was telling you about.” You hear Harry rustling around in the bedroom, seemingly on the hunt for the little slip of paper with the prescription. “D’ya want some toast, love?”

You heard a light tap on the other side of the door, and it was once he peeked his head in, that he spotted you, standing bare-chested in front of the mirror, and the obvious little convex mass that he swears up and down was not there a minute ago.

“We have to tell them.”

“Babe—”

“Your mom is already onto me, and I’m only going to get bigger.”

“You can’t announce pregnancies at weddings—that’s a law, or summit, yeah?”

“Well, this wouldn’t be a problem now if we had just told them earlier.”

“All of the books say it’s best to wait—”

“Well, fuck waiting—I’m fucking massive now!”

You ended up arriving late to the wedding, and considerably disorderly, after having to redo your makeup in the venue bathroom because you started crying on your way there because you saw a bird. No, that’s it. Just a bird, one that you thought looked very beautiful. You knew there was no way you could finish the night without crying at least five more times.

Your excuse for that: “Oh, probably going to start my period soon!” They’d get the truth soon enough.

*

June 28, 2019 New York, New York

“You’re actually going to wear that shirt to dinner,” you affirm, giving your hand a little wave in the air to help dry your nails. Harry gives a brief glance down at his top, stretching it at the bottom to admire it fully. “There isn’t anything else you could wear?”

“What’s wrong with m’shirt?”

“It says Safe Sex…like, in big letters—can’t miss ‘em.” It’s then, with a little more observation, you notice the two figures, and how they each appear to be holding— “No, for fucks sake, Harry. You aren’t wearing that outside of this hotel room.”

“It’s a nice shirt.”

“They are whacking each other off!”

“It’s a Keith Haring, darling. Get with the times.”

In the end, after much persuasion – and a threatening promise of spilling red wine all over his vintage top – he wore the shirt to dinner. A nice restaurant, mind you. One where the appetizer costs as much as a normal entrée at Applebee’s, and to fork the bill at the end of the night, you’d have to ask politely if they accept payment plans.

“Babe, stop looking at the cocktail menu.”

“I’m just looking.”

“You’re going to upset yourself because you can’t have any of it.”

“Babe, they put an actual egg white in a White Lady… Fucking rich people, let me tell you what…” And leave it to the rich guy sat in front of you to wear a shirt promoting masturbation to a 5-star restaurant.

“Maybe I can get the little Styles a matching one, so they can match with their daddy.” You saw the corner of his mouth twitch at the word; he still was getting used to the idea of being a father in the coming months.

“You’d actually be fine with your newborn child wearing a onesie that says Safe Sex?”

And after a moment’s thought, he didn’t bring the topic up again.

In the month since you found out about the pregnancy, there were many lifestyle changes you inevitably would have to change. For one, you weren’t allowed to stand in front of the microwave anymore, nor could you lay on your stomach, because you might ‘squish’ the baby. You tried to explain to your boyfriend that your child was practically the size of an almond, and laying on your stomach would do it no possible harm, but he wasn’t having any of it.

As if giving up alcohol was bad enough, you were forced to abandon your love for seafood. There was a list of things you could eat in moderation, but you weren’t exactly sure how to eat lobster in moderation.

You also spent an hour crying when you were told you couldn’t eat cookie dough do to the raw eggs.

“Love, you shouldn’t be eating it anyway!”

“It’s fucking good, Harry! Like you would know. The only sweet shit you put near your mouth is my cunt.”

Harry realized very early on that pregnancy, for you, was just a rollercoaster of hormones, and he better strap in for the ride. After he had told you that you had to give up coffee and sushi, you locked yourself in the bathroom while you cried in the bathtub.

“You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you! That stuff just isn’t good for the baby.”

“If it’s my baby, it’ll want it!”

You stayed locked in the bathroom for an hour, and only came out because you forgot there was a new episode of This Is Us. Harry then spent the next thirty minutes online trying to track down a eggless cookie dough recipe he could make, that way you could stop giving him the stink eye from across the room.

He was lucky you didn’t make him sleep on the couch that night.

* June 29, 2019 New York, New York

Tonight was your last night in New York, and you would then spend a week in London before heading out to Canada to enjoy a nice, serene vacation with the Gerber’s. Harry called your little holiday in Muskoka a pre-babymoon, but all you wanted was a vacation. You knew it would be later in the year when his schedule began to pick up, and all of the plans they have been deriving for months would finally be set in motion, so it was not set in stone as to when an actual babymoon could fit in that timeline or not.

“We’ll make something work, love.” Harry bumps his hip out and taps your side. “You’re not due until December; I know we can get away for a week.”

December 20th, to be exact. Harry had his fingers crossed for a Christmas baby, but the last thing you wanted was to spend the holidays overdue, trying to push a small human out of your vagina. If you could have it your way, Christmas would be spent cuddled on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate, your baby girl – or boy – fast asleep in its My First Christmas onesie, snoozing soundly on your chest. Harry would be off in the corner, taking aesthetic photos of you by the Christmas tree, and maybe he would find himself cuddled into your side for a little family nap.

But that was still six months away.

Harry was off doing a photoshoot for Rolling Stone, so you spent your afternoon back at the hotel with his debit card, buying every stretch mark cream that promised fast results, and ramen from GrubHub. You were also mildly surprised when your child decided it liked your lunch choice and let you digest it properly.

“So, we know you like ramen… I’ll make a note of that.” You smile, giving gentle rubs to your little bump. “I think next we should try some… Oh, dumplings sound good. Think you want some dumplings, little bean?”

And once again, you right back on GrubHub.

“Daddy will be back soon, and then we’ll go back on a plane and be home… Nana said she got you some stuff, so we’ll have to check that out, huh?”

You like to imagine that they’re bundled inside you, nodding along to everything you say. “Well, yes, I would like to check out what Nana got me!” Though, only the size of a lemon, your little, growing human has developed vocal cords, teeth, and even fingerprints.

So far, the pregnancy has been pretty smooth sailing for you. You feel like you spent most of the first trimester asleep or puking, but now you’re finding yourself up and moving, doing the dishes and laundry, vacuuming, and trying to find some time to spend in the bedroom.

The idea of sex while you had a growing fetus taking up your insides, for a lack of better words, freaked the fuck out of you both. Would it hurt? Would it damage anything? Every article you read online sufficed your thoughts, but you wouldn’t let Harry’s penis near you until your OB gave you the green light, and once that green light was lit, the two of you didn’t waste a moment.

You also didn’t really imagine the first time having sex since you two found out you were expecting would result in him calling his mom immediately after. In his defense, you trust Anne, and she’s been through this twice, so she must have all the answers. But, I think the last thing anyone would want is having their boyfriend call their mother after they’ve finished fucking you, to ask if it’s normal for their girlfriend to bleed a little.

“Yes, Harry… a little is normal…”

You texted her a few minutes later to apologize.

“I can’t believe you called your mom.”

“I panicked!”

“I don’t like it when she knows we’ve had sex.”

“Well…you are pregnant…with my child… Had to have m’cock in ya for that to happen.”

Harry didn’t waste any time getting back to the hotel after his shoot, and just like every morning right as he wakes up, he made a beeline to your bump and greeted it with a little kiss. “Hello, little bean. Did ya keep y’mum company today?” And of course, a kiss for you. “Are you all packed? Probably going to leave here in a few—flight leaves in two hours.”

“Yep, and—” You watch as he strolls around the room, picking up his phone charger and tosses it in his bag. His eyes, they were different. They were darker. They— “Eyeliner? They really put you in eyeliner?”

“Oh, yeah.” He grins, throwing on his jacket. “I wanted to get back here, so I didn’t bother taking it off.”

“You look like you belong in a pop punk band that writes songs about how much they hate their hometown but refuse to leave.”

Thirty minutes later, and the three of you were out the door. His driver was parked outside, and felt informed to give a heads up that a group of girls were beginning to form outside the building. This wasn’t your first time, nor would it be your last. At this point, all you could do was shrug your shoulders and carry on. All the times before, they never pay much attention to you, nor have they ever bothered to do so.

You noticed how Harry grew silent on the elevator, and even made the comment, “Stay close to me. Don’t stop for anyone.” You felt that was the baby talking, because the last thing he could imagine happening was lingering outside too long and getting jostled.

Outside the doors, he spotted the driver waiting outside the car door, and he reached his hand back to find yours. “Just stay close. We’ll be quick.”

You could hear the screaming through the glass doors, and once you were outside it was amplified. Girls were shoving, and reaching their arms out as far as they could, trying their best to get that small, brief touch. You kept your hand bound tight with his, your eyes fixated on the ground, and you knew you were only a few feet away from the car, until you felt a sudden, deafening whack across your back, one that sent you flying forward into Harry’s jacket.

Before you could find your footing, you felt a pair of hands tangle and twist itself in your hair, and you were violently thrown back, colliding with a hard blow on the pavement.

You could hear the screaming – much different than from before – and most certainly not from the same person. When you opened your eyes, all you could see were a pair of shoes, but they became closer and closer until you felt the kick strike your stomach, and again to your jaw.

“Get the fuck off of her!”

“Go fucking die, cunt!” Spat.

You didn’t realize you had been shielding your face until you felt a pair of hands reach out, taking your in theirs. You saw a brief glimpse of a cross tattoo, and were swiftly lifted up and settled in the backseat of the car.

*

Two hours ago, it had a heartbeat. It had told you how much it enjoyed the ramen and dumplings, and how excited it was to hear about the presents its Nana had gotten them. It was only the size of a lemon and had developed teeth and vocal cords and fingerprints. It was close to 3 inches long, and not even a full pound in weight, and now it’s all gone.

There wasn’t going to be a Christmas birthday. You weren’t going to sit on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate, with your newborn asleep on your chest. There wasn’t going to be photos taken by your boyfriend, ones he would show off to every one of his friends.

All the names would go unused. Meadow Moonbeam, Lily Magnolia, Sunshine Rainbow were all ceased to exist now. There would be no family now, just the two of you.

You listen to the nurse talk, and you watch Harry sit beside you, but you don’t say a word. You stare at the ceiling tiles and count 94, and once you’ve finished you notice she’s still talking, so you recount again, but this time you get 95. Maybe the room is just getting bigger, or you’re just getting smaller.

Harry adjusts himself in his seat and squeezes your hand. When you peak a glimpse over, you notice his eyeliner is now smeared, mostly having been rubbed off, and you can confirm that by the black mark on his hand. He says something to you, and you stare at his lips as he repeats it, but all the worlds fly over your head like the wind.

“Pet,” he says again, and this time you acknowledge him. “We can go. You don’t have to say here.”

You’ve already spoken to the police, given your statement. There wasn’t much of a statement to give, anyway. You didn’t see the person; hell, you weren’t even sure if there was just one. They could have had three heads; you really didn’t know. All you remember is the voice.

“Go fucking die, cunt!”

It wasn’t me who died.

There weren’t much more the nurses could do, at least not now, anyway. The nurse – you think her name was Nancy – said there was a chance you could need a D&C, and she went over the details, but you blocked her out. Harry even excused himself out of the room.

Before she left, she dropped a sonogram photo down on the side of the bed, the last picture you’d ever get of your child.

It’s been two hours, and you’ve not said a word. You reach down to feel your bump, to confirm to yourself it is still there, to make sure it wasn’t taken away from you while you weren’t looking. There wasn’t a heartbeat, but you bump remained untouched.

“Sweetheart, we can go. We don’t have to stay.”

You don’t even realize he’s returned, but he’s standing by the end of your bed, and the moment you notice his red nose – the light sniffle gave it away – you immediately reach out to grab the ultrasound photo, tucking it away at your side.

He keeps saying that, but once you leave, it’s really over. Those few months you had spent lying to your friends and family, keeping your little bump a secret, was all for nothing. It was all done. Finished. There was nothing to come tomorrow. No new development news next week. No waking up to Harry draped over your stomach, leaving a trail of drool on your shirt. No kisses, no change, no baby. It was all back to the beginning now, before you met your baby bean.

But life was different back then, because you hadn’t known what special love it gave you, and now that love has been taken away, and you’re just supposed to find your footing again and carry on like nothing happened. It’s only been two hours, but you don’t believe that’s possible.

You stay at the hospital for an hour more, until it’s been confirmed that you and Harry have another flight, this time at a different airport. Instead of JFK, you would be driving to Queens to leave out of LaGuardia.

“Hun,” you hear him walk around to the other side of the bed, reaching down to grab your shoes. “I love you.”

You can’t turn around, not with the pain still inching all across your abdomen, but you feel the weight shift on the mattress, and all of a sudden, a pair of arms wrap around your chest, pushing you back against his chest. It’s silent for just a moment, until a retching sob expels from the back of his throat, and he lays his head on your shoulder, and all you could feel where his tears drenching your skin.

His hand falls and lands on your bump – still there -  and it rests there for a while, softly rubbing little circles back and forth, his way of giving his baby bean one last goodbye. You feel him kiss the inside of your neck, and with another sniff, he steps away, and helps you into your shoes.

The two of you leave out of a back entrance where your vehicle is waiting, and in silence, you sit unmoving. You check once again to make sure your bump hasn’t disappeared.

It’s all you have left.

At LaGuardia, you’re escorted in by security, through another back entrance, and only once does Harry stop to take a couple photos. You stand silently, watching the interaction, and you’re astounded at how calm his demeanor is, where just forty-five minutes ago, he was at the hospital sobbing into your neck. You don’t understand how he could pose and smile – if you can call that a smile – despite having been given the news just hours before that his unborn child is dead.

It sounds vulgar; you hate the word dead, but that’s the reality of it now. It’s not living anymore, and maybe if you say it enough, you’ll stop feeling.

Anything to make the pain stop.

By now, the news has spread about the attack, and it’s all every update account and fan page can talk about. They talk about how they’re grateful you’re okay, how you’re up and walking and seemingly unscathed. As Harry walks back at you, you think you see them take another photo – a quick one, probably blurry – and you realize your hand is still resting on your bump.

Doesn’t matter anyway.

“C’mon, pet. Let’s get home.”

[asterinjapan]

A whole Latte (window) shopping

Good evening from a rainy Tokyo! And no apologies for that awful pun in the title, haha.

Yeah, so uhm, two new tropical storms have formed… One has already dwindled down to a low pressure system, bringing in a ton of rain tonight into tomorrow over areas that have already had plenty of rani last week. The second is a typhoon right now and will probably tun into a low pressure area as well when it approaches late this week. The already battered parts of Japan really can’t catch a break, yikes.

For me, it’s just a mild inconvenience. Tokyo will get rain, and pretty much all my side trips are falling through as they’re in dangerous areas due to risk of landslides and what not, but I can definitely keep myself otherwise entertained. I can only hope that these storms blow over without too much additional damage.

Anyway! I finally managed to wear myself out today, haha, and that despite just sticking to the city I’m staying in. Climbing mountains is easy, but (window) shopping does me in!

Follow me below for my report of today, consisting of Shibuya revisited, hopping over to Harajuku and Akihabara and ending with dinner with a certain bright yellow mascot. Pictures will be up tomorrow morning!

First things first, I had a train ticket to secure for a trip that will happen no matter what: the ride to the airport on the 28th. The Narita Express doesn’t often go through Ikebukuro, but it does at a convenient time for me for once on the 28th, so I wanted to get a seat on that train, haha. Sure, I have to get up early, but I can throw my luggage into the luggage corner, take a seat, and only get up once I’m at the airport. I’ve nearly always had to transfer after the Yamanote line, which is not a lot of fun when you have heavy bags with you. So! I made my way to the JR East travel office, since the normal ticket office apparently can’t reserve seats on the Narita Express for you, and secured my seat. I also asked about trains further out, and got confirmed what I was already suspecting: dangerous, cancelled lines, etcetera. Well, I’m not gonna risk it. Too bad about my JR pass, but it’s given me my free seat in the Narita Express, and the shorter trips throughout Tokyo secretly add up a lot too if you don’t have a free pass. It has long since paid itself off!

Well, I had gotten a relatively early start today, so I went to Shibuya again at a calm pace. It was only a little after ten, so the crossing was pretty empty compared to yesterday, haha. I first hopped over to the Disney store to secure my ticket for Disneyland. Hey, it’s tradition by now! There was only one person in front of me instead of a long line (going on a Monday morning really helps), so that was quickly arranged. After some shop browsing, I traced my way to my Miyamasu Mitake shrine (I’m getting possessive over it by now, haha). And behold, the shop was open! I could finally hand in my omamori, protective charm, which I’d gotten almost 2 years ago (you’re supposed to hand it back in after a year). I immediately got a new one, of course. Still white, because I think the other ones were more specific, and ‘general luck’ has worked fine so far I’d say!

I had a light and early lunch at a nearby café and then went back to the station to go one stop further on the Yamanote line: Harajuku. I usually go to the fancy Omotesando street or the Meiji shrine, but today, I went into Takeshita street. That’s what you think of when you hear Harajuku, I guess, haha, sinc this street is lined with a ton of fashion stores and all kinds of food. There’s one stall that’s gotten pretty well known for its huge rainbow colored candy floss, which are indeed a sight to behold (but I held off for now, I needed to be hungry for dinner). My main mission here was finding a coat, but I got immensely sidetracked by super cute clothing everywhere. No coats that fit my criteria, but I sure had fun window shopping and I’m seriously considering a couple of outfits. Not the very fancy frilly gorgeous dresses, though. I mean, they are amazingly gorgeous and not as outrageously expensive as you might think (not cheap by all means, but I’ve seen more expensive clothes in my little home town) but still… I don’t think I’d dare to wear them? Also, those would definitely mean I have to buy a second suitcase, haha.

Once I went back and forth through Takeshita street, I went back to the station for my next stop on the Yamanote line: Akihabara station, also known as nerd central I guess, haha. Truth is, in earlier years I didn’t really like Akihabara. As it turns out, it really depends on what shops you visit. I know a couple now that mostly cater towards my interests, but there are also a lot of shops here that cater to a male audience, if you catch my drift. But now, I had a lot of fun window shopping and making a mental list of what’s available. I accidentally bought a couple of figurines last year and that’s definitely a trap, now I keep looking, haha.

It was cooling down, so I fled into the station for my final stop for today: Tokyo station. I was going to head to the café I had my reservation for, but it was like an hour and a half in advance, so I first strolled through the underground Tokyo Station city. There is a street called character street which has a lot of specialized merchandise stores, and I always struggle to find it, but today I just – walked right into it as I was looking for my exit for the café, haha. This time, I ended up buying a couple of clearfiles, and then I slowly made my way to the Yaesu North exit.

A short walk later, I was at my destination: the Pokémon DX store with adjacent Pokémon café! You can only get into the café for a meal if you have reservations. I found out in the nick of time that you only need a credit card if you want to pre-order exclusive goods, so I managed to make a reservation for today a week or so before I hopped onto my plane. I was still too early, so I did a lot of browsing in this Pokémon store. I’ve visited quite some Pokémon stores by now, but this one takes the cake. It’s roomy, big, interactive, and has a ton of products I haven’t seen anywhere else yet. Do you want a Pokémon plushie? You can literally get one for every single Pokémon from the first 2 generations, so like – 251. I was strong and steered clear of plushies today, but I did have a wishlist now, haha. There is also a long wall that shows the development of the games throughout the years, that was so fun and nostalgic to watch!

At long last, I got to enter the café! I was seated at the long table in the center, right next to the statue of Pikachu, and got to order my dishes through the tablet on table, which had multiple language options. Of course, I opted for the limited time Pikachu Halloween plate, and I also got a latte with Pokémon art on it. You can pick from the first 251 Pokémon, but I went with Eevee. I was going to get an Eevee mug separately, because I thought you could only order it with the hot cocoa, but it turns out you can get it with the latte too if you have the Eevee art, haha. So I got a receipt for my order plus mug and settled in to eat. But there was a surprise: Chef Pikachu came out to meet everyone! Japan sure loves its mascot characters, so you bet they have tons of Pikachu suit characters. (Heck, there’s a whole parade of them in Yokohama in summer.) Pikachu made his rounds to shake hands with everyone and seemed rather taken by the small Pikachu I had brought with me and remembered to put on my shoulder in the nick of time, haha.

The plate was actually pretty good! I mean, not haute cuisine, and you can definitely get more extravagant meals for this price elsewhere, but hey, will it be shaped like Pikachu with a witch hat? I think not. Don’t go to character cafés if you want quality food, but do go if you want to take in the atmosphere and enjoy the way the food looks. Japan is all about presentation.

I had a good time here, although I was too full for dessert, so I ordered a float drink instead inspired by the legendary bird Pokémon Articuno. It was a fizzy drink that was a tad too sweet for my taste, but hey, it came with a free coaster! For every drink, you get a coaster. You can pick a random card on a tablet, and that card determines which coaster you get. Since it’s Halloween season, you could also pick the official Halloween 2019 Pikachu coaster, which I had done for the latte. For the random pick, I got Espeon! Nice.

You can spend at most 90 minutes at the café before your time is up, so after my last photos, I made my way to the register to pay for my food, a set of clear files, and of course my new Eevee mug, which they promptly wrapped up nicely for me, so I can’t show a picture of it yet, haha. I then wandered into the store to grab some goods I had gotten my eye on (not all for me! I do souvenirs for others too!), and finally made it out again. Sadly, it had started to drizzle, so I walked to the station fast and made way to Ikebukuro.

So now here I am! Tomorrow is a holiday since it’s the enthronement of the Emperor, but they postponed the procession until November due to typhoon Hagibis (and I bet they don’t regret that decision now, what with the current weather). It doesn’t sound like there’s a lot to see for us mere mortals. Although I suppose this means I’m physically closer to my country’s king and queen than I’ve ever consciously been back home, as they’re attending the ceremony tomorrow, haha. Ah well.

With the weather forecast, I think I’ll go over to Ueno Park to visit the National Museum of Nature and Science, since I’ve been throwing that one longing looks since 2010, but never let myself visit before. And after that, I’ll see – maybe some karaoke? I’ll hold off on more shopping for now as Wednesday will be busy (Disney!), and then I’ll just see what the weather will do and what my safe options are, because I’m not gonna take unnecessary risks.

It’s getting late here, so I’ll upload the pictures tomorrow morning. Good night for now!

[yessoupy]

a fic tease: baseball!harry

i’ve been turning this idea over in my brain since july 10, 2016. the first line of that idea was

The team is shit, and Harry Styles is the most attractive piece they have.

jeff was his agent, of course, trying to get harry to cut his hair to look more appealing to the yankees but harry was stubborn. he wanted to stay with oakland and it was his walk year. 

but THAT is a different story, i think. i’ve had this story percolating since september 2018 where i declared that i was FINALLY going to write the baseball!harry au and then promptly got sidetracked by the desus teacher au i’m currently publishing. anyway, the pics of harry throwing that ball around in hershey really put it into my head that this idea isn’t COMPLETELY absurd.

write what you know, they say, so of course harry is an oakland athletic. i’ve put links in here if you need more context. i’ll warn you -- i became an oakland fan through the process of reading fic so ... beware. this could be some dangerous stuff.

here’s the first scene of what should be a much longer fic. oh! set in 2018. at least this part is. who knows what’s gonna happen with the rest.

The average baseball game lasts around three hours. And the first nine innings? They’d been fast.

That’s right, first.

One time on the radio Harry’d said to a fellow Englishman, “being a relief pitcher in the American League, I’m never threatened with the prospect of hitting.” The last time he held a bat with the intent to swing was three seasons ago when the whole bullpen had a bet going during batting practice. He’d made weak contact on a couple of pitches and the ball hadn’t left the infield. He’d lost the bet.

But now he’s standing in the on-deck circle in the eighth hour of a baseball game. They’d lost the designated hitter in the thirteenth inning, when Phegley had taken a foul ball off his hand and Lucroy, who’d come in as DH in the ninth, had to take over behind the plate. Harry had pitched the last five outs the night before so he was officially unavailable but even with the expanded bullpen of September, he’d been thrown in for the top of the twenty-third.

It’s an inning and a half later and he finds himself faced with the prospect of hitting. And if he doesn’t manage to get a hit—Laureano stands on second, the lone man who’s played every minute of this game and he’s fast enough to score on anything that gets out of the infield—he’ll have to head back out to the mound for the twenty-fifth.

Twenty-five fucking innings. At least they don’t have to get on a plane after this game. He feels a little bad for the Rangers but they could just roll over and walk in a run if they really wanted to. Their only saving grace was that it had started as a day game. The seagulls had come and gone hours ago.

The first strains of the at-bat music he’d chosen three years ago as a joke and forgotten about pour out from the speakers and Harry has to close his eyes as the three thousand remaining fans all sound like they’ve had a laugh startled out of them. Let’s go, girls!

Roy Steele sounds vaguely disbelieving when he announces him. “Now batting, number forty-eight, pitcher Harry Styles.”

Man! I feel like a woman!

Grimshaw is never going to let him live this down. He’d never told his friend why he’d needed this particular cut of that particular song.

He knows how to look good in the box, at least. This part he’d practiced when he was small, standing in front of the TV watching the tapes his cousin in America sent every year for Christmas. He’d mimic all the batting stances and watched the games over and over again until he had every play memorized. But he doesn’t even get his feet set before the umpire is calling time from the middle of a laugh. It’s Quinn Wolcott, he’d only taken over behind the plate in the thirteenth, when Kellogg took a foul ball off his mask that rang more than his bell and they’d had to rotate in the backup. He’s laughing.

Wolcott whips off his mask and wipes his eyes on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, man, I don’t mean any disrespect, it’s just—”

Harry grins, allowing himself to laugh as well. “Nah, it’s okay, mate. I never thought I’d need it?” he offers as an explanation. “Everyone likes Shania, right?” he nods at Robinson Chirinos, the catcher since the fourteenth. He’s standing with his mask up, staring at him blankly. He spits into the dirt. Or not.

Wolcott gathers himself, finally, and Harry taps the head of his borrowed bat on the plate and raises it up over his shoulder. His approach, which he’d discussed with the hitting coach, is to look like he’s going to swing but then not swing until he’s got two strikes on him. “Maybe he’ll walk you,” Bush had said hopefully. He lets his hands pull through a few inches as the first pitch—a strike—sails over the plate. There’s a smattering of applause from the stands but his teammates are hollering words of encouragement. “Way to take!” and “Thatta baby, you got this!” Harry wiggles his bum at the dugout before taking a step out of the box.

A thought enters his mind as Chirinos tosses the ball back to the pitcher. Chirinos has caught ten inning and his knees aren’t fresh. Everyone’s tired. With one strike on him, Harry makes up his mind.

The second pitch is a big looping curveball that dives into the dirt a foot in front of the plate and gets away from Chirinos. Harry steps back and waves Laureano to third. Chirinos is cursing when he comes up with the ball and jogs out to the mound. Harry steps out of the box, leans the bat up against his crotch, and readjusts the brand new batting gloves he’d been handed when it was clear he’d have to hit. Christenson is feverishly sending signs to him but Harry just shrugs. Melvin had been thrown out in the twentieth and it doesn’t matter what the bench coach is trying to tell him because he's already made up his mind and he's sure there's no one of the field who wants this game to end more than he does. It’s the right call. He stares down the third baseline at Laureano and wills the rookie to read his mind. Bunt bunt bunt.

Wolcott makes a move toward the mound and then Chirinos is jogging back. “Pace of play,” Harry laughs as the catcher settles himself behind the plate and Chirinos spits out some reply Harry can’t make out. Probably rude, but Harry can’t care anymore. The winning run is ninety feet away and he just wants to go home.

The pitcher leans in to read the signs and sets himself to throw.

When it’s over, he’s not really sure the order of events except that Laureano crosses the plate as his own weak ground ball finds its path between the first baseman and the second baseman. Harry stops in his tracks when he hears the fans roar (or what passes for roaring after almost eight hours of baseball) and then the next thing he knows his jersey is being pulled off his body and his teammates are shouting in his face and banging on his (borrowed) batting helmet.

A microphone is shoved in his face and Dallas Braden is asking him how it feels to be the hero of this game and his dazed (does he have a concussion from the helmet-banging?) answer is interrupted with two shaving cream pies to his face and a gatorade cooler of water poured over his head. Seven hours and forty-seven minutes and when he gets into the clubhouse, finally, it’s Shania Twain playing over the speakers.

It’s September 2nd.

[hqimaginess]

Heeeeeey!!! I'm your fan & your writing is awesome💫 May I request a scenario or headcanons with 3th year Lev who's in a long distance relationship with Karasuno's manager and she's also a halfie and just cute re-encounter and banter during bthe training camp. Maybe a bit of angst because of a misunderstanding with Nekoma's manager who has a crush on Lev and starts some drama? Also, can I request a chubby reader? Anyways thanks so much and feel free to twist the prompt ♥️

It’s crazy how long this took for me to get out. It literally deleted itself four times so this scenario has caused me to pull all my hair out. Also,,,,I’m sorry anon, you said I could twist the prompt so I took quite some liberty with this one. And another thing, may not be the best of quality but it’s long as all hell, and I hope that somehow makes up for it

You checked your phone one last time before putting it back into your pocket, your eyes shortly after returning to the window you sat next to. Your mind was completely elsewhere as you stared at the cars and buildings that passed by in a blur. The pace of your heart picked itself up a few levels as you thought of what was to come, an excited and childlike smile gracing your features. ‘Two more hours.’  Only two more hours, and you were going to see Haiba Lev, your boyfriend of three years, again.

As it had uncountable times, Karasuno was on their way to another summer training camp held with Nekoma. And you were, of course, happy for your team members and the fact that they would have more time to practice against a strong team. However, that couldn’t concern you one bit, in all honesty. You were beyond happy for them. But much bigger, much more important things filled your mind. You were going to see your boyfriend again after three whole months of his absence in your life. Sure, there was texting and FaceTime. But it wasn’t nearly enough for you, not anymore. You wanted to hold him like you always did during these reunions, you wanted to feel him after so long of being apart, you wanted to see him. Not through the screen of your phone, but with your very own eyes. And because of just that, nothing else in that moment could matter too much to you, in honesty. You could only think about seeing him once again; the things you two would do, the things you would say, all of it. ‘Two more hours.’

Time flew by with surprising speed, because before you knew it, you were forcibly swung back to reality by the loud, screeching halt of the bus. You should have waited for the players to get off the bus before you even made an inch to move, as all of the other managers did. But you just couldn’t control yourself. Your legs moved entirely on their own as you ran up ahead, your feet hitting the hard cement before the electric doors could even think to open properly. At once, your eyes were scanning through the crowd of the crowd of volleyball players. It never was all that difficult for you to find Lev, considering just how large he was, even with there being as many people as there were. But still, despite that, you couldn’t see him anywhere, which did add a small layer of disappointment to settle in the pit of your stomach. You made your way through the crowd, pushing past the many very large volleyball players in search for your boyfriend. Despite all your efforts, you still couldn’t find. You did, however, find someone else familiar to you that, for the moment, would do just as good.“Inuoka!” the call of his name lead to the boy the quickly turning his head in the direction of your voice, smiling energetically while he watched your figure jog towards him. The very moment you stopped in front of him, he grabbed you in a large hug, lifting you off the ground. You gave a loud laugh as you hugged him back, your worried mood from earlier fading out instantly from the sight and embrace of your old friend. “How are you?” you asked once he let go, a little breathless from the sheer tightness of the embrace. He grinned, his hand now resting on your shoulder, “I’m good. Even better now, you?”

“Oh right! I’m good, I’m looking for Lev, though. Have you seen him?” you asked, much calmer now as the question reminded you of what you originally came to ask him for. And from what you assumed was thought, his hand removed itself from its place on your shoulder, and his smile faltered just the slightest bit. But said once more, you assumed it was from thought more than anything else, so you chose it to be fine. “Yeah, the last place I saw him was at the entrance to the main building over there,” he pointed to where he was talking about, and with that, you were gone, continuing on with your original task after giving your friend a tight, slightly lingering goodbye hug.

It didn’t take you long to reach the door, just a few instances of weaving through several of  those ridiculously tall athletes. After that was over, you pushed your way through the doors and were straightaway introduced to the sound of giggles emitting from two people. Your eyes flickered to where the laughter was from, and with seeing who you stood there, your smile broadened greatly while your heart skipped a minor beat, sunshine practically radiating off of you.  Leaning against the back wall of the very large entrance room, stood the silver haired boy who you had been looking for this entire time, as well as a girl who you didn’t know. You didn’t know her, yet she looked oddly familiar. But then you remembered, ‘Ah, wait. I think she’s that new manager for Nekoma.’  The two of them laughed together quietly, over what you assumed to be a joke he had told earlier. You couldn’t concern yourself with that matter very long, however. You were too focused on your current happiness over just the mere fact you had found him to notice any signs. Signs of what was here, and what was to come.

“Lev!” His head snapped towards your direction and his eyes widened. The male wasn’t offered much time to reply, however, as you already had started your way over to the pair of them. The second you reached him, you were immediately on Lev, hugging him with enough warmth and tenderness to melt a glacier. “Oh! I’m sorry. I was on my way outside to look for you, but I just got a little sidetracked for a second,” he tried to explain while his arms draped themselves over your figure, a nervous laugh playing at his tone. With your head buried into his chest, you shrugged it off and gave a hum, attempting to voice to him your lack of concern without using words. But after a few seconds, you had to pull your face away from his chest to look up and meet Lev’s eyes, your giddy and excited smile melting to turn into something a thousand times more adoring towards him. “That’s fine. I get to see you again, that’s all I care about,” your voice practically quivered and your eyes practically sparkled with each word from the absolute excitement of it all. The other girl was on her way to leave by now. In the very back of your mind, you couldn’t help but to find it strange that the girl had not left earlier than this, but again, you chose to ignore it. You’ve always been a perceptive girl, noticing many things, no matter how small. But somehow, by some means, you managed to miss the way your boyfriend’s eyes briefly flickered to the girl’s leaving form, his gaze following her movements just a moment before hurriedly returning back to you, a small, unsure smile stretching across his face. You, somehow, managed to not notice this. Or again, maybe you just chose to ignore it.Two days of the training camp had gone by with a breeze, with everything going as it should. Everything had gone as it should, aside from the fact that you had been given barely a moment to spend with your boyfriend, just the two of you on your own. Being the leading manager to a team of energetic, rowdy teenage boys was already difficult enough for its own reasons. But with this added onto it, one would describe you as more than irritable. However, as it often did, that irritation soon erased itself, while it was then replaced your usual eagerness and enthusiasm. Because in between one of the matches, Lev managed to break away from the rest of his team as he walked up to you. The ace leaned down quite some amount and quietly spoke in your ear, tone low enough to where no one else would hear clearly, as he simply said, “Meet me by the entrance at nine.” After finished speaking, he flashed you a look, one that in truth, you couldn’t completely define at the moment, before he promptly returned to his place with the rest of the Nekoma team.The scenery that surrounded you that night was nothing far from beautiful, it was absolutely stunning. It would have been completely pitch black if it hadn’t been for the thousands of stars that laid painted across the sky, providing just the right amount of illumination for you to be able to see the every defined detail of the trees that stood tall and proud, enclosing your vision to their masses. And it was gorgeous, taking the breath straight from your very lungs.It was strange, even a little ironic, maybe. It was strange just how little the beauty you saw matched the words you heard just moments ago.“I’ve met someone else.”

It was a very simple sentence that didn’t explain very much. It was quite a bit vague, in fact. It could have meant so many things, and yet, you could say that in that moment, you knew exactly what those words meant. It was a gut feeling, but still, you knew. But still, even while having the strongest gut feeling of the meaning behind these simple words, you still asked with a shaky voice, “What do you mean?”

“I met a girl. And, well, I really like her,” he didn’t really finish his explanation all that well, but he didn’t really need to. Your hunch only strengthened as to what he was trying to get at, you guessed Lev just couldn’t find the words to break the news to you in a way that seemed at all genuine. A harsh swallow travelled down your throat while your hands balled into fists, the grip alone on yourself so tight that you could feel your nails tempting to break through the skin of your palm. Your heart was beating so wildly that it almost stopped you from hearing all other noise, as it filled your eardrums to the absolute brim, which in turn added a headache to all the other symptoms you were currently feeling. You wanted to say something so desperately, but you couldn’t. What could you have said? How does one respond to hearing things like this? You didn’t know, and so you settled for standing in silence, eyes still not yet leaving his uneasy figure.

As it seemed you were unable to speak, you instead used the time to rack your brain, search for memories. There had to be signs, there had to be things that you hadn’t noticed or things that you simply had chosen not to notice. It didn’t take barely any time for it to hit you, almost all of it at once; The secretive giggles, the quick side glances, all of it. ‘How could I have been so dumb.’

“The new manager.”

Lev merely nodded at your observation. You must have been a masochist, because after seeing his confirmation, you had one question left, “Have you two…done anything together?” 

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

‘Oh.’ You didn’t need to hear any more to know what exactly that meant. You didn’t think your heart could feel more pain than it already had, but in that moment, you were proven dead wrong.

It felt as if your stomach were twisting itself in a knot and your blood was running cold. Tears threatened to leak from your eyes, as they so desperately wanted to. But you didn’t want to give him that. You didn’t want to give Lev the power in seeing you cry because of what he’d done, and so, because of that, you held them down, using all of your strength to do. Instead of letting those tears fall, you forced your eyes to search the boy’s face, trying to find something, anything that resembled some form of remorse. It only ended with you turning up empty handed. Lev looked guilty, but he didn’t look sorry.

Another realization hit you then. Somewhere down the line, somewhere during those three years of you knowing this man, something, which was very fundamental, had changed. This was not the boy you had originally met and grown to fall in love with. This was not the energetic boy who had sometimes been too honest for his own wellbeing.

As you continued to stare at his expression, the more you were sure of it; something had changed during these years, this was not the man you once knew, this was not the man you once loved. And with the more you thought about this, you could feel the gut wrenching sadness that had once settled in the pit of stomach fade ease and have its place taken by anger. Rage, even.You took a couple steps towards him so that there was only just a foot between you and Lev. One would guess that the new emotion you were beginning to was as clear as the sky on that face of yours, because as you took those steps, Lev’s own face contorted into surprise, his eyes growing slightly alarmed. Once the gap between you was for the most part closed, you jabbed the tip of your index finger into his chest, earning a good huff from him. “You cheated on me? You’ve been leading me on for three months as I waited patiently for you. I turned down people that have wanted to hang out so many times whenever they asked me to hang out, just so I could make time to call you. And for what? For you to not only sneak off with some first year, but for you to break it to me in this half assed way? Well, fuck you,” your heated words obviously surprised Lev, as it was now his turn to stare at you, his face basically covered by the mere size of his widened eyes and his gaping mouth, an expression that reminded you very much of a large eyed fish out of water. He couldn’t find the words to say in response to your outburst, which ended up only irritating you further.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, which in reality may have been only just a few moments, you stepped back, giving him one more chance to say something, anything. And yet, still, he gave you nothing. You turned to walk away, thinking yourself finally done with the entire situation, but you were only able to take a few steps towards the doors of the main building before you suddenly stopped and looked back at him. Seeing his face seemed to only fan your flaming mood. Neither of you had expected what happened next, as it had happened within just the blink of an eye. It was purely out of instinct, you only realized what you’d done after the damage had been laid down.

Without you even being offered the chance to think over it, your hand reached out with all its force and striked Lev right across the cheek, the action producing a sharp sound that vibrated through your very core, then settled heavily in the depth of your stomach, heavy as if it were cement. He had almost a clear foot of height on you, and he was beyond stronger than you. Physically, there was not much impact aside from the glowing red mark that began to spread across his cheek, leaving a small stinging twinge in its wake. But the shock factor made up for all of that, and it was good enough for you. For a handful of seconds, he stared at you, and you stared right back at him. But you couldn’t bear to look at his face for much longer than this. And so, before Lev could properly react to any of it whatsoever, you made your final turn to leave and hurriedly walked back into the building. Lev called your out in an attempt to get your attention back on his. But like all of his attempts tonight, it was a weak attempt, an attempt you deemed no longer worth your time.

Your eyesight was blurred to an extreme extent as you now let the tears, ones that had been so begging to leave with such aching want for so long, flow freely. You couldn’t concern yourself with any of your surroundings, all you could do in that moment was try and find your way back to your bed with this new partial blindness. But there was a small noise of someone ahead of you, causing you to turn your head up while you tried to see who was out there. It was still dark, and your vision was already blocked enough from your previous and current crying. After squinting your eyes a good amount, you could just barely make out a vague image of the person, it was vague but, still, you could tell who exactly it was.

You felt a huge rush of relief fill your entire being, a small smile playing at your tired lips, “Inuoka.”

Inuoka opened his mouth to speak when his eyes landed on your tear streaked face, obvious concern towards your emotional appearance evident on his own face. But not a word could be currently said as you suddenly shushed him for some unknown reason. You heard small, distant footsteps approaching the two of you, which you could only assume to be Lev returning back to his room, as you had been. You didn’t want to see him again, you couldn’t. Not yet, at least. And so, you did what, in that moment, you thought to be the most logical answer to avoiding your newly established ex. With surprising quickness, you grabbed Inuoka’s wrist and dragged him behind you, completely ignoring his protests of confusion as you pulled him into the nearest storage closet with you.

Once the two of you had finally caught your breath, your hands began to trail the walls in search of any light switch. It didn’t take you long to find one, as a very dim light bulb that hung above the two of your heads slowly brightened, swaying back and forth slightly.

You were no longer shedding tears, but it was obvious that you had been. Your eyes were puffy and red, and your nose was sniffly. “Are you okay?” Inuoka finally asked as everything settled, his voice was unsure of himself, yet undoubtedly concerned. You couldn’t have said anything at that moment, so you simply shook your head, your eyes casting themselves downwards to stare at the floor. You focused on the small details of the floor because, at that time, anything would have been better than meeting those intense eyes of his. He seemed to understand because he nodded, accepting your silence as an answer.

But Inuoka couldn’t just stand there and watch you fall, he couldn’t allow himself to let you take whatever burdens you had been holding one your own. And so his body moved, almost on its own accord. And though it surprised you, you said nothing while you felt his arms wrap around your frame, pulling you flush into his chest. You instantly closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around him in return, accepting his affections with open arms. Inuoka’s hugs had always been so incredibly warm, as well as crushingly tight. Every time he would trap you in these numerous embraces, it always felt as if you had no escape, no matter what. But it wasn’t as if you ever wanted to escape his embrace to begin with.

After what seemed like forever, yet still not being long enough, he let go of you. There was just a small moment of silence before you asked him, suddenly curious, “Why were you out here?”

To this, he smiled that teasing grin of his. A smile, that deep down, added a feeling that had been long ago suppressed within you, one that had always made your heart stutter from its original beat, “I heard someone shouting, so I wanted to check it out. You always have been pretty loud.” In response to his comment at you, you gave his shoulder the punch that, in your opinion, he well deserved, but you still couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on your previously gloomy expression.

“You wanna talk about it?” he finally asked you, his eyes a small bit curious but also very concerned. From thought, you sighed. In truth, you didn’t want to talk about any of it. It was be hard to relive the events of tonight, it would make you officially realize it was over. But despite yourself and these thoughts, you sat yourself down on the floor and crossed your legs before promptly patting the space in front of you. Inuoka did as you gestured to and sat down directly in front of you, and since there being not much room in the supply closet, he ended up being very close, the both of your knees practically overlapping one another. It did add a small prick of discomfort to your situation, considering the smallness of the space you were in. Yet, contrasting that original feeling of discomfort, it did add a strange form of consolation for you, just being so close to someone, well, being so close to him.

And so you told him everything that had happened. You retold all of the details of your affairs that night, the good, the bad, all of it. Well, considering there hadn’t been much good to your night, it was mostly the bad.

With retelling your heated moments, you began to grow heated again yourself. During different moments of speaking, you had your energetic ups and downs; you had your moments of pride, your moments of outrage, your moments of sadness. During all these moments, Inuoka simply watched in silence, nodding every now and then if you ever looked at him for some shape of agreement. Other than that, he just sat there, watching in silence while he patiently waited for you to get all of the steam left in you, out. With time, you did, getting every single frustration of yours out with one final, fluid motion. You looked back at Inuoka, just slightly breathless from your lengthy speech, while you began to feel your mood, as well as self esteem, sink lower and lower from the deadly silence.

“Was it me? Was it something I did wrong?” you asked, more to yourself than anyone else, the feeling of your voice cracking between every other syllable only adding salt to your already ghastly opened wound. With these words, Inuoka felt finally compelled enough to speak up. He grabbed your hand with his, his grip firm and unrelenting, as his other hand placed itself on your cheek with much more gentler touch, forcing you to look at him dead in the eyes. His touch surprised you, but once again, you made no effort to shy away from it. So you just stared at him, eyes widening only slightly from the sternness of the contact. “What are you saying? Why would you even say that? I’m blown away that you would even think that it’s an ounce of your fault,” he began, his tone sounding agitated while a frown set itself on his lips. From his sharp tone, a deep frown grew on yours as well. Inuoka noticed your mood plummeting even further, and so his features softened just as quickly as they had originally hardened. After a quick second of stillness, Inuoka leaned forward, just a small distance, and placed chaste, slow kiss to the top of your head, just getting past the hairline. His movements were slow, but deep down, you found yourself thinking it to be all too quick. It was such a small action, and yet it was so comforting, so incredibly significant in all its fond gentleness. It was small, yet at the same time it had been so very big. Something in the atmosphere of this tiny storage closet had changed after this touch. What it had changed exactly to, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it had changed, that was sure.From the quiet, you suddenly felt the pad of his thumb stroke the back of your hand, and a quiet, croaky voice asking, “Is this okay?”

You knew he wasn’t talking about your hand, and he knew you knew that. You knew exactly what Inuoka meant. And despite knowing exactly what he meant, being a little breathless, you said, “Yes.” Your eyes closed as you felt it, the soft pressure against your lips. His movements were gentle and careful, a little unsure, even. Inuoka’s lips were warm, heated with comfort. Lev’s always had been very cold.

Thoughts of the other male left your mind as soon as they had come, because you felt Inuoka’s hand leave yours and take its place at your other cheek. As he held your face with such security, you couldn’t help but lean forward, pressing your weight into the male. Heat rose to your cheeks, sending a ticklish, pleasant tingle throughout your entire body. You opened your eyes for just a mere moment, and you saw his eyes closed, as yours had been, his features inflamed from his embarrassed expression. Seeing this, something in you snapped, broke.

It may have been that you were not exactly in the right place of mind because of your extremely recent and heavy breakup. Or, it may have been the constant, almost suffocating tension that has been building up from years of time, entrapping the both of you with its friendship. You didn’t know what it was, and you couldn’t care. All you knew, was that in that moment, something in you snapped, and you threw all remaining caution to the wind.

In just a split second, you found yourself pushing the brunette down onto his back, knocking the wind out of him as you then straddled yourself onto his hips, pressing your weight into his. You were wasting no time in escalating the position you two were in, as your tongue slipped past his lips, this being very easy considering the gasp he’d given earlier, the both of you moaning softly into one another’s mouths at the simple contact of tongues. His warmth was absolutely intoxicating, as was yours. It was nothing below addictive. The potent taste of his mouth, the smooth feel of his lips, the spreading warmth of his hands that left an overwhelming fire in its wake with every inch of skin he touched; it all was edging you closer and closer into a frenzy. 

In the midst of the make out, your mind somehow found it’s way drifting back to the silver haired boy who, just moments ago, you were so furious with. The two of you had made out on countless occasions, of course. But they never had became so heated or so impassioned, either you or him would end up stopping half way through, never pushing past that line. Maybe that’s why things ended between the two of you the way that they did. And maybe that’s why you ended up here, broken up and now on top of your best friend, tied with him in aching fervency. Inuoka seemed to be very welcoming of it, as well, his tongue dancing with yours with as much eagerness as yours, hands gripping excitedly at your hips as they rocked into his, your hands resting at his shoulders. The soft, gentle sounds the both of you made combined together, twirled to form one, flawless melody. Your hands finally reached where they had been itching to reach, where things would truly accelerate. Your fingers danced across the button of his jeans, twirling it between your fingers for a moment before finally beginning to push it through the hole holding it, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Wait, wait, stop.”

These words surprised you, and so you did as he said, you stopped. You pushed yourself away from Inuoka, the both of you left panting heavily in order to take back the air once lost. You stared at his flushed face, your face heating up tenfold in turn as the true realization hit you at what you had just done. Not only what you had just done, but he had also turned you down, as well.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you sputtered out frantically, it felt as if your face would explode from the heat building in it. This was awful, completely horrendous. Within one night, you had been both dumped and rejected, somehow, things could not have been more embarrassing for you.

Embarrassment, however, left you for a brief moment as it was then replaced with confusion when you saw the brunette shake his head, a small smile playing at his lips even as his blush managed to deepen. “No, don’t be. I want to do this with you. God, I want to. But you’re not thinking clearly right now,” Inuoka started, and you had a very strong urge to argue with him on his latter comment, but continued to hold your silence as you listened on to his reasonings.

His face looked serious, no longer holding its flustered gaze, his own words reflecting his serious expression as he spoke, a little quiet, “You’re not over him yet, and I get that. How could you be? But that’s why I’m not gonna go there with you. I’ve waited a long time for you, I can wait a little longer.” It was an indirect way of saying what Inuoka really wanted to tell you, but you understood his meaning. You noticed the last part of his speech and the pace of your  heart picked up at an alarming rate, the beat of it so powerful you could feel the tingly bass of it through your fingertips. Rather than arguing with him, for the several things he said, you simply looked at him, eyes entranced by his own. 

Eventually, after what felt like a millennium, you couldn’t help but to smile at him. It was a very strange smile, one that sent the boy too many messages to all be read. It showed him that he was right, you weren’t ready for him. But you could be, and you would. It showed him you were thankful, for the company as well as the understanding. It showed him that you loved him, and you always had in some part of you, but still, you weren’t ready, not yet.

You grabbed his hand in yours, your grip hesitant and apprehensive as you leaned forward, placing one last kiss on his lips before slowly pulling away. The kiss acted as a temporary goodbye to such affection. The both of you knew what you had to do before anything could even begin to think of blooming as it so desperately wanted to. You had to figure out all the many things happening in that mind of yours, along with all the things of your heart. You had to “find” yourself, as some would say. But that was fine. Inuoka had waited a long time for you, and he could wait some more.

[yourmarketingmavenprblog]

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A premium watch, if taken care of and treated well will last for a lifetime as well as also hundreds of years. Individuals can easily pass their watches to their kids or even their grandchildren. Premium watches commonly provide you along with a lengthy factory guarantee in case there are any type of issues.

Putting On A Watch Implies Preparation And Conscientiousness

As a style accessory or even phrase of social standing, putting on a watch might give an additional, albeit implied cognitive impact on wearers, that makes them even more conscientious as well as better coordinators. They commented also that watches "might produce the distinction in between helping make a adverse or even positive first impression at a job interview or overlooking a significant activity like a train".

[fadedtoblue]

Meeting Jon and Elodie!!

Ahhh, I wish I could have posted this sooner, but between the traveling and just trying to gather my thoughts, it took a while. Also I get really word vomit-y (as you’ll soon find out) and then I have to edit back the word vomit a bit so that it’s still comprehensible instead of just gibberish...but eek, so much to share! I’m also breaking my own rule about not showing my face b/c...well, I need to show these pictures off! But please please please don’t repost my pics. Like seriously, just don’t do it :). Thanks!

Now I actually didn’t post about a very crucial part of my day yesterday, mainly because I wanted recap it after the con was done, so I’ll bounce back to that first, which was *drumroll* -- meeting Elodie! I credit this first unplanned meeting to soothing my nerves enough so I could get up the courage to chat Mattelektra with her today...anyway, stay with me, I’m going to get there. I had always planned to do this on Saturday after my photo ops so I’m not, you know, spending so much $$$, but after I discovered that Elodie wouldn’t be doing the panel after all, I decided what the hell, I’d just go ahead and meet her first. First of all, her outfit on Day 1 -- stunning. Like omg what an Elektra red and she looked absolutely stupendous and I was more than a little starstruck. I’m very grateful to the event guy working her table because he was super kind and helped to break the ice as I was coming up to Elodie. I got to show off my Elektra shirt and the Elektra pin on my bag, and she immediately wanted to know where she could get the same one! 

At this point it gets a little fuzzy because I was legitimately SO nervous. She jokingly said to me, “Wow, so you REALLY love Elektra!” and while I definitely fumbled over my words a little bit, I think managed to communicate that my love for Elektra largely came from her performance on the show. I babbled a bit about how I had been a fan of DDS1 but it was really her characterization of Elektra that got me completely hooked! We also talked about SDCC because I mentioned I had come from San Diego and she spent a few moments talking about how crazy that whole experience was. I gush a bit about Defenders at this point since I was able to tell her that I got to see the first episode in Hall H, then binged everything with my husband when it came out, etc etc. I’d wanted to talk a bit more show stuff with her but we both got sidetracked because I’d picked up a few different comics that she could potentially sign and we were looking at them together and trying to decide which one she’d autograph (for the curious, they were Elektra Vol 3 #2, Daredevil Vol 2 #37, and What If Elektra Had Lived) -- she hadn’t seen the DD and What If ones before, and I asked her if she was familiar at all with the What If story. She wasn’t and asked me to tell her what it was about (and you know I LOVE THIS ONE) so I gave her a quick summary and she seemed very intrigued and said she would have to go shopping later to pick up a copy. I told her that I kind of wish she hadn’t autographed it because I would have loved to give it to her, but she was very gracious and sweet about it! After this, we took a selfie together, and me being a nervous fool completely forgot to take my phone out until she gently asked me if I had a phone, heh. Here I am, looking like a dork next to Elodie Yung. Ahhh!

After this, I went to attend Jon’s Q&A, which I posted a bunch of videos from last night. Dude is awesome. I feel like I don’t want too much of his press usually so I didn’t have any major expectations going into it, but he was really genuine and thoughtful and keen on sharing as much as he could with the audience (though if it was about the Punisher show, he shut the hell up lol). Anyway, it was truly a highlight (got to sit front and center which was awesome) and if you haven’t seen it yet, you MUST watch the short clips I took of Jon calling Elodie during the beginning...it’s priceless stuff!! (1st video | 2nd video)

Okay, fast forward to today! I got to do my two photo ops with Jon and Elodie, and then just Elodie. I debated whether to bring my Funkos but decided what the hell, I’m probably not going to have this moment again, let’s make it cute! Elodie was very excited to see them -- she loved that the Punisher one had a black eye? And Jon was like, wait, what do you want me to do??, and I said, just hold them and smile big and Elodie was like, yeah, you know, your job. So cute that one! Jon clearly did not follow directions lol. 

And because I’m such a friggin’ superfan (like, there was no way to hide this at this point, I just had to own it), I go back and do my solo op with Elodie. Who totally recognizes me and attempts to make small talk even though it is frowned upon. I asked her if she could hug my DD tsum tsum which she was super game for. Again, she looks freaking adorable here! 

Last thing on my list was to get their autographs on my group photo before I had to leave town. I started at Jon’s because there’s a bigger line and honestly, it was a lot of fun watching people interact with him. Like he’s so naturally charming, I think I hadn’t really seen him enough outside of his shows / movies to evaluate this, but crap, I get it now. And his VOICE. I feel like all of the ladies were in a tizzy haha. He even held a freaking baby while I was waiting. Honestly, I would have asked him to hold my baby too. Oh and he was chewing gum like a fiend, which I only noticed because he kept playing around with it while he was talking to people. And like he literally had tubs of Orbit gum and was like, shaking them into his mouth in massive doses. So...fun fact of the day for you Jon fans? 

I did realize as I got closer to the front that I had no freaking idea what the hell I was going to say to him, mostly because I’d been using all of my mental energy thinking about what to say to Elodie. So unfortunately the moment here was fairly short. He was super sweet and polite, said Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Jon :), which was kind of adorable. He was excited to see the photo we took, and spent a few brief moments exclaiming over it, like awww Elodie is so cute but ugh, look at my ugly mug. To which I promptly rebutted that he was plenty handsome and he gave me a smile. He was thinking kind of hard about what to sign and ended up adding a nice big heart which was very cute. Then I asked if I could give him a hug, to which he said of course!! Got up and came around and gave me a nice big hug. I told him thank you for coming out and he said Thanks mama, you have a good one (or something like that) and damn if that didn’t make me a little shaky. Which basically confirmed that I’m screwed if I ever meet Charlie Cox. 

Okay so THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF FRIENDS: MEETING ELODIE AGAIN. When Elodie saw me she was sooooo nice (instead of being like omg you weirdo lol), and was like hello again!! You’re really making the most of your weekend!! And I was like yes, yes I am :p. Told her how I came here solo just to get to meet her and Jon, left my two littles at home with my husband, and we got to small talk about my fam and I got to tell her how my youngest daughter stole my little stuffed Elektra and won’t give it back (true story, she refused to give up her Elektra so I had to buy another one). But here is nice little moment :) -- after our first meet the other day, I wanted to get her a copy of What If Elektra Had Lived so she could have her own, b/c let’s be honest, she wasn’t going to be able to shop while she was there, and who knows when she’d get her hands on it, if ever. So before I gave her my photos, I referenced our first meet and handed her a copy of What If Elektra Had Lived I’d bought earlier that day. She was like omg! and seemed genuinely surprised and pleased about it, like she actually got up out of her chair and came over to give me a hug, which was like eek! So that was such a lovely memory to have of her!

As we’re figuring out how to sign the new pics, I mentioned that I was super bummed she didn’t get to do the panel the other day (to which her and her manager provided a really nice explanation, and Elodie seemed genuinely disappointed to not have done it) and that I even had a question prepared and everything. To which she said, well, we can just have a chat about it now! To which I was like uhhhhhhhh OKAY. Ahhhh!

I’m going to bullet point these so 1. they’re easier to read and 2. so they don’t get lost in the shuffle b/c I’ve already wasted too much time babbling (ugh, I’m sorry, I overshare details, I know!). Keep in mind I didn’t want to be over the top or too serious / intense so I didn’t ask my actual question for the panel b/c it seemed a little too much, but instead just tried to let it flow naturally so that if she had thoughts she could share, and if not, that’d be okay too!

First, I reiterated what a huge fan I am of the Matt and Elektra relationship (understatement of the YEAR) and how she’s done such an amazing job with it and my question was whether she knew they were going to go that direction on the Defenders with Matt and Elektra because my god that ending was beautiful, and romantic, yet messed up at the same time. She was like YES I know!! And then shared a few thoughts: Marvel doesn’t tell them ANYTHING, but she asked a lot of questions so she could find out more info / clues and so yes, she did have a very good idea of where her arc was going to go. She was very excited about the storyline but you know, couldn’t say anything about it so she wasn’t sure how people were going to react but she had hoped they would react well. I, of course, told her that I LOVED IT, that it really hit me right in the heart.

This lead into a bit of a discussion about Elektra’s fate, and she was so adorably indignant about it like, there’s no way Elektra didn’t survive right?? I said of course! Who else was going to save Matt?? Which made her go like oooooh...but she quickly clarified she really doesn’t know how they’re going to explain it, but the agreement was implicit. She emphasized again that she doesn’t know if she’s going to be back but again...there has to be more Elektra, right?

Then I asked her how it was working with Charlie and if she had some favorite scenes they'd done together. This was a lovely bit of conversation for obvious reasons :D. She loves working with Charlie and had very kind things to say about him -- how he’s such a generous actor, always willing to try different things, and that all of their scenes together are such good scenes. But if she had to choose a favorite, it would definitely be the bed scene in 2x08 -- and she’s setting up the scene for me, as if I don’t already know it, but it was AMAZING hearing her talk about it -- “You know that scene, when I’m telling Stick I don’t want to be with him anymore, I want to be good, I want to be with Matthew? The bed scene after that." -- f’ing brilliant stuff. She then said her next favorite scene was dying in Charlie’s arms in 2x13. Little ol’ shipper me of course has to excitedly agree about how it was SO good, and I got to call out their beautiful conversation together before the fight and how emotional that made the death scene and I wasn’t expecting that. And then how I absolutely did not expect the ending of Defenders to also be so emotional!! Like the fighting and the emotion of the scenes (and I wish I had been more specific but I was just fangirling tbh :p). To which she was like omg yes! It was so emotional, and the fight was so tiring -- took a lot of days to shoot, but it was so worth it. She doesn’t know if Elektra will be back but she really hopes so, she expressed that it didn’t feel like the end. 

And this point we sadly transitioned out of Mattelektra stuff and into more Elektra stuff because then we were talking about the chances of her showing back up again. She actually had some interesting tidbits here -- apparently she was super surprised at the fan reaction to her in the Defenders. Like Marvel or Netflix, I’m not sure which one, they actually got in touch with her directly, asking if she’d seen the social media reactions?? Based on what they were tracking, she was a definite fan favorite. And that seemed to be a genuine surprise on the Marvel side too. So what that means for the future, who knows?? I did throw in a little hopeful, maybe you could have a solo series, but she kind of laughed it off like ehhhhh I don’t know about that, but I hope I get to come back!

And I think...I think...that was it :). I thanked her for making my weekend, nay, my year with this con, and she was such an absolute sweetheart about it and thanked me too and then...that was it. My glorious moment with Elodie wrapped up as quickly as it begun! But I’m so happy I got over my nerves and got to have a conversation with her like a normal person and I’m so freaking happy she is our Elektra. She is the epitome of class, grace, and kindness and Marvel better keep giving her work!! 

And thank you Tumblr friends for reading this long-ass novel and following my goofy adventures this weekend. It’s been a real trip and I am thankful that I have you awesome people to freak out tf to because I can’t really do this in real life. Anyway, I appreciate each and every one of you, just know that :D.

[filosofablogger]

How, I ask you, did it get to be Monday so fast?  And … do you realize that January is almost half over?  That means the year is 1/24 over, or 4.1% … gone … poof!  In another month, we will all be one full month older! 

Anyway, it is Monday, so … it must be time to start your week with an all-new Jolly Monday!  Today’s food theme, for no other reason than that Jolly and I deemed it to be so, is … blue.  Take heart, though, we didn’t dye the coffee & tea blue!  So, grab a blue snack and let Jolly and I put some smiles on those faces, ‘k?

And, two special treats … a blue sprinkled donut for Benjamin, and a promised Black Forest Gateau for David!

           Chicken?  Or spinach?

I’ve written a few times about Popeye’s Chicken restaurant … they seem to be in the news a lot these days!  Well, the latest … have you ever seen that game show called “Family Feud”?  I saw it once or twice way back in the day, probably the 1980s or so, and thought it was dumb just like all the game shows, so I never watched it again.  But, they pair up two families, and each are asked trivia-type questions, the family that collectively scores the most points by getting the questions right, wins.

So, earlier this month, a woman named Eve Dubois and her family were competing against the Tomlin family, and the score was tied … it was the final question.  Whoever answered this one correctly first would take home $10,000!  The question was …

What is Popeye’s favourite food?

Now, of course the question meant Popeye the Sailor Man, who we all know eats spinach by the canful, but Ms. Dubois yelled out excitedly … CHICKEN!  So sure of her answer, she began doing a victory dance … until her opponent correctly answered, Spinach!

So, ‘bye-bye’ Dubois family, no prize for you.  Until … the video clip went viral on social media and came to the attention of somebody in the upper echelons of Popeye’s Chicken.  I’m sure they figured it would be a great publicity stunt, and cost them relatively little, so they offered the Dubois family a little consolation prize …

Ummm … $10,000 worth of fried chicken?  🤢  A heart attack looking for a place to happen!

Technology run amok?

Just because you can isn’t always a good reason to do something.  Now, I admit that most technology has a use, serves a purpose … I’m definitely not one of these people who wants to go back to the days of horse & buggy, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, etc.  I’m even grateful for computers and cell phones, though I dislike the venues the technology has opened for scammers & hackers.  But, I am not a fan of drones.  Unmanned flying machines that can … and often do … kill unsuspecting, innocent people with a blink of an eye.  But … are you ready to ride in an unmanned flying taxi?According to United Press International …

A flying taxi with no pilot made its first U.S. test flight in North Carolina with an audience of about 100 people, including several state officials.

Gov. Roy Cooper, state lawmakers and North Carolina Department of Transportation officials were among the more than 100 spectators at Tuesday’s demonstration of the EHang 216 autonomous aerial vehicle.

The two-seat drone is designed for use in cargo delivery and human transportation.

Seriously?  They think people are gonna ride up in the air in something with no bloomin’ pilot?  Not me!  I don’t even like the idea of them flying over wherever I might be!  You know, and I know that sooner or later, somebody will make a mistake and … kerthud.  Sigh.  Why can’t they just work on developing things like a cure for AIDS, or a way to help homeless people grow food in their refrigerator, or socks that never wear out, or light bulbs that never burn out, or headlights on cars that don’t blind the other drivers … something useful!

A sporting wedding …

Quick question … where did you get married?  No, I don’t mean the town or city, but was it a church, Justice of the Peace, family home …?  I got married by a Justice of the Peace … we were both on our lunch hour from our respective jobs, met at the courthouse, quick got married more or less in dual languages, then we each went back to work.  All very romantic, don’t ya know.  Neither of our sets of parents would agree to attend our wedding, mine because they didn’t approve of him, and his because they didn’t approve of him, either.  Yes, seriously!  More than a few times during our marriage his mom would say to me, “Honey, I don’t know how you put up with him.” So, anyway (I get easily sidetracked these days) …

Last week, Lonnie and Pam Harris of Kodak, Tennessee tied the knot … at Bass Pro Shops, a sporting goods store!  Turns out that Pam works at the local Bass Pro Shops and wanted her co-workers to be able to attend her wedding.  Says Lonnie …

“I asked her out on a date 37 years ago and she told me no. It took me 37 years to get her to say yes.”

The manager of the location said the store previously hosted a wedding about seven years ago.  Well, I guess it’s no worse than a quick wedding at the courthouse on your lunch hour!

HELP!  HELP! CAW!

The Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office received a 911 call from a Lake Worth Beach resident who heard what sounded like a distressed woman calling for help from a neighbor’s house.  When the deputies arrived, they found the owner of the house working on his wife’s car in the driveway while someone can be heard shouting, “Let me out! Let me out!”

The homeowner introduced the deputies to the origin of the cries — his pet parrot, Rambo, on an outside perch.

“I was changing the brakes on my wife’s car and had my 40-year-old parrot, Rambo, on his outside perch where he sings and talks. Sometime later four police officers showed up saying a neighbor called because she heard a woman screaming for help. I promptly introduced the officers to Rambo and we all had a good laugh.”

I found just a few funny signs a couple of weeks ago that I’ve been meaning to share …

Just a few fun cartoons & memes …

And that’s it … what?  Oh!  I forgot the cute animal video … how dare I?  Wait just a sec …

Now, that’s a wrap, folks.  Go forth and have a productive week and remember to share those million-dollar smiles I see on your faces this morning.  People need them now maybe more than ever.  Love ‘n hugs from Filosofa and Jolly!

Jolly Day After Sunday! How, I ask you, did it get to be Monday so fast?  And ... do you realize that January is almost half over? 

[thisisasupergoodidea]

alright, this took forever because i kept getting sidetracked, but here it is. the universe ive slowly been building up. it took so long to write. its so ridiculously lengthy. i almost want to apologize to you if you read it oh my god 
the main story in this universe is project four, in which four people meet Death and tag along on its quest to convince a space wyrm not to eat the world. the death figure, kymoyef, evades capture for nearly 1000 years following the event that takes place in the four cities, observing people and steadily learning about the world as it stores energy for the big confrontation. as an energy being in the form of an object, kymoyef struggles with applying the concept of personhood to itself, but the four people who insert themselves into its business help it understand who it wants to be
kymoyef’s companions love to ask questions and tell stories, one of which is an old folk tale about morality that they know as the four cities. in it, a godlike character asks kymoyef to visit four corrupt cities and raze them to the ground should their corruption be confirmed, so that the seeds of new civilization can be sown in their place. kymoyef goes to the first three places and, finding vanity, enmity, and apathy, destroys them without question. but upon reaching the fourth city and encountering suffering and hopelessness, kymoyef begins to question whether any of these people truly deserved erasure. it refuses to complete its task and instead goes into hiding to plot against the godlike character. kymoyef reveals that this tale is (generally) true 
then i began fussing over details and ended up developing a plot within Sorrowstone, the city of suffering and hopelessness, where i show up close just how depressing it is through the perspective of a newcomer named rin. he joins the camp (which has no name historically since no one remembers it really existed) to escape his past and soon realizes that his stay would be permanent. the endless labor, the bleak and isolated environment, the meager food and supplies, the rampant depression of every other person in the camp - all of this combined prevented anyone from being of sound mind enough to leave. rin sees one death and promptly decides he has a duty to write down everything he observed, whether anyone would ever see it or not. that is the sorrowstone account 
ok. back to the top. one of the four protagonists, caforleh, absolutely loves hearing stories and using them as inspiration for his own grand tales. i really wanted to feel justified in brainstorming for a completely separate project that had nothing to do with project four, so i clapped my hands together and declared that caforleh occasionally works on a piece of fiction that is my project inheritance, in which generation after generation of a particular lineage of siblings are all cursed to the same fate. in their lives, only and always two children will be born, quite often twins, and one will die by the actions of the other at some point. the most recent siblings are separated at a very young age after the murder of their mother, but years later one dies all too suddenly and the adults involved are sent into a panic trying to hide it from the other sibling. magic shit happens and basically you have the dead ones consciousness in the body of their sibling, not realizing theyre dead yet technically alive again, and the living ones consciousness is bound to a piece of paper in a wizard’s pocket. and everyone’s trying to run away from a cult faction that wants their leader back, but surprise, the living sibling was their leader. its a convoluted mess 
in the background of this mess i found a nice little home for the magic pendant, a story that is literally just my 11th grade spanish project. a guy has a cool magic pendant. some magic dude steals it. the guy and his friend get a magic knife from a magic squirrel and kick magic dudes ass. so magical. i took that and pumped in extra details that made me happy, and now its officially enough of a story to be included 
once more to the top. within the world of project four, one of the regions is plagued by a deep rift that scarred the land when scientist daiah’s experiment went horribly wrong. it swallowed several cities and poisoned the people and land around it. the survivors call that area daiah’s shame and send excommunicated criminals there to die as punishment. what they have yet to discover is that the rift is truthfully a tear upon their plane of existence, acting as an opening into an adjacent plane where pure energy resides. the land and people lost in the experiment fell into this other plane perfectly intact, but being that the two planes were never meant to interact in this way, were shortly infected with unknowable ailments. people slowly lost their sanity, their agency, anything that made them who they were. they either became husks or sought violence to distract themselves from their own pain. and the only freedom was to be killed, for time affected nothing in this plane. no one could grow old. the sky never moved. plants absorbed strange air and gnarled into bloated bastardizations 
this is the reality that the protagonists of project dark souls ripoff fell into. wayrain had been traveling with a known criminal through daiah’s shame in the hopes of reaching a region beyond it, and his friend cadmor was secretly a member of law enforcement tasked with making sure the criminal died there. when this was revealed, the three fought and all of them stumbled into the rift to be spat out in the desolate climate of the lost region. i was heavily inspired by dark souls in creating all of this, so honestly just imagine the opening scene of whichever dark souls game and you’ve got the idea of it. wayrain and cadmor have to navigate this sickly area that theyve hardly even heard stories of while also dealing with dangerous people, feeling betrayed by one another, and creeping afflictions. much like rin and caforleh, wayrain takes to learning as much as he possibly can about the surroundings and compiling it all into journals. he travels ceaselessly and does his best to uncover every last mystery, from lost libraries to unmarked graves. cadmor battles his imitation morality as he eases into another role of leadership. the two will clash several times but ultimately reconcile before kymoyef shows up to assess the condition of the rift 
and project fire girl is kinda out of place because it feels entirely standalone, but its actually the origin of most of this stuff, so im hoping i can find a way to squeeze it in somehow. its about a person who wakes up in a fire with no knowledge of how she got there and wanders around aimlessly dealing with the destructive repercussions of her mysterious fire powers, which she can barely control. i know. its sort of like frozen but with fire. but hey spoiler alert: she’s actually a wizard scientist (you can tell i really like my wizards and scientists) that, alongside her cousin, did awful experiments on people in the name of magic science, imbuing them with different forms of magic just to see what happens. and she gave herself fire powers because why the hell not. but the internal flame was so painful that the trauma of it elicited amnesia. she regains these memories in time by meeting the people plagued by the consequences of her actions. not knowing shes the one that did this to them, they work together with her and carry out a plan to expose the other wizard scientist. in the final confrontation, she admits that she regrets what shes done even if the academic community learned a lot from it, and allows herself to be imprisoned 
yeah. like i said, project fire girl was the first narrative in this universe, which came from a dream where she was taken in by an old couple and their adopted daughter and awoke in a bed of bright petals, only to realize that she accidentally set the house on fire in her sleep, killing the whole family. the imagery was so vivid that it stuck with me. project four originated from one of my old minecraft worlds that i unfortunately deleted by mistake and then tried to rebuild. but i couldnt remember what the old build was called so i called it arenos, and that became the first region. once i decided that fire girl was gonna be set in some mountains and that those mountains bordered arenos, i was officially on my way to creating what is now this world. and then more detail happened and kymoyef happened and the concept of the four cities being parallels to the four regions in the world sounded neat but i got carried away and wanted to try to recreate the four cities in minecraft, and only did sorrowstone, so i started to think of what depressing shit went on in that place and wrote a little bit about it 
the dark souls ripoff is, of course, a blatant ripoff of dark souls, but its also a combination of A) another neat dream i had that was just two people traveling on horseback through cold morning fog and being ambushed - one was killed and the other crawled to a nearby basement and hid for an eternity, until the landscape had entirely changed hundreds of years later - and B) a totally separate dream where two people were traveling on horseback through cold evening fog, trying to reach some uncertain destination after having to leave their entire lives behind because they were magic. i was like “i’ve just added two more regions to my world. what if this region has a big rift in it - oh, what if this person hid through the rift incident that sent them to an alternate plane - no wait, what if these other characters were traveling through the rift area and fell in?” 
project inheritance was first called dark souls ripoff 2 because it deals with souls being portable and consumable and the two siblings have to deal with increasing insatiability for souls to keep themselves alive after having their consciousnesses ripped from their bodies. but this story was originally gonna be a text adventure game with like seven hundred endings (im exaggerating a little) testing your ability to forgive and manage your bloodlust. i know. its like a bootleg undertale. i cant have an original thought even if that thought happened two years before the popular thing happened 
thats about it i guess. thats the beginners guide to my utterly incomplete creative endeavors. i have some other ideas that would be neat to pursue but they dont belong in this particular universe as of right now. i might find a way to make them fit. i might not

[enchantedbyhiddles]

Very good read and explains why movie star and good actor are terms to describe different things. And why saying an actor is not a celebrity and not a movie star is not an insult and doesn’t say anything about talent or longevity of a career. Not even about success. Great actors don’t have to be stars and stars are very often not the best actors.

(long article behind the cut)

Like many film critics, I started out to be a mortician, but got sidetracked. Yet vestiges of that childhood vocation linger on in my lifelong fascination with autopsies, particularly postmortems involving epic film failures.

In this context, I have thought a lot about King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, a colossal bomb. There are many things wrong with the film – the story, the directing, the fact that the screenwriter forgot to include Merlin – but the biggest problem is the casting. A few months before the film was released, I started noticing posters advertising a star I didn’t immediately recognise. Somebody named Charlie Hunnam. “Do you know him?” I asked my son.

“He’s the guy from Sons of Anarchy,” he replied.

Well, precisely. He’s not Matt Damon. He’s not Brad Pitt. He’s not James Franco. He’s certainly not Denzel Washington or Jamie Foxx. He’s the guy from Sons of Anarchy, a reasonably popular cable TV show most people have never heard of, much less seen. He’s the guy most famous for almost being in 50 Shades of Grey.

Hunnam reportedly talked his way into the starring role in King Arthur, convincing Guy Ritchie that he could carry the ball. He could not carry the ball, as we now know. Ritchie should have written Lady Guinevere into the screenplay and asked if Gal Gadot was available. One of the most annoying things about King Arthur was Hunnam’s thoroughly predictable turn as a cheeky working-class lad. That worked well in Ritchie’s early movies because cheeky East End lads were in vogue at the time, and Ritchie had rising star Jason Statham on the payroll. Statham brought an affable roguishness to rollicking gangster movies, a quality he has never entirely lost; he was the glue that held the whole thing together. In King Arthur, Ritchie didn’t have anyone to hold the whole thing together. He had the guy from Sons of Anarchy. So the cheeky medieval prole schtick fell flat.

Hunnam is by no means a dud – he is quite good in the art house film The Lost City of Z – and he may yet avoid the fate of Jason Momoa, the large but ultimately ineffective tent pole around which the abysmal 2011 Conan the Barbarianwas erected. Yet the similarities are startling: an actor best known for appearing on a popular cable TV show (Game of Thrones) gets into the ring with the big boys. And promptly gets his head handed to him.

Hunnam is a tad on the generic, nondescript side, especially compared to King Arthur’s nemesis, played by the emphatically non-generic Jude Law, who upstages the putative star of the movie at every turn. Bear in mind that the basic structure of motion pictures has not changed in 100 years: a man has a problem, be it shark, alien life form, loan shark or fascist pig, and he has to solve this problem in less than two hours. If the audience is not interested in the man or the problem, the movie tanks. This is also true of films starring women.

In King Arthur, Law’s problem – Oh, will no one rid me of this cheeky prole? – is more interesting than Hunnam’s problem because Law is more interesting than Hunnam. When the two share the screen, our eyes naturally travel to Law because our eyes aren’t stupid.

Hunnam comes off as a poor man’s Tom Hardy. But here is an intriguing issue. Hardy, remarkable actor that he is, is not an instantly recognisable star like Tom Cruise or Vin Diesel or Sylvester Stallone or the Rock. He has never got top billing in the kind of career-defining film that absolutely everybody on the planet saw: Top Gun, Thelma and Louise, Forrest Gump, The Matrix, Rocky, The Hunger Games. So, is Hardy himself a movie star? Well, if the criterion for being a movie star is the ability to light up the screen as soon as you show up, then there is no question that Hardy is bona fide. But this is different from being a matinee idol or a living legend or an icon or Jennifer Lawrence or any of those other words used to describe our celluloid heroes. Hardy, who has made quite a name for himself by vanishing into assorted roles, has a Zelig-like quality. He’s here. He’s there. He’s everywhere. He can do anything, play anybody: a dimwit New York bartender, a Russian copper, a cruel, atavistic London gangster. Make that two cruel, atavistic London gangsters.

Hardy has an amazing CV. He was brilliant in The Revenant. He was brilliant in Locke, where he spends the entire 85 minutes talking on a car phone. He was brilliant in Bronson, a tour de force about Britain’s most violent jailbird. He was brilliant in Child 44, Inception and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. He was brilliant in good films, brilliant in bad films.

But does that make him a movie star? I’m not so sure. A movie star isn’t somebody film lovers rave about. They aren’t even somebody the general public raves about. They are somebody the ordinary person can pick out of a police lineup. Can you do that with Guy Pearce? Ciaran Hinds? Hugo Weaving? Outstanding actors, all. But movie stars? Hmm. In a way, it all comes down to the vaunted Thespian Brothers Conundrum. Owen Wilson? Movie star. Luke Wilson? Not a movie star. Alec Baldwin? Movie star. Anybody else named Baldwin? Not a movie star.

Let’s just leave the Quaids and the Afflecks out of this.

Here is the problem in a nutshell. Every time I talk to someone about how much I enjoy watching Hardy and how much I look forward to his next film, I have to remind people who he is. C’mon, guys, work with me. Tom Hardy. You know, the bad guy in The Revenant? Didn’t see it. OK then, the bad guy in The Dark Knight Rises? Oh yeah, him. But didn’t he have a mask on the whole time? OK, the guy who played Mad Max the last time around? Oh, yeah, him. The guy with the mask on his face half the movie. But mostly I remember Charlize Theron. And the rest of the girls.

OK, I continue, my hackles up because in my view not worshipping in the Church of Hardy is like refusing to genuflect in the Cathedral of Daniel Day-Lewis, did you see The Drop? No. Lawless? No. This Means War? No. How about the film where Hardy plays the Kray brothers so convincingly you cannot believe it is the same actor playing both Ronnie and Reg? Sorry, didn’t see it.

I don’t have to do this kind of stuff with Jude Law, Mark Wahlberg, George Clooney. I don’t have to do it with Viggo Mortensen or Colin Farrell. I don’t even have to do it with John C Reilly. I certainly don’t have to do it with Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway or Angelina Jolie. So even though Hardy is a better actor than most of them, and in certain instances a much better actor, I never have to pull out my iPhone to remind people who they are. Hardy, like Mark Strong, falls into that category of actors that are simultaneously famous yet hard to describe from memory. Fans of these guys routinely imagine they are bigger stars than they are. They are like rock critics who want Alejandro Escovedo and Son Volt to be more revered than U2. But reality is reality, and reality bites. If you put Tom Hardy on the cover of People magazine, the public would say, “Wait a minute. Where’s Johnny Depp?”

There’s a term for people like this. They are all gods, but they are gods of a lesser order. They are the Working Famous.

Charlie Hunnam should be so lucky.

[beanjuice-duh]

Staying in 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕤

a/n: m o o d. Song prompt, lyrics by Paris (The Chainsmokers) summary: Thomas has been putting off his trip with Martha. Now before its too late, he’s taking her to paradise. warning: death implied/death mentioned, angst, sad ending w/c: 2430

No one usually paid any mind how things end. Usually they remember how it all began. String music plucked from a harp played throughout a small, colorful studio-apartment. The walls were teal and the decor was off white, closer to cream, prints and fresh details of floral prints. The music was light and airy; the sound was the texture of chiffon sheets drying on a clothes line in the middle of a breezy spring day. The woman who played it was the embodiment of spring, dewy eyed, rosy cheeked. Spring meant hope and new beginnings. Thomas found all of that with his new fiancée Martha Wayles. A country girl too perfect that his own family would have assumed she was picked right for him if they didn’t find her career choice frivolous. A music major and a law student one year away from achieving his law degree sooner than his rivaled older sister. “Martha…” Thomas looked up from her love seat that sat in front of her full size bed. She was only a few feet from him with a large propped by the open window. He shook his head and went back to his work, typing away when another loud chord from her harp vibrated in his head. “Martha, I’m trying to work.”

“That’s all you do, work, work, work…” She sang, plucking a chord repeatedly emphasizing every ‘work’. “Why don’t you pick up your violin and play for Me.” “Later, I have to finish this first.” He motioned to his laptop then went back to his screen. “Later, just like you pushed our trip to Paris to a ‘later’ date. And our wedding, and our next visit to your family…Thomas you can stop your work, it won’t go anywhere but I might.” She pouted so delicately but Thomas didn’t look up to see it. “You should have purposed to your laptop.” “Martha wouldn’t you rather marry Thomas Jefferson the lawyer or Thomas Jefferson the almost-lawyer-but-got-sidetracked-and-his-family-won’t-let-him-live-it-down?” He argued, his long fingers tacking away at the keys. She abandoned the harp and danced towards him in little, lithe like steps “I would like to just marry Thomas Jefferson that would be a sound start. I want to go to Paris, Thomas. You’ve been there twice before, I want to go there with you…” “And we will, on our honeymoon after we’re married.” Martha groaned at his response, she scampered away towards the bathroom with a small, aggravated huff. Thomas glanced up watching her retreating frame with a small smile, and then turned back to his work. Martha was a delight, like him, she didn’t’ fit many of the southern tropes. She was an artistic and independent girl with more wit than most men her age. She could spit fire as fast as she could put it out. Much more outspoken that Thomas…much more free and liberal too. Thomas grew up closed off and closed minded behind white picket fences and silver spoons, Martha was a poor country girl who runaway to New York seeking a classical music career. Uncertainty was her flavor and it was a taste Thomas adored. Thomas finished most of his rough draft for his term paper when he heard something crash in the bathroom. Something of glass or ceramic shattered, and then a hard, deep thud followed. “Martha?” Thomas shot up; he closed his computer forgoing any progress he left unsaved. Faced with endings, Thomas had a bad habit of never finishing a book promptly. He hated endings, hated finishing, after every book or song he was left with ‘what now’ before taking on something else. He rather leave a book unfinished with only a page to go and start again from the beginning. Some people say experiences could never be felt the same way twice. Thomas liked to prove them wrong. He came to the last page in Feast of the Goat by Mario Vargas-LLosa and decided he wanted to start again. He was shirtless, sprawled on top of Martha’s bed, his eyes flickering between the book in one hand and the clock. He watched the time behind several pill bottles with blinding red, warning labels. It had been weeks since her fall, but neither of them had hit ground bottom…yet. “Martha are you coming to bed?” Thomas called, eyeing the bathroom, the light still on. He didn’t want for her to answer, he was trained to get up immediately now. He passed the forgotten harp by the window and leaned against the door. His small, fiancé glaring at her reflection, a fist full of thin, whispy dark hair strands, “bed?” “I should shave it all off…I’m shedding like a damn cat…” She spoke, her lips pressed into a thin, white chapped line. “I will shave it off” she yanked open a drawer with so much confidence she almost seemed giddy about the whole thing. Then again, what other choice did she have than to be giddy? Life wasn’t giving her any room to cry over the loss of one of many things Thomas admired about her. “I’ll do the same.” Thomas reached for the buzz and felt a hand grip at his large one. Her grip was so weak, he could have easily slid out of it. He wanted to hold her hand but feared any movement might break something, her fingers trembled. “Thomas Jefferson don’t you dare.” She hissed, Martha was clearly offended by what Thomas was still unsure. “Don’t turn into those men who want to walk down this road with me. This is what I want and I won’t let you touch a damn curl on your head. Ya hear me, Mr. Jefferson, not a damn one.” She huffed taking the hair clipper away from him. “Any rate if anyone should keep their hair is you, you have gorgeous air and it hides those big ears of yours.” “Ha-Ha you’re lucky you have a cute head.” Thomas crossed his arms and looked her over again, and again, memorizing the changes in her, finding what still remained of the Martha he knew. Time was not on their side. “I was thinking…about that trip to Paris…” “Yes..” she looked at him while she clipped down her hair to the scalp. They had so little time… “Let’s go. Tomorrow, first flight out.” “Thomas it’s the middle of your semester…you …we can’t just run away like that. I don’t even know if the doctors will let me, they’ve advised I –“ She squeaked as Thomas pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Her shrunken body slowly curled inward towards his body heat. “Who cares? We’ll go to France, get married with Angelica and Lafayette as our witness, live stream it for family and friends…have the honeymoon Paris.” 

‘If we go down, then we go down together. They’ll say you could do anything, they’ll say I was clever’

She was out on the terrace while Thomas was sprawled on a small, wooden canopy bed. She was in nothing but a bra and his boxers, cigarette hanging out her mouth while she skimmed through her phone. She looked so proud. Thomas couldn’t think of a more beautiful pose, his woman, leaned over the iron railing over the busy Parisian streets. The sun hitting from high above, casting deep shadows down her hollowed out back, the peaks and valleys of her now protruding shoulder blades contrasting the shine of the sun off her delicate bald head was a masterpiece in his eyes. Thomas hoisted himself off the bed and picked up a violin sitting in the corner of the room and began to play a long, whiny note stealing Martha’s attention. “Your parents are livid with you, Jane included. Have you read the comments?” She bit her lip with a mischief. “They’ve started saying you’ve abandoned them for ‘that girl’. Ha, I’m ‘that’ girl now? Not your soon to be wife.” She mused, knowing in under 24 hours, she would be Mrs. Martha Wayles Jefferson. The first and only. Thomas didn’t answer. He had long avoided the calls the moment he withdrew from his classes and took off to France. It was only a few days but he already felt like they were running for a lifetime. Tomorrow couldn’t come sooner, midday he’d be married in the most beautiful city to the most amazing woman. He didn’t stop playing until a deep, moist, glottal cough erupted from Martha’s throat. Within seconds he tossed the instrument to the bed and went to Martha plucking her cig out of her hand and tossed it down to the street below. “Enough of that.” He kissed her bare temple, feeling the soft throb of a pulse under his lips. “You need to eat and take your medication…” “No.” Martha rolled her eyes, “the pills are going to make me feel off, I’m not going to feel like shit on our wedding day.” Her excuse was only half truth, because the other half neither of them wanted to face. The medications did nothing but make her feel more ill. They were placebos for hope but Thomas and Martha were know in on the big secret. “I’m not hungry” she breathed, leaning into Thomas, a bit too much so. She slumped against him, her body losing control of her weight for the moment. “Just…tired.” “Then lets relax” he whisked her off her feet into a bridal styled lift. “I’ll carry you just like this when we’re heading down to get married.” “Show off” Martha wrinkled her nose. She laid in bed with Thomas for hours, their hands intertwined for some time. Other times, Martha would ask him to play for her. The music distracted them both from her growing slumber and worsening coughs. Martha began rambling, nonsense that worried Thomas at first. She wanted them to put on their wedding outfits and lay in bed; she said she wanted to practice. She begged to wear the garments because she wanted to ‘feel’ them now.  Once Thomas had dressed her in the thin white dress that hung at a tea length he kissed the back of her head and smiled. “Do you remember how we first met?” Thomas arched an eyebrow, eyeing the back of her skull for some time. “How can I? You were sitting outside the New York Public Library in June, about…two years ago.” “I was sitting just like this” She plopped on the bed, crossing one bony leg over the other. Martha reached into her travel bag and pulled out a book. “With this very book. Like this” She held it up to her nose, the sticker of the library still on the spine of the novel like it was yesterday. “You never returned that book?” He placed a hand over his mouth and choked back hysterical giggles. “Martha what the hell?” “I couldn’t! I told myself I met the man of my dreams this book was lucky! Plus…I love Isben’s work…you recited my favorite lines to me on our first date…” She giggled, “Oh can you still marry me knowing I probably have an outstanding fine with the library…” She muttered softly, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. “Could…you still marry me…knowing I come at such an outstanding price…” Money wasn’t the problem, not for Thomas and not now. “I’d marry you, over and over, and over again in every lifetime…” He whispered kneeling down by her legs. “and tomorrow when I marry you, I plan on reciting those same lines. To the only Mrs. Jefferson I’ll never know.” “Promise.” “I do.” Thomas kissed her knee and rested his face into her thinning thighs. Suddenly Martha fell back onto the bed, arms out with a groan. “Martha?!” He stood and hovered over her only to see her blasted, toothy smile. “Fuck…Martha don’t do that!” “Hehe…” She giggled with her eyes closed. “Read me Peer Gynt…” “Its one in the morning, Martha. You’re in your wedding dress, I’m reciting the lines to you as vows. You can wait until the morning, whats the use of surprising you.” “…I want to hear it now, front to back…” “Are you going to even stay up for all five acts?” Thomas challenged, Martha nodded her head slowly though her eyes were shut. Thomas gave in. He positioned himself on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his soon to be wife snuggled on his chest. He pulled the book up to his face and began to read the play, each part, each line for five acts. Martha listened to his heart, his breathing, and his voice all at once, her fingers drawing designs on his dress shirt for his suit tomorrow. With a soft and tired yawn he breathed the last words by Solveig in unison with Martha who was still, to his shock, awake. “In my faith, in my hope, in my love.” He paused allowing Martha to finish. She read out more lines that was left, not needing to open her eyes to read them from the book she had it all memorized in her head. She whispered in a  strained voice, fighting back violent coughs, “Peer, we shall meet at the last crossroads, and then we shall see if…” she swallowed hard, “I’ll say no more…” Thomas smiled, letting the book fall from his grasp he couldn’t’ fight the sleep. Tomorrow, soon, Martha and he would be married. Lafayette as witness, Angelica marrying them, soon, so soon that rose gold band in his jacket pocket would fit on that finger and never be moved again. In the morning, Thomas refused to think of the end. He refused to move as Martha’s post mortem grip held him so tight. Up to the last breath, god knows when last night while he slept, she clung to Thomas. No doubt putting up a fight, using him as the anchor until the morning. No more coughs, no more pictures by the terrace or talks about their honeymoon plans in Brittney. No more whispers of their favorite lines from romance plays and books, or recounts of their musical and lyrical lines from their dating past. No more plucks from the harp that yearned for Thomas’s violin accompaniment. Thomas sat there; the warmth still retained in her and banished the thoughts of end with each tear. He thought of how it all started, the parts in between he could have changed. And thought, ‘what now?’ as he sat there with one last page to his tragic love life. One page away with no closure in sight. 

‘We were staying in Paris—‘