#the formatting on this keeps going all wonky and i have no idea why...

[wren-kitchens]

I believe you (i'm not wrong)

2042 words

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

this will make no sense if you don't know this au, and it is so self indulgent, but it's easier to format fics on tumblr than on discord GKFHD

anyway this is an au that me and stiff came up with and then made increasingly more angsty. this is the happiest part of the whole plotline if you can believe it

cw: panic attack, hurt/comfort

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

she could bother joel. hypothetically speaking, gem could go up the mountain and knock on his door and awkwardly explain at three in the morning why she can’t sleep and that she needs his help, but- void, there is nothing she wants to do less right now. she loves joel- really, and it's more than likely that he'd be pretty helpful actually. it's- it's just too much right now. gem would rather build her problems away.

it takes longer than it probably should have done for gem to realise that her hand is bleeding, but she can’t be bothered to do anything about it; it doesn’t hurt much. besides, it's just another scar to add to the list of silly accidents she's had while building—like that time she almost took her finger off because she wasn't paying attention when she was dismantling some iron bars with less care than she should have been.

wiping sweat off her forehead, gem steps back for a second, taking in her work. her very wonky work. void, gem really needs to sleep soon, but there's no way that's happening without at least four nightmares, regardless of how much she tries to keep her mind occupied by something else. it's all she can think about- she's barely even done anything, despite 'building' for at least six hours now. the wood is unevenly cut, the moss is slowly dropping chunks into the sand from the roof, and the whole house looks like it's about to collapse on itself. that's- okay, that's the look she was going for, but it was meant to be structurally sound in actuality.

this was a bad idea- building a town that reminds her so damn much of where she grew up. it wasn't- it's not like gem really thought it through until it was too late to change her theme, and now she's kind of stuck. how in- anyone's name did she not even realise what she was building until after the nightmares started again?

.. don't answer that, actually. she doesn’t want to know.

maybe if gem sits down here, she'll fall asleep before she can start thinking about.. anything she doesn’t want to be thinking about. it feels like her limbs are made of lead, and gem has begun to debate on which sleep deprivation is worse: the exhausted building or the nightmares. maybe she'll flip a coi- what the fuck was that.

a figure- there's something- it's coming-

she hasn't- why the fuck didn’t she sleep- she knows what happens if she doesn’t sleep. can it reach her? can it make it onto the sand- can it outrun her? what if- what if it can walk, and she just never- gem never knew because she only encountered it whilst sailing but- she's endangered the whole server because of her stupid mistake-

stealing a glance behind her, gem's heart drops into the abyss- it's gaining on her. she's dead, she's going to die, she's doomed everyone, there's no escape-

something grabs her arm.

a strangled scream forces itself out of her tattered lungs, and she swings- desperation flooding her mind. she's gone- she's going to die- she's going to die-

"gem! please- it's me! it's me."

she opens her eyes, breaths still tearing their way through her throat, and- when did she get on the floor? her vision swims, body shaking too violently to steady herself and she thinks she must be drowning. there's a figure above her- there's- there's something above her.

her hands are numb and she's shaking and she's on the floor and she's not drowning, but she may as well be because she can’t fucking breathe. she's going to die and she's going to deserve it- she's- it's all- there's nothing left-

someone is holding her hands. she is having a panic attack and someone is holding her hands. she's not dying- she wishes she was dead. why would- who is- where is she? who is talking?

there's- there's her name. she feels like she's falling, but someone is talking and holding her hands and she's not drowning. did she- did she break something? was it her fault? she didn’t mean to.

a hand- a thumb against her face. gem was- she is crying. her vision is clearing but nothing will process and she just- she just wants to go home. she doesn't have a home anymore. she broke her home.

she didn't mean to. she's sorry- she just wanted to fix it. she's sorry. she is breathing, and she's not drowning, and she's not dying. right? is- is she right?

"right." there's a voice, and it sounds like home. she is crying again. "you’re okay."

no that's- she's not- she can’t be okay, ever again- she ruined it. there's nothing- she can’t- there's nothing left. she broke it- she ruined it. she's sorry.

her hands are warm. someone is holding her hands, and she's breathing and she's not drowning. there's a figure in front of her- there's scar in front of her.

"i’m sorry." gem's voice is sore, and comes out quieter than she expected it to. she's not drowning. "I never- i’m so sorry."

scar is crying, and gem is holding his hands. "I know." he says, and he’s quiet too. "I didn’t- void. I don't think i’ve- ever been on the receiving end of that."

it takes gem a moment to understand what he means, and her chest fills with emotion. she tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

"what-" scar's voice breaks, and gem wants to hug him. she doesn’t know if she's allowed. "what did you think I was?"

gem takes a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I never- I never knew what they actually were." she whispers. "they'd- if you didn't sleep, they'd appear."

scar is silent, and gem almost apologises, but her voice seems to have abandoned her. maybe this is all she can ever have- was she asking too much of him just now? void- the whole plan was to avoid pestering scar, and now she's had a panic attack because she mistook him for- that- okay, it doesn’t matter what, but now he’s dealing with her and she doesn't know if he even wants to, or if he just feels obligated-

"can you stand?" scar asks suddenly, and gem takes a second to recalibrate. can- what? can she stand? of course but- why is she standing? gem doesn’t actually ask any of this, of course, but the questions arise nonetheless.

gem lets go of scar's hands and pushes herself upwards on weak legs, but she doesn’t let it show. she wipes her face and takes a breath, bolstering herself for whatever it is she has to do next.

but scar just holds his hand out. "can you come sleep?"

gem is so surprised, she takes half a step backwards before she realises how rude that looks, and steps forward again, hoping she can play it off as rocking. "I don't- what?"

scar looks almost embarrassed, and gem finds herself getting even more confused. "well- if you-" he clears his throat awkwardly. "if- I can’t, um. I can’t be mad if you're.. not sleeping."

is scar being deliberately vague, or is gem's brain just too tired to understand what is going on? she shakes her head, still trying to process what scar could possibly mean. "I don’t- I don’t know what you-"

"I don't want you to stay up so late." scar says, and his voice is soft like gem hasn't heard it in months, and she might cry. again. "I just- I know you can’t sleep unless you have a distraction. I was trying to ask- can I be the distraction?"

gem takes a shaky breath. "oh." it's all she can manage- it's all she can think right now. gem is tearing up again and she wipes her eyes hurriedly. "I- are you sure?"

scar nods, smiling tearfully. "I miss you. I never- I didn’t expect how much." he holds out his hand again. "will- will you come with me?"

there's a moment of hesitation, of is she allowed, before gem slips her hand into scar's and squeezes. "i'd be happy to."

-

the conversation between her and scar on the way to his base was awkward and best, and plain old silence at worst, so gem was a little nervous for what it'd be like when they tried to go to sleep. what if scar changed his mind- or if one of them had another nightmare and suddenly both of them couldn't sleep? what if scar was just- lying, or something, and he was just expecting gem to say she was fine on her own?

gem has never been happier to be so wrong about something in her life.

in all the time she's known scar, gem has never seen scar transfer into bed so fast—and he practically pulled her after him before she'd even got her shoes off. once gem crawled under the duvet, she and scar may as well have just become one body. it's so bizarre, how easily they can pick up where they left off, even after so much time, and when gem rests her head against scar's chest, it feels like home.

and- void, gem missed this so much. the way they fit against each other like they were made for each other, the feeling of scar's hand in her hair, the warmth in her stomach as she burrows under the duvet- it's the closest to perfect that gem thinks can exist. it feels as if she could close her eyes and drift off in an instant, she feels so safe.

scar buries his face in gem's hair. "I love you." he mumbles, and gem almost starts to cry again.

"I love you too." she holds scar tighter, voice wavering embarrassingly. "i’m sorry- i’m so sorry. it- for everything."

"i’m sorry too." scar whispers, sounding close to tears. "I shouldn't have- i’m so sorry gem." he presses a kiss to the top of gem's head.

gem's throat is tight, and she swallows a sob. "it- it's okay. I didn't- you didn’t mean it."

"neither did you." scar's voice is painfully soft, and gem blinks back tears. "it wasn't- I have to-" scar gives a little huff—the one he does when he's tripping over his words. "I- gem, I forgive you."

it hits her a moment later, like something melting in her chest, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over come clawing back up her throat. I forgive you.

gem is sobbing into scar's shoulder, and scar is holding her tight and he’s crying too, and she knows that if she asked why, he'd say that if she's crying then he's gonna cry too, and she's missed him so much. her chest aches with each breath, and she doesn’t care because he forgives her, and she doesn't deserve it, but scar thinks she does, and there's nothing in the world more important than that.

"you’re- you’re so important to me, gem." scar says, voice thick with tears, but gem can hear his smile—which only wants to make her cry more. "I couldn't- there was nothing that would have kept me from you. not even myself."

"I love you." gem is still crying, and she's smiling, and she's hugging scar, and there's nothing that could ruin this moment. "i’m- I could never-" she chokes on her words and dissolves into another sob, holding scar like a lifeline.

"if- if you keep crying, i’m not gonna be able to stop." scar says, hiccuping a weak laugh.

"that's- that's your fault." gem manages through sobs, half laughing. "I blame you."

scar pulls her closer, and gem melts into him, tension she didn't even know she was holding leaving her. "you're so wonderful." he says, and gem almost sobs.

"you’re not- i’m gonna keep crying if you say stuff like that." gem says, and scar is laughing, and she's a mess but she doesn’t care.

scar forgives her.

[mmc-veronica]

A≒A'≠A - A’ English Translation

Trigger warnings: Death and suicidal ideations

UM. so i finished this quicker than i thought i would. THERES A LOT OF STUFF HAPPENING IN THIS TRACK… i did translate/format half of this on my phone so sorry if its a bit wonky 😭 when i first listened to this i remember being kind of like “?????” lol… also i.. have not proofread this so sorry for any mistakes. anyways, translation under the cut!

Hello? Honey? It’s Etan~

Actually today I have a feeling that I can get home early today, so maybe we can see each other soon~...

Eh?! For real? Then let’s just meet up somewhere… by the way, where are you right now?

Oh, oh, then that would be closer to Tokyo Station.

I’ll be there in forty secon… no that might be impossible, but I’ll be finished with work in five minutes so wait for me somewhere, or you can just go ahead and meet me at my place, that might be a bit more convenient!

Alright! If you get there before me, feel free to make yourself comfortable! Then I’ll see you later, mwah!

It’s been a while since I’ve been this tired�� Yo, yo! My Honey’s shoes are already here!

Honey~! Are you alright? Did you bump into anything? I’m home, I’m home, I’m home!

This situation where I come home and my honey’s right in front of me… Isn’t this a bit too good? It’s so priceless that my heart won’t stop racing! Hug~!

Hah… this is nice… coming home from work and being recharged with my Honey!

All my worries and stresses from today are replaced by happiness that I feel like I could redo this entire day and feel fine~

Huh? Of course, I’m fine! I seriously hurried over here after those five minutes, you know!

Could it be… Did my Honey make me something or do something for me?!

Are you serious? That’s seriously the best! By the way, what did you get for me? What are you going to make for me?!

This is so good~ Anything you make is good! Like, seriously, somehow everything tastes like my Honey!

It’s okay! There’s nothing to worry about! This handmade hamburger steak is a given, and once this frozen potato side dish was warmed up it’s Honey-flavored, right? Mmm so good…!

Thank you for the meal~ Thanks to your nice surprise I’m in such a good mood! I’m so satisfied that I’m filled with so much inspiration for ideas for a new song!

Right, right! Well, even once the release relay starts, we NSFW are the exciting last performers, so we’ll start putting in some serious effort soon~

Well, yeah, kind of. When it comes to the performance we haven’t thought of anything yet. The other members are still out and playing around. Even so, I think we still have to produce a happy song that breaks our boundaries, so the people who listen to it will be so happy that they want to start dancing!

That’s right, as the ambassador of this name I want to keep working hard.

Well that was the plan, since my happiness has reached its limit. But you see… Mm… There are some things I need to start cleaning up… before I properly become an adult…

Well before that, Honey over here! Come over here!

No, no! That can wait until later, It’ll become a hassle!

When it comes to cleaning up, I’ll properly do it all later, so…!

I caught you~ so from here on out its the start of my dessert time~

This is…! Hyper delicious sweets! Not even a ten star rating will cut it! Just one bite won’t do, so I’ll just have to take my time with having a taste~

I’m so refreshed! Then Honey, you were alright with… Yo yo?! What is this! Isn’t this a sight! My honey, wearing my shirt and sweatpants! Oh… this is too attractive…

Oh okay, okay, help yourself to any drinks! And why are you watching the news? That’s a bit bland!

I see, I understand the sentiment. Background noise just to keep your nerves at bay is always good. Especially if you’re alone.

Yeah, you’re right. Except I’m not sure what’s been changed specifically. The drinking and smoking age has been the same. Passports��� you can get after ten years, right? Damn! I don’t know if it’s because of this country or not, but if someone goes out on a whim and decides to become an adult then that’s a bit of a problem~ Even with me, there’s a lot of stuff I need to do.

Hey, honey? You call me A, right? Ever since we started dating.

Yeah, true, but… For one, you don’t call me by my real name so it’s fine and I like you calling me A but…

I am A but this- If I said I was a fake A, what would you do?

Did I scare you? I guess we are similar~

I’m actually a twin. The one on the right is me and the one on the left is my older brother. The real A, without the dash.

The one that started the band and went by A, that wasn’t me. That was my brother. But…

He died.

A bit before we turned fifteen, he was crossing the street and a truck came… He… He… I’m fine. I’m fine now. I’m sure you can guess what happened. What I couldn’t say all this time, was this. Whenever I think about what happened, I can’t stop from panicking, so I've made sure to try not to think about it. My parents and doctors have all said to hurry up and forget about it, but not just the incident. They want me to try to forget about him as well. But, I can’t help myself. Especially recently. I have to keep him in my memory, or he’ll be scared right? I keep aging, but he’s alone, in the body of a kid. To think that he’ll be forgotten by everyone…

It’s kind of too late for this, but can you listen to me? About the real A that you don’t know.

I’ll make sure that I’ll remember properly, so if it’s you, it’ll be okay.

Yeah. Of course I know. No matter how stupid I am, I know you’ll wait for me. Up until now you’ve done that already. I won’t push myself. So first I want to talk about some of the easier stuff.

To outsiders, we were both little troublemakers. But, on the inside we were actually good! Basically, we would come up with ideas and run around messing with the adults! Well we were identical, right? So we would switch classrooms and see how long it would take for them to notice! Right?! But if no one notices, it takes the fun out of it, so in the end we would just tell them ourselves, especially him. I would say to him, “We were doing so well, so why did you tell them?!” and we would get into arguments, but, when we came up with our next prank, we would just make up without a word.

We went into middle school, and he suddenly said he wanted to join the light music club. I liked music too, but I never thought of doing it myself, so I was a bit surprised. I guess it was then… the crowds of people we hung out with changed bit by bit, but we still got along well, it was what it was. When he started being the singer for the band he was in with his buddies, it felt like he kept getting sucked in by the music. He was all like, “A musical star being born doesn’t sound that bad!” and I started watching his practice sessions with my friends. When we were third years, they had a farewell stage at the cultural festival, and of course he was super excited, but he got sick out of nowhere! I would say he got too excited and he got sick. Catching pneumonia and going to the hospital, coughing everywhere, he kept saying “I let down my bandmates and underclassmen,” I felt bad for him so I said, “Well, do you want me to stand in for you just this once? We look the same and we sound the same, so if I copy your singing we can just trick them like that!” Just like we did in the past.

Yeah. I sang in his place. I thought I did perfectly… Well yeah, in the end we were figured out. Well, I guess we revealed it, he did, that is. I’m not sure. That’s what I wanted to ask. Then, that day, I met with him on the way back from class, and… From that time, I really can’t remember much. No matter how hard I try, I can’t recall anything. When I came to, I was in the hospital. No, I wasn’t injured, but…

Yeah. That’s why I don’t like hospitals, even now. I blacked out without even realizing, and when I woke up, I was told that he had passed, and I couldn’t even attend his funeral. I was the one that invited him, and if I didn’t do that, then the incident wouldn’t have happened…

No, I’m fine! If I’m able to tell you this much, I can keep going. I want to tell you everything.

It was from there, where I started thinking, “I want to hurry up and die.” That was all I could even think. Even after getting discharged from the hospital, I was a mess, and I felt like even eating was meaningless. Then, I just started messing around here and there, and was surrounded by weird people. Yeah, the weirdest people I’ve met up until now, those are the current band members. That’s kind of the punchline here. Well, I’m not sure why, but they told me they wanted me to sing for them, but once I thought about it, I thought that it wouldn’t be that bad. And I could stand in his place… because the one who really wanted to sing was him, but he can’t anymore, so there’s only one thing that I can really do. But, I didn’t want to steal his spotlight, so I put ‘ at the end of my name. I’m A, but I’m also not. An imposter that is identical to A, A’. Well that’s obvious, isn’t it? We were seriously inseparable, where one of us was, the other was there also, and we would always go to each other for advice. If we were together, I thought we could do anything. No matter how old we get, nothing would change, is what I thought but… but then why… If that’s the case I should’ve died instead… I wonder, I don’t even know what really happened. I don’t even remember. Before the accident, we were just chatting, and according to the police, it turned out the truck had ran a red light, but… Even then, I blamed myself, that I was in the wrong… No way. There’s no way. If he was here right now, he would never blame me. That’s the kind of person he is. If… I was really in the wrong, he would probably just laugh and say, “Seriously, what are you doing? Rather than that…!” Huh? No… it’s nothing. Yeah. No matter how many people say we’re so similar, I can only think that he was more mature than me. We’re twins, but I can only think that he’s my older brother.

Maybe… Well, there’s not much I can do! He’s not here anymore, and I need to make something of myself. To make something of myself… that’s…

I know. Becoming A’… it wasn’t a mistake. I met you out of it too. Right now everyone’s waiting for me. The A with a ‘’s songs. From starting as an imposter…I couldn’t do it without reason.That’s why I said at the start, that it’s okay. I wonder if he’ll forgive me too, if I keep using the name A’ and continue making songs. Me? Yeah… I think he’d say “Go for it, as long as you’re having fun.” Well of course you’d get along with him! If you can get along with me, then you could with him. I guess it was all in my head… If I think about the type of person he is… then I have a feeling it was.

Haah… Yes!! One song finished~! No matter how I think about it, this is good! Now that’s said and done, the second song… I can leap this hurdle easily. I guess regaining motivation does help…

Why isn’t there a towel hanging here?!

Sorry, I guess I can’t reach you yet. I guess you knew that already though. But I hope you’re waiting excitedly for all the stories I’m going to tell you. I’ll have fun for the both of us. Even singing, and this dazzling world of adulthood.

[buffintruder]

I’m making up an end of year fic writing ask thing because why not, all these answers apply to the past year

Most Popular fic

what if the real steel samurai fandom was the friends we made along the way by a long shot in every single measure. I did not expect this to be so popular

Favorite fic

To Turn the World Upside Down, my ace attorney au where Phoenix’s family is ‘blessed’ by a trickster god. Honestly I think it ranks among the best things I’ve written? I’m still in the middle of posting it, but I just think I do a good job with descriptions and character interactions and character growth in this one

Most unexpected fic

This is a tie between two Kamen Rider fics:

Endless Futures Ahead because it’s a Gou/Chase fic and I started writing this (in 2021 actually but whatever) before I’d even seen a full Kamen Rider series. I knew this show was going to suck me in if I ever started watching it (and it did), but I did not think I would write 20k+ words about characters in a show I had only seen a handful of episodes about

Across the River of Stars. I read the Blade novel, sat on it for like a week, particularly the ending where Kenzaki and Hajime agree to meet one night a year (just like the cowherd and weaver of myth, i thought!), and then out of nowhere I wrote 2k words at work about them meeting once a year in modern times. I started it about exactly a month ago and posted it today, so I think this is also the fic I’ve finished the quickest this year (that or my other Blade fic, idk how long that one took to write)

Fics for next year:

The next one I will post is a toss up between:

-the as of yet unnamed sequel to my steel samurai fic. this is 50% Klavier during aa4 having the Worst Year of His Life and 50% Klavier being heart eyes over Apollo, as seen through his unofficial social media (right now about 5k long, i’ve gotten past aa4-4 and the immediate aftermath, i just need to figure out where i want this to end, go over it a couple times, and then do all the formatting)

-The Future Where All Sorrows End (title subject to change) my Kamen Rider Blade soul nemesis au where Kenzaki and Hajime know that they are fated to be each other’s undoing from the moment they meet (right now somewhere in the 50-60k range. i need to finish the last scene, decide if i want to add a post-canon scene where Kenzaki hangs out with Kotaro and Hirose, and then do a bunch of editing but a lot of that i’ll do after i start posting chapters)

The next fic I plan to start writing:

Honestly probably a Kamen Rider W fic. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this premise, but I’ve had the rough idea in my head for 6ish months now and watching Fuuto PI + rewatching W with my brother is giving me feels. The basic premise is that instead of Gaia memories, it’s ghosts. Akiko shows up at the PI agency one day and is like “guys your business model sucks, we’re making a ghost investigating youtube channel as well as being private investigators”. Philip is the camera man never on screen but often making snarky comments from the background. The fic alternates between Wakana’s pov who is like ‘what is up with these youtubers that keep referencing my radio show’ and Philip who is like ‘i’m weirdly obsessed with this radio host but i don’t think it’s in a romantic way’. And then they start talking like in canon but no one dies and everything ends happily :) including for Kirihiko

Tagging @arofili @gallus-rising @queerfandommiscellany @moth-time and anyone else who wants to do this, my internet is wonky so i can’t see who follows me and i don’t have a good memory. Also feel free to change the questions if you want, I came up with these just now while sleepy

[pavlovianfuckery]

I don’t use Ao3 and it looks a bit wonky on mobile phones to click/open the Ao3 links from Tumblr. Just weird formatting! Please keep posting on here! The thing about Tumblr is that the more often you post original works, the more people will start to interact. I can’t tell you how many times on here I would find a writer that I loved, and then they would start hardly ever posting actual written work and I would just forget about it eventually. Regular posting of your stories will grow a steady/increasing group of people who love to interact and reblog/like! One story posted once every century (exaggerating here/Sandman reference lol), people will forget to tune in and will start to forget/lose the feeling that your works gave. You are so talented and one of my favorites, and I’m very new to your writing so I am heavily advocating for you to keep it going!!! So many writers on here start with high engagement and then start hardly ever posting their work, and wonder where everyone went/why everyone disappeared. Please stay on tumblr! Also having a masterlist would be insanely beneficial!!!! No one wants to have to scrounge around and look for bits and pieces of written works, bc we don’t know if we’re actually seeing it all and it’s confusing on mobile phones!!

Hopefully I didn’t come across like a bitch lol I am a huge fan of yours!! 💛

And now I'm crying into my can of Monster over here, the thought of people enjoying my silly little fics is pretty alien but you just made my day :)

Maybe I should try to make a masterlist, I never really thought about that since I only started posting my fics on here fairly recently, but it's probably a good idea. Trying to post more often is tough since I only really write one-shots and I have times where I'm in a frenzy and putting out a couple per week, then months of nothing. And reblogging my own stuff always feels a bit dumb, and it gets kind of hard to keep doing that when nobody else seems to be looking at it anyway.

edit: I think I made a masterlist! lmk if links are broken or whatever else I might have done wrong lol

[mayfay]

(Throws this through your window like a rock)

Damn this good

So I personally lean towards dragging things out but it really depends on what scenes you like best, pre AFO life, life under AFO, and his subsequent downfall, or the Fallout. The power vaccume left behind the world needs to fill and the horrors he left behind not fading silently into the dark like he did. Of course you could do Both or have it as a possible sequel but that’s a lot so it really comes down to what you like best. Still gonna ramble about ideas though there is So Much (now with Basic Formatting Skills!)

So first off quick delve into TIFs quirk again cause I Can Not help myself. So we already established TIF probably has wonky physics and can take a hit cause of it right? Well I realized while writing that she technically? Has No vital organs. It’s all a projection of her quirk factor. If she gets stabbed she could simply reform over it, steal your knife, and happily skip away. Of course that’s probably *not* how it’s gonna go cause stabber? Gonna expect to do some damage. And that’s Belief! Belief that’s getting sent *straight* to her. Still, she doesn’t let much influence in through her connection so it’s not a Big deal, just annoying. Combined with the other methods discussed earlier means she’s hella durable though

Next up is stuff she can make! Cause that wallet you mentioned? Disappeared. Vanished once it left her sphere of influence. Why though? If it was just something she made it there’s no reason it wouldn’t last! Well, that’s if she used matter manipulation and Remade it. If she was just “playing pretend”? Then it would be just another projection of her quirk. Technically part of her body as much as her hands are but since she and others Believe it’s separate, it is. As she gets better control though? She could likely extend her sphere of influence or even section off parts to stay with her “creations” like her main body does. Only problem with that of course being that it would likely eat away at her sphere of influence, weakening her. But in exchange? I imagine it’s Much easier to “play pretend” than it is to reshape matter into a stable form of what you want and have it *work*. Of course just reshaping matter is probably less resource intensive for long term creations. The Best method though? The one that’s permanent and barely costs Anything power wise? Stealing. Walk by someone or a shelf and Whoop, sense what’s there with your sphere and use it to pull in what you want. From there? Slip it into a pocket or hide it inside Yourself where No One is looking and you’re home free (unless there’s an alarm but shhh). She could probably make a killing as a pickpocket until she finds someone shady enough they’re willing to forge a paper trail for cheap. Also she probably needs to list a basic body modification quirk for that stuff to avoid difficult questions and constant updates on height and whatnot.

Now! Pre-death AFO ideas!

So TIF? Isolated. Probably kept away from the public where she could reveal information. But AFO? Not dealing with That 24/7. Best solution? Keep the quirk factor but give her connections some slack so she can be stuck at the doctors place where he can get stuff done. Don’t want to leave her alone All the time though, AFO recognized that look in the doctors eyes would rather she not “disappear”. While there and annoying the doctor to hell and back? She can see Others. Other people, quirks, experiments, Nomu, Everything. And for a quirk that’s been isolated? One that’s Built to be social, has the concept of friendship Baked into the Core Of Their Being? She’s gonna packbond So Quickly. As for who’s there it depends on the AU and timeline. You can have plants, animals, quirks, ocs and mha characters, Anything. After all gotta have characters to have a story and the doctor needs parts for experiments and Nomu.

Now to revisit an earlier thing on the Power of Friendship cause AFO? Doesn’t have it. Like you said, devoid of friendship and all the things that come with it. Incompatible. Why though? AFO is Still human, despite how it may seem, so he still Has emotions (namely curiosity and ambition but still). Well, maybe not! Cause AFO has Outright Stated he wants to be a God (technically a Demon Lord but God’s more dramatic and in character). First problem with achieving godhood? Gotta make tough decisions. Kill, steal, don’t let them feel, etc. So? What if he had a way past all that, move past all those feelings that come up when he has to make sacrafices. A way to move beyond that guilt bubbling up every time he sees his brothers face. A quirk. One that allows him to modify his own emotions. Have to leave the curiosity and ambition there to stay functional but guilt? Pain? FRIENDSHIP? That was All dimmed/turned off Centuries ago. At this point he probably does even remember how to turn them Back On even if he wanted to. Just a fun way to explain the incompatibility and make this even more “AFO designing his own downfall” than it already was.

Now onto post-AFO!

AFO? Dead. Body fell apart as his quirks eroded and glitched out and was left brain dead or a pile of dust. But TIF? For there to be more story TIF has to Live. And for that her quirk factor needs to keep existing. No quirk factor=no processing=no energy/projection=death. A basic necessity of her quirk no matter who believes what. So who has it? Who has this self destructive quirk factor and how?

First and simplest option would be Hiro. If AFO had such an interest in TIF it makes sense to keep the original host for study. And when he started to have problems? Or when the doctor located those internal mutations and told AFO? TIF got shunted off onto Hiro so she would stay around and wouldn’t risk dieing due to complications in a different host.

Second option would be a Nomu. I mean that’s where all the clones are going and it’s the final goal of this whole operation. Makes sense to test that for any complications. Especially if they can use it to better control her. With AFO gone though? It’s Hers now. No one giving orders anymore! She’s a free quirk! And with a new body she has free rein over too! Unless of course the Nomu is high functioning. In which case it has its Own lingering personality to contend with. And the doctor? Well, he was never one for leaving an experiment without a failsafe, kinda a necessity in his line of work.

Third option is a character from MHA. Most likely Nedzu since the rat already has intelligence modifications and AFO might have him close when his body starts shutting down and he’s panicking for either a final study or cause he’s sadistic and Nedzu was a friend from TIFs time in the lab. Either way AFO has a character from MHA in the room and forces TIF onto them in a panic. And now it’s Their problem

Fourth idea is more an extension of the previous but instead of a canon character it’s either a crossover character or, my personal favorite, another oc. Could be a civilian, hostage, experiment, doesn’t matter. Same case as before, AFO pushed TIF onto someone and now they gotta get their stuff together and get out and find a way to keep from dieing of seizures. (May or may not just be an excuse for me to pick apart another quirk but shhhh)

Final and most morbid option is AFO himself. Cause AFO? Braindead. Dude’s not coming back without divine intervention or a long session with the doctor. But TIFs quirk factor? The thing she cares about? That’s stored in the Cells. Just gotta keep enough of them alive and she’s perfectly fine. Weather through a Petri dish or piloting AFOs corpse TIF is able to keep those cells alive by keeping them in her sphere of influence and Forcing them to be. Gives extra reason for others to be chasing her down but removes to need to find a way to keep the new host from going brain dead (though she might be able to use a similar method to do that. Get the host in her sphere of influence and “pretend” all that excess belief and emotion is getting fumed out and it Will be. Also a chance for immortality now that I think of it if she can will them younger, but that’s less important. Could explain why Nedzu’s still kicking around in canon when the average mouse would’ve died years ago though)

Now onto clones!

So a core part of a post-AFO story seems like it’d be running from the clones, so what could some of their intentions be?

Well it could be simple revenge. AFO made them because of Her after all. And if they gotta suffer She should as well.

My personal favorite’s that they’re inefficient when it comes to energy. Haven’t worked out how to micromanage it and aren’t producing as much thanks to cloning degradation. So the solution? Slurp up TIFs energy! She has Way to much, she can share just a Tiny bit right? They Totally won’t leave her as a husk with barely anything to function! Trust us~ and maybe some really Do just need to skim off the top. Take that excess hurting her host and they’ll be fine and everyone’s happy! But others? Oooh boy some of those guys are Starving. And they know Just where to find something.

A good one for the creep factor is they’re looking for a Mother. She’s their base, their genetic donor. If a quirk could have a mother She would be it. They just want someone to guide them. Teach them. Mentor them. Someone who Understands cause there is No One else who could like her. And if she doesn’t want to? She’s spent her whole life running away, holding herself first? Well, they can work on that. The Doctor taught them All About how to Break someone

Final idea is that AFO may be dead but his vision? All the little horrors he left behind? They’re still here. Still programmed to do what they have to without any input from the big man himself. And TIF? TIF has gone rogue. They just have to bring her back and make sure she Stays

And of course there’s more than enough clones to have any mix of these or more, but onto other ideas!

So the clones? Gotta eat. They need energy from belief and emotions and braindead Nomu aren’t gonna cut it without some very specific quirks that probably aren’t cutting it. After all, these are just the early iterations, the doctor didn’t expect to need something self sufficient for years (and maybe even then if they need to come back for upkeep that guarantees some loyalty and a failsafe). So how to get this energy? Well it depends on what kind they need and how they get it. Most probably feed on emotion and can get that by scaring others. A few likely got secondary methods of energy production thanks to quirks in their Nomu host (weather that be through food, passive production, or something else). But some? Some have to Feed. And they need a Lot. Draining people dry of their belief and emotions, leaving them permanently damaged. Possibly even directly draining off their quirk power. It might not be Great for their system, but their whole line of quirks aren’t exactly paragons of health. And the worst of them? The smartest? The newest iteration that had a Useful defect allowing it to drain energy through their connection? They leave husks in their wake. Drained people and Nomu alike, left with a festering connection that continues to supply the new clones rampage.

Now how would they track down TIF though? Some probably have secondary quirks to help but I imagine the clones spread out to avoid stepping on each others toes and to better avoid detection after the first couple rogue Nomu got killed (either by failsafes, hero’s, villains, or each other). Well, they all have the basic connection part of their quirk they need to survive, and TIF Definitely has Feelings about their existence. So they just gotta follow the yellow brick road! Follow the line and race the others to the prize (or block the others depending on motivation)! TIF can run but she certainly can’t hide

Also worth bringing up the Doctor! The grand bastard himself! The one man potentially more evil than AFO! No way in hell is he letting TIF out of his grasp. If he wasn’t left a husk, mauled by a Nomu, or killed by a contingency measure by AFO to prevent betrayal he’s gonna be mustering All his resources to get her back into the lab. Cause his life’s work? His magnum opus? The shining star of his career? The high end Nomu. And TIF is the key to it all.

Now, anywhere in the timeline the death of AFO leaves a power vacuum. The closer it is to canon the less that is but it will Always be an issue. Cause without AFO around? Everyone’s gonna want a piece of the cake. If it’s early in the timeline it’ll mainly be Yakuza and the remnants of freedom fighters, but if it’s later it’ll be the Paranormal Liberation Army, Overhaul, League, and any number of other homemade groups I’d love to go into. And the hero’s and commission are gonna be Scrambling. This kinda chaos hasn’t been seen since the first generations, and if they don’t get their act together some random group might start to fill AFOs shoes or another country might take the chance to “stabilize” them and get some hooks into their country. And what’s this? AFO left a gift? It’s Chaos?!

Cause the clones? Not the only thing AFO has been working on. He had his hands in every aspect of the underworld and a good portion of everything else. And with his death, the doctors disappearance or single minded focus on TIF, and the likely breakout happening in the lab with rogue clones. Everyone is gonna make a break for it. Rogue Nomu, escaped experiments, failsafes meant to act as MADs when AFO was fighting for his place as king, it’s a mess. And the hero’s are gonna be playing cleanup. Rounding up all the little beasties and handing them off to the commission or killing them if they prove too difficult. And when they get word of the clones? Strange monsters that suck people dry and disappear into the shadows? Possibly even get some info that one of them was the death of AFO? They’re gonna jump Right On That. Nedzu hasn’t had this much fun in years! Aizawa really wishes he had saved up some more PTO

My WIP fairy hates me. But like... in that homoerotic Nemesis sorta way, I swear.

Cease an desist, woman! (I scream into the void, knowing damn well she, being my own brain, SHAN'T.)

Cause NOW? Now I CAN NOT stop Pondering, with a Capitol P, the life of a Sentient Quirk. The trials and tribulations. The indignities and sufferings. Countless micro-aggression and out right dismissal of sentience. The reduction to the EXTENSION of another.

You are not a person.

You are JUST a Quirk.

An organ that "thinks" itself separate, in the way knees spasm when struck just so. The child you are attached to just needs to get better CONTROL of you. Your words and actions are actually THEIRS. You are simultaneously an unruly animal and strange adult, not allowed near other peoples children.

Why are you trying to follow this four year old into their school? Why are you SITTING out side a pre-school? Are you stalking that child?

You are a grown adult. Connected to a random Japanese child.

The child is expected to "control" you.

Punished if they do not.

No one is listen to EITHER of you, as you try to explain the situation. The child is upset, scared, and does not have the emotional maturity to understand why you are not to blame. All they can understand is that you appeared and everything became stressful and "bad". They started getting punished. Have to share their room now.

Do you even have rights? If you get hurt, get MAIMED, what will happen to you? Can you hold a job? Own land? Open a bank account? Fuck it! Can you have a RELATIONSHIP?

If you went out RIGHT NOW and punched a purse thief, would the FOUR YEAR OLD be arrested?

If the kid grows up, becomes a hero, and you do secretarial work... does his license cover you? If YOU wanted to become a Hero, would he be your hero partner? Could he technically sit in a corner and let you work?

If no one could TELL, over an internet connection, then surely that should prove SOMETHING? Right?

And! The question NO ONE ever seems to ask!

Could..... could you LEAVE? Do people have the right to force you back? If you don't WANT to be some kid's Quirk? You're sentient. If, unlike Dark Shadow, you are not PHYSICALLY connected, but tethered by distance?

Could. You. Leave?

Just "Allright, I'm out. The way you're all treating me is unacceptable. See ya never." And walk out the door? You'd be able to gain distance as the kid grew older. As long as you hid? You be homeless, without papers, but free.

A sentient Quirk means free will. Means you don't HAVE to do shit. It's like being born with a twin, not a slave. And that Twin does NOT have to put up with your bullshit. YOU are the one asking THEM to work with you, after all.

This? Of course, ALSO just ABSOLUTELY BEGS the question? What if that four year old grew up to be a BASTARD? Just... NO self reflection or empathy. Everything is everyone else's fault, always. And they want a NEW Quirk. One that won't question them.

So they sell theirs, buy a new one. Probably die off screen trying to throw it around.

What happens to you THEN? Pain, obviously. Like... massive, massive amounts of pain. You ARE a Quirk. You're being ripped out by your metaphorical roots. By the NERVE ENDINGS. But? Do you... for lack of a better word, "reset"?

Are you back infront of "your" person? Or do you stay, safely, where you are? Both would be fascinating, honestly. Because I imagine All for One? Does NOT get sentient quirks often. If at all.

They'd sooner kill themselves.

After all, if your choice is "kill yourself and your beloved twin" or "be ripped apart and watch them die horribly, then be used to go against everything you both stood for"? You weep and promise to make it fast.

Then you make it fast.

It's... really annoying, I'd imagine, for All for One. It's not necessarily that he WANTS a sentient Quirk. But they are INTERESTING. And he likes interesting.

He also likes owning things that can't leave. Ever.

So of course he'll poke and prod at the Quirk. It will inevitably be a nightmare, either way. Because EVERY Sentient Quirk has some degree of communication aspect to it. Just because the original holder never figured it out, doesn't mean HE can't.

And while your range may now be much, MUCH bigger? Because the fucker is strong as hell? How useful is that... if he can talk to you when ever HE feels like it? Day or night. 24/7.

And that's assuming you don't reset. God help you if you reset. Because THEN your STANDING infront of, most likely, pre-face-smash All for One. Who's looking at you like he just won a Mildly Interesting Prize and you would PREFER HE NOT. But what are you gonna do?

Walk out again?

You think THAT'S an option here?!

I mean... you can and do TRY. But, obviously not. So like? Fuck ™.

THEN the question becomes? Would YOU go to Tarturaus. Are you a hostage? Or an accomplice? You have the same level of power and authority as a cat, deliberately knocking pages of tables and cups to the floor, but... like? Oooooh~ oh yeah! THATS gonna slow him down! His empire crumbles beneath the sheer MIGHT of your petty inconveniences!

*trips the doctor again*

Fffffuck you.

[carewhittcker-blog]

WEST HOLLOW MARCH TASK | OPTION 002.

"I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you for agreeing to this interview today, Caroline. I know your schedule has been busy lately."

Adjusting in her seat Caroline's amber gaze flicked forward for a moment, coinciding with the slip of a smile. "Yeah--- working two jobs on top of class in between can get pretty hectic, but I was happy to meet up with you. I'll admit it's a little strange to find myself on the opposite end of an interview, though."

"That's right. Other than working weekends at the campgrounds you're interning at West Hollow times, correct?"

Having finally gotten herself settled she carefully crossed both legs at the ankles, mindful of her skirt, and nodded. "I do. My internship at the paper started a few months ago. It's only a few days a week, so in some ways I'm still learning the ropes, but I'm really enjoying my time there so far. Landing the position felt like some of my dreams were finally coming true."

"Has working in journalism been a lifelong dream of yours then?"

"Yes and no," she admitted, the hint of another smile curving at the edges of her mouth. "Ever since I was really little I've been fascinated by stories, but I can't say I dreamed of doing anything with them myself. I just appreciated the escape I found through reading--- through immersing myself in someone else's life for a little bit, you know?' Small hands began to fidget in her lap at the minor confession. On a normal day she wasn't likely to admit things were anything but happy growing up. "Anyways, it wasn't until I was much older that I started considering journalism as a career. I think I developed this sort of... impatience when it came to waiting for the story to find me. I wanted to find it myself. I've always been a curious person, but it was more than that. I developed this need to get to the bottom of things."

"Speaking of getting to the bottom of things... I've always had a suspicion that you're involved with a certain anonymous blog that makes a habit of calling people out for their indiscretions around town. Am I right? Are you the one behind Pen Fatale?"

Although the warmth never left Caroline's face her features seemed to go tense with apprehension. "Good try," she breathed with a short, quiet laugh, "but I'm pretty sure anonymous things are kept that way for a reason. I'm flattered that you think I'm clever enough to pull it off, though.

"Like I mentioned the first time we discussed this interview anything you say today is confidential. Nothing leaves this room." Allowing that to sink in I gave her a moment and then asked for the second time, "Were you the one behind the blog, Caroline?"

Her eyes narrowed on me with an appraising stare and the silence that grew seemed to indicate she wasn't going to answer. Eventually, however, Caroline released a pent up sigh and gave the barest of nods. "Yeah--- I am. Or at least I was. If you pulled it up today you'd see that a post hasn't been made in over a year. It didn't feel right to take it down, but it also didn't feel right to continue."

"Didn't feel right? What do you mean by that? Did you start to feel guilty about how you got your information or...?"

"Guilty? Not at all." A feminine scoff tumbled from between parted lips as she gave a toss of strawberry curls. "Whatever I posted on there was the truth. I didn't lie and I didn't elaborate. If you've read it I'm sure you can agree that those stories deserved to be heard. The people mentioned deserved to face the consequences of all their terrible actions. I don't regret publishing the secrets they shared with me, and I don't regret charming them into trusting me to get those secrets, either." Every word rang out with complete confidence as she sat back into the chair, shoulders held straight and proud. "I'm sure some people would have a lot of nasty names to call me if they knew I seduced a few men and women into confessing to their crimes and abuse of power, but I've never really cared about opinions or hurtful names. When you grow up with a mother who strips for a living you kind of get used to that thing early on." That, however, didn't appear to be the honest truth. There was a hint of vulnerability in her gaze that indicated she cared more than she wanted to let on. "I didn't want recognition for any of it I just wanted justice. That's why everything was anonymous--- or meant to be, at least."

"So are you saying somebody else found out you were behind the account?"

The light dimmed from her eyes until any trace of happiness was leeched from her features. Swallowing hard and looking down to the twisted fingers in her lap Caroline gave nothing more than a nod. "Yeah, I think so. Right now it's only a suspicion but--- I've gone over what happened a thousand times and it's one of the only things that makes sense."

"Can you be more specific? What happened to make you think your identity had been discovered?"

Jaw clenched out of either nerves, anger, or a mixture of both Caroline finally lifted her amber gaze. "Surely you've heard." Countless seconds ticked by as she gave that same unflinching stare. Clearly she didn't want to talk about it, but it seemed important to continue.

"Are you talking about your attack? I did look into the dates and it seems to have lined up with when the blog went inactive..."

After a tense pause that stretched between us she finally relented with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm talking about the night I was attacked at home. In the middle of writing a new post, no less." Humorless laughter peppered the air before she continued. "Sometimes I still can't fully remember how it all went down, but I remember enough to know it wasn't some kind of freak accident like the police tried to claim. That thing wasn't natural and it was out for blood. Every time it came after me I could... I could feel that it was personal. Intentional." Exhaling a trembling breath she anxiously twirled an emerald ring around her pinky finger and stared into space. "I'm not a bad person. I'm not the best, but I'm not bad. The only reason why anybody would want to hurt me is because of what I posted on my blog."

"You say anybody as if you're talking about a person, but the police report states you claimed it was a 'winged beast' that attacked you that night..."

Again Caroline nodded, the look in her eyes turning at once wild and distracted as she recalled that particular night in full. "It was. That's what I meant by unnatural. They kept trying to tell me that it was just a scared bat or something that got in through the window, but my window was closed." Even though she admitted that she could remember ever last detail of the encounter she seemed very firm on that fact. "Even if it wasn't, though, there's no way it couldn't been a bat. It was huge and it looked nothing like a bat at all."

"If not a bat then what? What do you think attacked you?"

Caroline sucked in another slow breath before stating, very matter of fact, "It was a demon."

"A demon? You think you were attacked by a demon?"

"I don't think I was attacked by a demon---" she corrected with a pointed stare--- "I know I was attacked by a demon. I didn't realize it at the time, but now I know better. When the police department refused to actually listen to me or take me seriously I began investigating it on my own. At first everything I found seemed to contradict itself, and nothing was from very credible sources but then I---" as if catching herself before she said too much Care ended with a small shake of her head--- "then I finally found someone who believed me. Somebody willing to help connect the dots between what information I had and what I was missing."

"Everything's confidential, remember? You can tell me anything. Who did you find, Caroline? Who helped piece it all together?"

Indecision warred in her eyes as she remained quiet. Her loyalty and protective nature made her reluctant to bring the group up in conversation. "It's more like quite a few people than it is just one," she finally admitted, just as vague and tight lipped as before.

"There's only one group of people I can think of that might fit the circumstances. Are you talking about Mystery, Inc.?"

A certain level of fierceness gripped her features at the name, leading Caroline to inhale a slow breath, but at last she nodded in confirmation. "Yeah." Obviously it wasn't easy for her to out them like that, but she carefully tucked a lustrous wave of hair behind the shell of her ear and continued. "Our paths crossed while I was trying to get to the bottom of things, and when they heard my story they agreed to help. Just getting assistance wasn't enough, though. I wanted to do the helping. In case you haven't noticed that's sort of my thing." Gently chewing against her lower lip she cast her gaze away. "Anyways, they were the ones who took what I described and let me know that it was actually a demon. At first I'd been thinking vampire, but as it turns out the internet is wrong. They can't shapeshift at all."

"So you finally got some of the answers you were looking for. Did it stop there? Did they clarify a few things and then go their separate ways?"

With the cat out of the bag she gave a small shake of her head. "No, I asked to join them as a member of the group and eventually they agreed. I knew I still needed them and it felt like they might need me, too."

"Alright, so not only did you get help but you also joined the ranks. Why was it so difficult for you to admit that?"

Shifting in her seat, one long leg swinging to drape over the other, she tried for a casual shrug. "Way back during the blackout they had all of their evidence and stuff stolen. I wasn't part of the gang then, but I heard what happened. There's a very real chance that by this point I'm the only member that's not publicly known to be involved with Mystery, Inc. Sure, some people have probably realized I've been spending a lot of time with a few of the other members like Jess and Harper and Lupe, but they don't know anything for sure and that gives me --- gives us --- an edge."

"Do you want to keep your involvement a secret because you're worried you won't be as valuable to the team anymore without that edge?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard. Enough that she stuttered out, "I--- what? No. I didn't meant that at all." Whether she did or not before she was certainly thinking about it now. Brows drawn low and tight over her troubled gaze Caroline tamped down on the inside of her cheek. "I just meant that I might be able to go places or find things out that nobody else can. Things that could end up meaning life or death. Who really knows these days? West Hollow isn't exactly ripped from the pages of a fairy tale. It's dark and ugly and dangerous. Everyone in the group..." clearing her throat she smoothed out her features, although obviously still on edge, and continued, "they're like family to me now. I don't want to get hurt but I want to see one of them get hurt even less. We need every advantage we can get--- especially ones where people might be more willing to let things slip in front of me if they don't realize there's a connection."

"In a way it sounds like you're almost back to your old ways, then. Getting closer to people for information they can provide just like you used to do for your blog."

For the first time in awhile true amusement sparked back to life in her eyes. "Well when you say it like that it sounds so naughty." Chuckling out a throaty laugh she tipped her head to the side, fingers lazily toying with the small gold pendant swinging at her chest. "It's not like I'm out there actually hurting anybody. I just have a talent for... encouraging their truths to come out.  I mean, that's all we want. To expose the truth, bring the bad guys down, and survive."

"Right, of course. So I guess my last question is... what do you think a person needs the most to survive in a place like West Hollow?"

Carefully considering that Caroline sat back, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping out a steady beat against her knee. "Red lipstick,” she began with an amused smirk, “because red is confident and you need confidence to overcome the fear, a good set of throwing knives," running the tip of her tongue across her teeth she paused, weighing her final answer, then finished, "and something worth surviving for. You find something that means so much to you that losing it or leaving it behind is unthinkable. You'd do anything, go to any lengths, to make sure that never happened. That's how you stay alive."

... "And have you found that? Have you found that something that makes survival the only option?"

Mouth pushed to the left Caroline appraised me for a few seconds before a tiny smile began to grow along her lips. "Of course I have--- It’s a gorgeous kelly green Hermès Birkin bag. I refuse to die before I’ve made it far enough in life to have one hanging from my arm." The playful, secretive gleam in her eyes proved she wasn’t being all that honest, but if there was something, or someone, who truly fit the bill she didn’t say. “Sorry to cut this short,” she purred as she rose from the chair and began collecting her things, “but I have places to be. You understand, right?” Without waiting for an answer she blew a kiss and breezed out of the room, the scent of vanilla trailing in her wake.

[safyresky]

Frostmas Year Three: Behind the Scenes

Prologue | Y1 | Y2 | Y3 | Y4 | Y5 | Y6 | Y7 | Y8 | Y9 | Y10 | Y11 | Y12

---

oh my god this is the I'M TELLING MOM AND DAD chapter! I did not realize this until I decided "Man, you know what'd be a great distraction from work? A Frostms BTS!" and I am DELIGHTED to dig into this one, and HOPEFULLY resist the urge to throw it back in the doc manager and rewrite it.

Before I yell ONWARDS a quick note: I can't for the life of me figure out how tf to do levelled bulleted lists with the new post editor. I managed to conjure them the other day but when I previewed the post, it was just a bulleted list. So we'll have a bit of a new format for these next Frostms BTS posts! :)

Alrighty. ONWARDS

Jacquie's Intro

"This strange tingling feeling deep within my core…" that's magibean for ROSEHAVEN MAGIC SUSSING HER OUT :)

"are we really starting with PAIN Dani?" yes, shut up and enjoy the angst 😘

"spoilers, you know!" I am still marathoning Doctor Who at this point. We've reached River territory, 100% :)

SO YEAH, Meet the Frosts never happened in Frostmas, so now we're seeing WHY Mother Nature visiting was so important and laid the groundwork for reunions in Crystal Springs!

I guess Y3 is kinda like, the upside-down version of Meet the Frosts, lmao.

Okay. MEAT TIME.

Scene 1 &2: I'M TELLING

We're one scene in and I'm already itching to go back and adjust the third person perspective so you can still clearly hear Jacqueline

initially when I started Frostmas, I was going to switch between first person and third omnipresent

but then i was like, wow, jacqueline's really fun to write as (she's a whole lot of me tbh, just with an amped up chaos meter and a shittier filter than I have)

so when you read through frostmas now, in recent chapters, if she's not there she's still narrating--this chapter desperately needs a touch up to reflect that 😅

"Grinning, Jack got an idea. A terrible, awful idea" yes this is a Grinch reference, 100% :)

"Bernard considered all of Jack's recent "brilliant" ideas: the preordered parts (ended in catastrophic toy malfunctions with several elves sustaining crazy injuries in overnight at the Elfirmiry), ordering things online (secret of Santa was apparently not a thing for Jack), and not to mention the theme music thing. They had all ended in disaster" not me dropping more hints about how this whole shebang goes :o

my GOD i need to tidy this year up. ANYWAY.

Scene 3: the twins answer the door

and CHAOS REIGNS

ha, not yet

but gosh, the TWINS, who do NOT know Jack, answering the door like "the fuck?"

we're off to a great start, huh, Jack? >:)

AND THE SHOE DROPS! STRIKE ON DURING THIS VISIT FOR JACK--FRESH SIBLINGS WHO DON'T KNOW HIM BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS NEVER TOLD THEM

AND FROSTMAS ERASED THEM FINDING OUT ON THEIR OWN :O

originally the anti-concious thing was supposed top be Pyros's cursed influence, LITERALLY PMAN, but I'm not so sure it's Pyros HIMSELF now. I think it's just like, the effect of his curse--doing everything in it's power to keep the sprite extra-frozen

my god i'm diabolical.

maybe the real villain was the writer the entire time :o

ANWYAY

Goddess of the Springs bless Blaise. The man's patience knows no bounds. He sees his estranged son at the door, his eldest daughter ready to throw down, and his two youngest absolutely unaffected and he's like "we should talk this out I think". Love him for it.

FOCUS MODE! THIS IS BTS, NOT A SELF-REVIEW

I do love this tho bc I only recently realized that Blaise's core is HOPE. Man's so full of hope, it's no WONDER that when Jack pops in in this wonky illegal timeline, his first instinct is "okay let's chat and explain things and see if maybe we can make this work" and also "holy fuck where's my wife at this is a LOT" (not pictured)

Blaise's tell, 9/10 times, is his hair. He plays poker extinguished, as a fun fact :)

GOD. I CAN'T READ THIS NOW IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2022 CAUSE ALL I CAN THINK IS THAT SCOTT SANTA IN THE SANTA CLAUSES LOOKS SCARIER! GOD! FUCKING! DAMN! SHIT! FUCK!

ANYWAY, enter Winter!

I was always like, hmm, maybe she wouldn't have fainted, and I've lost count of how many times I've been like "oh no. fainting isn't what would happen. can people faint bc of shock? (googles fainting) (reads up on shocks) OKAY I SUPPOSE IT WORKS.

it was a combo of humour but also a devastating blow, or it was SUPPOSED to be, bc you'd be like "wholly shit. she FAINTED? good lord, upside down meet the frosts inDEED"

Scene 4: SNITCHES GET STITCHES

Wow holy SHIT this is so short?

this chapter, that is

nothing else big was planned for this year, though, admittedly. Jack tries to reunite with the family, fails!

at least, I don't THINK anything else was planned

but Everything up to the first half of Y6 was lost in 2016 when my computer took a steep dive about. 3ish feet off of a counter top and onto the stone floor bc I tripped on the cord while grabbing the phone

🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

ANYWAY yeah, short chapter! but now's the fun part.

If the twins was the first strike, then Blaise being a bit cold perhaps would be the second strike--leaving Winter, who is now across from Jack at the head of the table

(something something symbolism for head of house and power and such)

leaving Winter as strike three >:)

Blaise trying to reign in Jacqueline for this entire discussion is giving him greys as we read, tbh

Jacqueline: I'll spare you the long winded details, reader

Jacqueline, two years later: Here are all the long winded details, get fucked I am processing Trauma

Dani, IRL looking at the staunch difference in word count between the first half and the second half: what hell have I wrought

Jack: I've been reflecting and such!

Blaise:

Writing Winter's no was so cathartic.

She is a very scary lady and we don't really see it bc she's also a Mom, and very warm and about being together and such

But she is VERY scary. Her season, her EVERYTHING can be TERRIFYING.

And to have that be turned on Jack, especially after the DoD and how she played the mediator then?

CATHARTIC I TELL YOU

AND THIS NEXT BIT

I almost flubbed up, let me tell you guys. I almost froze Jacqueline right here on the spot and then went wait, wait hold up. This is too early, let me double check my notes

do I remember what they said? no!

but the jist (gist??) of it was that this is where she gets the idea, but doesn't do it

now, older and wiser than 2015 Dani, I can tell you with certainty that this is most definitely where it starts happening. I mean, how could it not? She's tired, she's frustrated, she's been in this shitty timeline for tHREE YEARS and nobody else seems to be like 'well this seems wrong and bad'. Her brother is back but not at all like she had ever HOPED he'd be, and he's being an ASS and she's really, REALLY angry and what sprite wouldn't, when face with all of that, freeze their lil hearts?

Jacqueline, apparently, and this is b/c, SEMI SPOILER ALERT FOR Y11, Winter staves it off

YOU READ IT HERE BOYS!

Winter coming up and supporting Jacqueline, even that simple little act of saying "i love you" and hugging her, staves off (but doesn't stop) her eminent freeze.

Anyway. If your friends and loved ones are having a rough time, a little love goes a long way is all we here at SafyreSky industries have to say

Even if it is through the allegorical concept of sprites freezing (hardening) their hearts :3

Anyway, got ahead of myself bc of this flub lmao, which is obvious when you actually read the last bit KNOWING I beefed it haha

Jacqueline being like "This was only strike one" is Dani being like "SHIT I FUCKED UP AND NEED TO RESET, AH!"

But it's safe enough to say from this point on, Jacqueline's starting to freeze :o

oh and also

"Jacqueline Frost never cries" is BULLSHIT. She cries, alright. She just pretends she doesn't so she can keep up her "cool" appearance/reputation :)

but she does cry!

you heard it here folks, crying is cool 😎

Anyway. This was a FUN ONE to distract me from work! And quick! I'm going to have to tidy up Y3 at some point, it's slightly off. but it still holds up alright :)

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And so preparations for the final event begin! Let’s see if these being one on one matches helps me get through them a bit faster when I’m not having to transcribe quite so much action all at once.

[No. 32 - Smile, Prince of Nonsense Land!]

Another character profile to start out with! (I swear I’m gonna have to make a post compiling these once we’ve gotten all of them for class 1a… maybe run a comparison with the end of chapter profiles? Eh shrug.)

I swear, my instincts say that something that that tail should not be as flexible as it is because of its circumference. I know, I know, quirks, freaking magic, don’t think about it, but still. It’s a very straightforward quirk with a surprising amount of utility, and he makes full use of it. Good for him! Now, onto the chapter proper.

Kirishima is pretty hyped for a tournament, thinking about how they’ll be up in ‘that ring he sees on TV every year.’ Mina asks him if it was a tournament last year as well, but Sero’s the one to answer - the format’s always different, but most years involve some kind of head to head competition. (Apparently the year before theirs involved foam sword fighting, and now I’m incredibly disappointed we didn’t get to see that for this sports festival finale… would have been absolutely hilarious.)

Midnight holds up a box of lots, saying that match-ups will be decided by drawing lots. Once that’s done, they’ll move on to the festivities and then the tournament itself. It’s up to each of the sixteen finalists whether or not they participate in the fun, since she figures some of them would rather take a breather and save their strength. 

She starts to call for the first place team to draw lots, but Ojiro raises his hand, calling for her attention. He then states that he’d like to drop out, much to the shock of the others. Someone (I think Kirishima?) asks him why, since this is his chance of being noticed by the pros. Ojiro stats that he has no memories of the cavalry battle or anything that happened in it up until the tail end. And it’s probably his quirk that did that. 

Ohh, ominous. And Izuku’s really concerned for Ojiro here. Ojiro states that he knows this is a great opportunity, and he knows it seems stupid to throw it away, but this final turnament… everyone else made it with their own strength. But he’s standing here and he doesn’t even know how or why. He just can’t take it. 

Hagakure says that he’s thinking about it too hard, and that he can just show what he’s made of in the tournament. Mina agrees, saying that by that logic, she shouldn’t really be here either. Ojiro starts crying, hiding his face in his hand as he shakes, explaining that he’s talking about his pride here. He doesn’t think it’s right. (He also has no idea why the girls are dressed like that. Really, the entire cheerleader gimmick seems a bit… awkward, here.)

Izuku has no idea what to say. But class B’s Nirengeki does - kind of. He admits that he can’t remember anything either, so he wants to withdraw as well. This is a contest of skill, so letting someone who didn’t do anything advance… doesn’t that defeat the whole point of the sports festival? Isn’t it against the rules?

Kirishima starts to tear up, calling the two manly. Up in the booth, Present Mic announces the strange turn of events, while Aizawa wonders what Midnight, as the coordinator, will decide. Midnight’s ruling?

She likes it. The two are allowed to withdraw. Aoyama puts a hand on Ojiro’s shoulder and promises to win it for him. 

Midnight tells the kids that replacing the two will be members of team Kendo, who took fifth. Kendo replies that if it’s gonna be like that, then shouldn’t it be team Tetsu instead? Her team was immobilized pretty much the whole time, while team Tetsu were giving it their all to keep what they had until the very end. She then hastens to assure that they aren’t colluding or anything, it just feels right.

Tetsutetsu is in tears by the gesture. After a brief transition, it’s decided that Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki will join the finalists, bringing the number back up to sixteen. And with that, the match-ups can be drawn!

Izuku notes that if he wins his first match, his second’s gonna be against Shouto. Which I feel is very rude of him to just entirely discount the possibility of Sero winning the match. I mean, it’s an honest assessment, but STILL. Rude. Anyways, before his match with Shouto, he still has to face off against Shinsou, who has to be-

And speak of the devil, there’s the guy in question. He wants to know if he’s Midoriya Izuku, which startles Izuku. Izuku recognizes him from the declaration of war two weeks back. He goes to respond, only to be cut off by Ojiro’s tail over his mouth. Shinsou huffs and turns t head away, while Ojiro warns Izuku not to answer him. 

We get a few other reactions from some of the other students: Shouto contemplates how his match with Izuku will be sooner than expected, and that he wants Izuku to bring his best before he takes him down. Katsuki wonders out loud who Uraraka is, which startles an eep out of her, possibly for using her actual name. Mei approaches Tenya, chucking as she starts to ask him something. And Present Mic announces that they’re setting aside the tournament for the time being, and getting on with the thrill-a-minute festivities. 

There’s a few snapshots of what everyone is up to over the course of the side events: some of the non-finalists racing massive balls (probably rubber?) around the inside perimeter of the stadium, Ojiro talking to a stressed out Izuku, Tokoyami napping in a tree, Tenya drinking five (5) cans of orange juice, Katsuki doing… something, Shouto crouched down resting somewhere outside the stadium, and finally some students searching for items on the cards they were given. Oh, right, and the girls are doing cheerleader stuff, with Hagakure being the most enthusiastic, and Jirou and Momo as the least. 

Honestly, with that jump, Hagakure is either buff as heck, or Ochako is lending her a hand. 

While all this is happening, Izuku is narrating how some people preferred to psych themselves up, while others tried to relax. Everyone was dealing with it differently. And before they knew it, the time had come.

We come back into the narrative as Cementoss is just finishing up crafting the battle platform from scratch, which is honestly incredibly impressive. I guess his manipulation of cement includes being able to dry it out super fast. And really, with how it looks, he’s just showing off. Especially with those torches, like, those can’t have been made from cement. Were they just put there and the cement set around them? Did he use the cement to manipulate them into place? I have questions, sir.

As I said, showing off just a touch. 

Present Mic thanks Cementoss before asking the crowds if they’re ready. He talks about how the students have been through hell to get here, but now it’s time for the one-on-one tournament! They’ll only have themselves to rely on. Even if someone isn’t a hero, that saying holds true! You know it! Spirit, technique, strength, wisdom, and knowledge! Use them all and show us your best!

...They’ll only have themselves to rely on, even applied to non-heroes? Uh, wow. Talk about the underlying 𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓮𝓼 showing up here. I honestly can’t help but think that Izuku’s issues with heading off alone in the current manga arc has less to do with emulating All Might, and more absorbing all these small asides and comments from all the staff of UA. Which is fucking 𝕪𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤.

Anyways, while Mic’s doing his thing, Izuku is trying to calm himself before his match, only for Toshinori to come up to talk to him. He notes how it took a while, but Izuku’s finally getting the hang of using One For All, and gives Izuku a wonky thumbs up. Izuku is surprised to see his mentor there, but also corrects him - he doesn’t really have a hang of it, he’s still uneasy. He brings up his microwave visualization thing, and how he’s been trying to recall when he launched it at the villain, but it still feels dangerous. As if he could fall apart if he loses focus for a second, and, well, it’s like Toshinori saw. Given the level his body is at, even when Izuku controls it, it only gives a small boost in power. 

Toshinoir thinks on it for a bit, before reminding Izuku about that talk about giving it between zero and a hundred. As Izuku is now, heis body’s capable of about five percent. Izuku considers that, thinking that if it’s like that, then he’s just gotten lucky with everything. Toshinori gives him a few thwacks on the head and neck, telling Izuku that that’s because he’s always been trying his hardest, calling him a prince of nonsense. He also chides Izuku, saying he’ll never be a hero looking so mopey.

While Izuku recovers from the assault, Toshinori tells him to listen, before stating that especially when Izuku is feeling worried or scared, that’s when he needs to smile. Izuku’s come this far, so show some bravado, even if it’s fake. To punctuate this, Toshinori swells up into All Might, giving him another thumbs up. And I guess it kind of works as motivation, since Izuku seems less stressed?

Anywho, we finally get into the first match! Present Mic announces the two, with Izuku getting a comment about his making a weird face despite his good performance, and Shinsou getting a comment about not having done anything to stand out yet. The rules are simple - win by knocking out your opponent, immobilizing them, or getting them to say ‘I give up!’ Bring the pain! Recovery Girl’s on standby. And fight dirty if you must! ‘Ethics’ have no meaning here!

...this explains why Shinsou immediately went for such a low blow. 

Anywho, Cementoss makes himself a seat to watch from, so as to be prepared to stop the match at any time. Present Mic clarifies that going for the kill is a big no-no and will disqualify you, because a true hero’s fists fly only when in pursuit of villains. 

Shinsou starts talking, contemplating the ‘I give up’ option before asking Izuku if he gets it? That this battle’s going to test his strength of will. If you have any kind of vision for your future, there’s no sense in worrying about how you get there. Like that monkey, babbling about his stupid pride. 

Wow is Izuku pissed. Present Mic announces the start of the match as Shinsou rhetorically asks what kind of dumbass throws away a chance like this. Izuku rushes forward furiously demanding to know what Shinsou just said - only to stop dead. Shinsou calls it his win, while in the stands, Ojiro is stressing out, tail flailing as he snaps at how he’d warned Izuku about this. Toshinori is waiting at the entrance to the stadium, confused. 

Present Mic asks what’s wrong, the battle’s just started, show some spirit! Mere seconds into the match, Izuku is frozen in place?

And we end the chapter on that cliffhanger. What an introduction to Shinsou, and we have more to go in the next… one or two chapters, can’t recall. 

Anywho, see y’all next time for spooky quirk shenanigans! Can’t believe our first ghost sighting is about to happen. Fricken love ghosts.

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas.

word count: 3.6k

pairing: razor/gn!reader; razor/traveler

genre: fluff

summary: « i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

razor stares expectantly at you as you watch him make no further attempt to move. you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the banality of everything setting into your mind. or maybe you’re getting sleepy. you wonder: « do you know why, razor? »

a/n: secret santa secret santa secret santa anyway, this is my side of the secret santa gift for @absolutely-rational​—i chose to write a thing for razor, but i barely play the game and i haven’t met him or own him* or anything so i apologise if it’s a little ooc ,,,, merry christmas and happy holidays ^^

p.s. as the man who’s good at saying very little in way too many words, the length of this fic just exploded and it’s alot longer than what i wanted it to be dskljfsldkja

heads-up

i write dialogues in what i will call the french/european system? anyway, i see that it's not the dialogue formatting that most english readers are accustomed to so i modified it slightly to be easier to understand basically dialogues will be within guillemets (« »), and words that are within the quotation marks but are italicised are actions and/or dialogue verbs.

hope that clears things out a bit and i hope you give me and my fic a chance :)

« weih… nachten…? »

he tilts his head slightly, not unlike a dog. what’s that? razor repeats your words slowly, tentatively, enunciating the foreign word with care. he wonders if the words sound strained coming from him. words are hard.

« that’s right! it’s a large festival in teyvat, and even more so in the city! you elaborated, sensing his confusion. here in mondstadt it’s called weihnachten and it’s supposed to be about, you know, spending time with friends and family, passing around gifts and presents to those you care about. »

you soon felt at ease as you continued: this world had its differences, but it had its similarities. it had its own equivalent of christmas. something that you know about. sure, maybe the origin is different, maybe it had different customs and traditions, but it was a comforting familiarity in the midst of everything that’s so staggeringly foreign. then again, you suppose that’s what drew you closer to the silver-haired boy: neither of you truly fit in, nor fully understood the strange world you happen to be in.

though at the very least, razor had his lupical. as bittersweet as it was, it warmed your heart to know that at least he had family to be around with during christmas, and well, around… in general.

« weihnachten. he says, this time with more conviction. how to celebrate? – well for starters, (where do you even begin?) we’d decorate our homes with all sorts of festive trinkets and we’d fill the streets with all sorts of sparkly things. garlands, lights, flowers, ribbons; decorations that’ll spruce up the place and make the city light up. it always made people cheer up and get in the holiday mood, especially at night when the fairy lights twinkle about! »

razor’s mouth moved in a silent gasp. then does that mean that those bright stars he liked so much were not stars, but rather lights? is that why they seemed to be brighter near the end of the year? the people from the city decorated, he considered. is that why the stars’ reflection, bouncing around in the lake, were an array of dazzling colours, from glittering red and shimmering green to captivating shade’s who’s name he doesn’t know?

« is why… sometimes stars explode? he wondered. – yup! though we don’t usually light up fireworks until new year’s. you wondered for a moment. do you like fireworks, razor? the silver-haired boy frowned, lost in thought, before shaking his head. – loud. scary. me and my lupical, we go hide. we don’t like… firework. »

you hummed in understanding. dogs have never been fond of fireworks and firecrackers either.

« fire is bad. why light firework? isn’t it big hassle? »

it reminded razor of the red, burny girl. fun person, friend! but the toys she uses are loud and dangerous, they create explosions and fire, just like fireworks.

« hmm, i guess… you pursed your lips in thought. good question. i guess that at this point we all just do it out of tradition. new year’s brings a lot of excitement, and people let it out by lighting them up. it’s also really pretty. »

the more he thought about it, and the more he learned about it, the less he understood the celebration. why? it’s loud and distracting. bright colours hurt eyes, doesn’t it? it’s time spent with your family, but razor is with his lupical everyday. do humans… not spend time with their lupical regularly? why is this specific day so special from the rest of the year? he doesn’t get all the funny dates and celebrations humans have to keep track of. seems like a big hassle. sounds complicated.

« no such thing as weihnachten in wolvendom, huh? »

he shook his head.

you tucked your finger under your chin, pondering, in slight puzzlement. back in your world, you would’ve been able to take pictures—maybe that would’ve helped him visualise it better—but you couldn’t here in teyvat. a sigh. anyway, it’s not like you had your camera on your person anymore, so you do your best to describe your happiest sensations, experiences, memories of christmas: the smell of hot cocoa on a cool winter morning, the crackle of firewood from the hearth, and the feeling of soft wool on your skin, hugging you from the biting cold. the merry and jovial carols sung by the star singers, the gleeful chattering between friends out on the street, and the boisterous cheering and partying coming from the many bars and restaurants in mondstadt. the comforting arias and prayers echoing from within the cathedral, the mouth-watering aroma and fragrance of treats from the christmas market, and the grand christmas tree placed at the heart of the city decorated with even more opulent and lavish garlands and baubles, the vivid glimmering lights reflected from your eyes.

describe the different little things that made christmas different and more special from the rest of the year.

somehow this time that you took to pay the wolf boy a visit was consumed by you rambling about the merry holiday, drivel that he listened to attentively and with a pure and honest kind of curiosity (even if he doesn’t always understand you) that you found endearing and made your heart flutter, until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars adorning the city shined out, rivalling those peppering the night sky. until the howls from his family called him away from you, and until you motivated yourself to begin your trek back to mondstadt after sitting in the woods alone.

being with him was always a welcome distraction, you thought.

december 25th.

paimon was dozing off after stuffing her face full of the dishes from the christmas banquet (good for her!), the cup of tea you had between your hands had gotten cold, and your breath was fogging the frosted window in front of your desk. you mindlessly traced a smiley face on condensation. you can see the ever changing colourful lights blinking through the glass pane. you take another gulp of the unpleasant liquid, unsatisfying as you feel it slowly go down your throat. the calming and comforting scent it brought (it was chamomile) having long dissipated.

sighing, you pulled your fingers off the cold china, deciding it wasn’t worth finishing, and quietly slipped out of your room (which was graciously granted to you by the knights of favonius), taking care to slot the chair back under the desk and gently close the door behind you. you wondered if taking a walk would help you feel better. you tightened your shawl around you and buried your freezing hands into your pockets. head down, you quickened your pace to… wherever your legs were taking you.

another sigh.

you smiled almost bitterly to how much of a grinch you were being. you liked christmas, or rather, you liked what it stood for, and you liked the idea of spending the winter months with your closed ones.

a few hours ago, the knights of favonius had organised a small christmas party at angel’s share, and though they had thoroughly reassured you that you belonged and were included in this celebration, you couldn’t help but keep to yourself and stick to a corner of the bar. you couldn’t bring yourself to join in on the fun, or talk to others. you didn’t feel like it was your place to force yourself into their conversation, into their lives. you were grateful that they thought about you, and you didn’t want to question their kindness, but… you nursed your glass of virgin cocktail, peeling your eyes away from your wonky reflection on the liquid.

you weren’t exactly at home: you looked at jean and barbara, happily exchanging jokes and teases. a relaxed sort of conversation, banter which flowed, almost as if it were rehearsed, in a way that was only possible between sisters. that night, the deaconess wasn’t smiling as if she was holding back tears. the carefree girl was speaking with jean (rather than the acting grand master) who allowed herself some respite from the demanding position.

you look at the uncharacteristic smile on the bartender’s (who happened to be none other than diluc that evening) face, and you doubted that kaeya, sharp-eyed as ever, missed it either. it was subtle. but it was there. you don’t miss the way the cavalry captain held back on his sarcastic remarks or the way diluc wasn’t being “deliberately uncivil” (as kaeya would put it) either; the way the red-head indulges kaeya’s seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol while the latter makes an effort to maintain a friendly, if curt, chatter.

a particularly loud giggle drew your gaze back at the two sisters: lisa seemed to have joined them. you sipped your beverage, half-hearted. the three seemed to have started a rather animate discussion. you hear them laugh again. it makes you frown, but you shake your head, pushing those angry thoughts out of your mind. just because you’re miserable (even though you shouldn’t be—your friends are with you) doesn’t mean they have to feel down with you.

setting your glass down on the table, you wondered if you would've felt better if you were with someone closer to your age, but amber had gone home early: she dropped by and hung out for a bit before going home to spend time with her family. your glass is empty now. you feel… envious. you wished you could spend this christmas season with your family. it’s not fair. it’s not fair.

your favonian family, and yet you were out of place.

you excused yourself early from the gathering, the other members politely bidding you farewell and a merry christmas (« frohe weichnachten! »), and quickly went up the path leading to the order’s headquarters, wanting to hide away in your room as soon as possible.

now, you stop before the lavish tree: it’s as grand and brilliant as it’s always been. but now it seems much too bright. the colours an eyesore. singing sounds more like knives being dug into your eardrums.

your head hurts.

a humourless chuckle escaped you. you used to take turns with your sibling on who got to slot in the christmas topper.

this year was their turn.

back then, your sibling made a point to hang gingerbread treats on the tree, and you made a point to eat them behind their back come christmas morning.

normally, you’d be sharing gifts with your sibling during this time of the year.

your entire life they’ve always been there by your side, and you by theirs. for better or for worse, you kept each other company. you’ve always spent christmas with them.

this was your first christmas without.

the rest of your thoughts are jumbled, incoherent. something your long term memory didn’t deem worthy of keeping, so they simply fizzled away. everything was a blur as your feet carried you outside the city, away from… it doesn't matter. just away. carried you away. happiest time of the year. but you’re here alone, with no one you know and to call home in a world you don’t recognise. far away from the land you once knew.

panting, you stopped in your tracks when you realised you’ve started sprinting. what were you doing, you chastised yourself. can’t you act a little more mature? finally lifting your gaze, you took in your surroundings; instinctively your feet must’ve taken you to wolvendom. you kicked a stray pebble under your boot. not like that afterthought was going to help much. it’s not like anyone was waiting for you here either, razor was probably with his lupical. hunting or snoozing away.

with little care, you let out an exasperated sigh as you let yourself plop ungracefully to the ground, listless.

you sit there in silence, nothing to accompany you except for the cacophonous ringing of crickets in the forest. you drew your knees closer to you. what were you doing here? it’s cold. you hear thistle crack, and so you defensively draw your sword as you rose to your feet, only to be met with a familiar mop of fluffy silver hair.

« it’s night. dangerous here. »

was his curt greeting. you lowered your sword, shoulders relaxing.

you opened your mouth, ready to apologise, make up some sort of excuse, let him know you’re leaving, when something else caught your eye: « you kept the scarf? »

he blinked. once, twice: « you gave it to me. he said, very matter-of-factly. you are my lupical. it is… treasure… razor paused, correcting himself. treasured, possession. »

having realised that the intruder was not dangerous, the wolf boy came closer and gently pressed his forehead against yours and nuzzled your face. a small laugh escaped you as you returned the affectionate gesture, something you’ve learned was his customary greeting. it was cold out, but his touch was enough to bring feeling back to your cold self and make you warm and fuzzy inside.

still resting your head on his, you asked, timidly: « is it ok if i stay here for a bit? » it came out as a whisper, unsure if you’re any better staying here rather than back in the city. but as he nodded in agreement, your shoulders loosened as you let go of tension you weren’t aware you were building up again. you slumped into him, burying your face into him and held him in a loose hug. razor, as for him, let himself be snuggled to your heart’s content, happy to receive such fondness.

« today is special day, isn’t it? » his blood-red eyes peered inquisitively back at you, arms wrapping around you as he tries to remain as close to you as physically possible.

« mhm. » you mumbled non-commitally into his shoulder, opting to pull yourself closer to him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

« not go celebrate in city? » razor asked, perplexed. he thought that you said this was a big celebration to be had around other people? despite his bemusement, he rested his chin on the top of your head. it makes him all warm and soft inside, the thought of you choosing to spend this special day with him of all people. it makes him happy. he hopes you’re happy too. the wold boy gives you a once-over and his brows creased in slight worry: you’re really quiet today. why?

« uh-uh. » you grunted, shaking your head against his shoulder, your hair brushing against his clothes. the chunky scarf you gave him, the one you were convinced he was going to throw out due to its garish colours, tickled your exposed skin. he kept it. you smiled, touched. he kept it. it still smelled faintly of fabric softener, but marked by the smell of pine trees and something sweet, something you associated with brewing thunderstorms. you’ve always found rain and thunder to be comforting.

being with razor comforts you.

he wasn’t much of a talker. you both knew this. silence is ok though. he’s happy to be with you. but razor wonders why you’re so quiet today. concern flashes through his mind and he turns your gaze upwards, making you face him. you can’t possibly imagine what pathetic expression you were pulling and you quickly try to cover your despondence—but it was a fruitless venture.

« you smell sad. he watched you, a worried look on his face. »

you scrambled for some explanation, reassuring him that it’s nothing. that you’re not being a downer. that you’re happy. but he’s decided: « wait here. »

knowing that there was no restraining him once he’s made up his mind, especially when it’s something to do with the ones he considered close to him, you reluctantly let razor peel you off of him. as you watch him scurry away, you find yourself dearly missing his warmth, the comfort and safety of his arms. was staying here a good idea? you wrapped your arms around yourself. maybe you should leave. you’re ruining the mood. you’re disturbing wolvendom’s peace. before you could finish that line of thought, the wolf boy returned, this time carrying a handful of… something with him.

they threatened to tumble out of his grasp, but ultimately stayed put as he returned to his original position and held them out into your general direction, showcasing whatever he had procured. in his hands were multiple plants which bore small scarlet berries and oval, evergreen leaves. a plant you immediately recognised.

« i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

razor stares expectantly at you as you watch him make no further attempt to move. you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the banality of everything setting into your mind. or maybe you’re getting sleepy. you wonder: « do you know why, razor? »

he blinked, clueless, before looking at the mistletoes in his hand with confusion, coming to the realisation that no, he didn’t actually know why it’s so important. it’s not edible. maybe because it’s pretty? the city has many red lights and white lights. some mistletoes are red and others are white?

he continues to stare at the berry, as if it would cave in and reveal its secrets to him if he sustained his efforts. taking his prolonged silence as his answer (though you had expected for him to not actually know—knowing lisa, she would’ve just offhandedly mentioned them. and when razor would’ve asked her about what they meant, she’d just smile without answering him), you filled him in, your voice filled with mirth: « people usually kiss underneath mistletoes. »

he turned his gaze back to you before voicing the conclusion he had come to: « this mean, i have to kiss you? »

you chuckled. « only if you want to. »

he looks at the plant, giving it a long hard look, then back at you.

it wasn’t much, it wasn’t spectacular. hell, it was more of a ghost of a kiss than anything. but you still smiled as his lips brushed on yours. a peck, which lasted too long yet not long enough. awkward, but endearing. your textbook first kiss, including the warm fluttery feeling of butterflies that so often preached about, if only a little more clumsy.

it’s cute.

he’s so genuine, earnest, in his endeavours. it makes your heart soar. he’s sweet. you don’t deserve this kindness but he gives them away without a second thought.

you don’t deserve to be happy during christmas, especially not when your sibling was still out there, alone and potentially afraid. maybe, no, it definitely is selfish for you to enjoy this day. pretend like everything is alright just for this one moment. that you’re not some traveler stuck in a strange and unknown world, that you’re not desperately trying to find your sibling and a way out. act carefree, and get to be you. but goddammit does he make you so so happy that your heart clenches and that you can’t help but smile from ear to ear. you deserve to be miserable today; you feel like shit, really. but you’re also really happy, and glad, and relieved, and maybe a little tired.

it’s all too much, and you feel so much at once that you just don’t know how to handle this anymore. overwhelmed. you smiled and laughed giddily as the waterworks started (despite your best efforts), and you’re a mess, and definitely a bit sleepy, but you’re stupidly happy today. stupidly happy because of him.

this alarmed the boy, watching you laugh between hiccups, sobbing despite wearing a large smile. for humans, tears are sad. smiles are happy. were you ok? he’s confused. did he do something wrong?

« why crying? » he fretted, slightly panicked. he jumped to fuss over you, wipe away your tears, gently cradling your face with a gentleness that you would’ve never thought he was capable of when you first met.

you laughed as you wiped your face. « these are happy tears. » you try to explain.

he’s your home. your lupical. someone you’re at rest with, and safe with. you love him.

your words get caught in your throat, unable to express everything you want to tell him. so instead, you engulf him in a hug. something he was caught off guard from, stiffening, but quickly relaxed and embraced you back. still a little unsure, he comforts and reassures you the only way he knows how: patting your head. when he’s down head pats makes him feel better. he hopes you’ll feel better.

« thank you. » you said softly, shakily, sniffling. thank you for being here. thank you for being you.

you’re not as alone as you thought, you never really were. together, in your own small corner of the world. your home: razor.

as you cuddled together, passing the time by naming and pointing at the celestial canvas above you, you realised: maybe this year, as unfortunate as it had been, didn’t have to end on a bad note. at some point, razor had shared his ridiculously large scarf with you, wrapping it around the both of you. and slowly, your words slowed, your breaths evened out. you pressed more of your weight against him as you felt your eyes droop. you’re safe. you’re with razor. you’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up he’ll be there. as drowsiness takes you over, you think to yourself ‘yeah, i’m happy.’

you’re happy here. in this one time, one place, with razor, you’re happy.

and you hope that wherever they are, your sibling is happy too. and that they’ll forgive you for being selfish, for being happy despite everything.

you hoped that your mirror image had someone to spend christmas with.

somewhere—someone they felt at rest with.

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

[sanstropfremir]

would love to hear ur thoughts re. these street woman fighter's performances and who you would personally vote as the "better dance crew" in how they interpreted each other choreos and the song.

this was for their first elimination round (ep4) and it was interesting to hear from the judges + why they gave the points they did. (i'm not entirely sure if you're watching the show's episodes. they are roughly 2 hours long. so if you would like more context, pls let me know! i wrote brief comments underneath each one as well as the winners [spoilers ahead!]. assuming you are not: for this mission, each crew is paired with another crew and they have to choreograph one of the soloist songs. songs were "split" into two parts: part one [would be one song] and part two [another song]; one crew would choreograph one part and follow the other's crew choreograph for the other part.)

1. boa - eat you up (want choreo) + better (ygx choreo). dance crews: ygx vs want

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCfK_qWAhM0&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: ygx. boa gave 151 pts to ygx and 49 pts to want (the biggest gap in points between crews), sharing that although want choreographed eat you up, ygx was more cohesive (pointing to how want wore hats and it was messy). additionally, ygx had better stage presence and was able to capture the camera more. also, because ygx is the only crew to have a b-girl and use it in their routine, the judges applauded want for doing the best they can.

2. cl - doctor pepper (wayb) + hello bitches (prowdmon). dance crews: prowdmon vs wayb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEpZ9SrvaE&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: prowdmon. judges shared that doctor pepper's routine is a trademark of wayb and that they should have been the standout. however, they felt like prowdmon did it better.

3. hyuna - crazy (4minute) (coca n butter) + i'm not cool (hook) + lip and hip (hook). dance crews: hook vs coca n butter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1ikpPKEA30&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: hook. the two dance crews are VERY different in terms of style. coca n butter is described to be more hip-hop while hook is definitely more reflective of the current/newer trends. (when hook was first introduced in the show, they were known as the crew who was famous only for tiktok dances.) the judges shared that hook was more fun and interesting, given their stylistic choice of wearing the pink wigs. whereas it seemed for coca n butter, they felt like something was lacking (they showed something but it didn't feel they did.)

4. jessi - what type of xx (lachica) + nununa (holybang) + gucci (holybang). dance crews: holybang vs lachica

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZzI11oyqc&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: lachica. (this was the only battle where both crews came in v close pts. whereas for the other crews, there were huge point-gaps.) judges had a hard time choosing, sharing that for lachica they were more detail-oriented while holybang had better teamwork.

-

imo, i agree with the judges' choices. though i would have to say i think wayb did their routine (doctor pepper) better than prowdmon. they stood out to me then, but when it came to the second part (hello bitches), prowdmon was better. i loved lachica's performance - it was v clean + reminded me of something a kpop group would do (which like, the crew largely works with kpop acts like chungha, boa's better, etc. so it makes sense).

-

this was LONG. thank u if u do read it and post! i miss the kingdom "era" when u would post weekly reviews. the two are v different but this new mnet competition show is the only one i'm invested in. i'm not sure if it's big internationally? i know it is v popular in korea right now. while i've only seen i-fans talk about the show as it relates to chaeyeon (want) because she's an idol. - swf (streetwomanfighter) anon :]

omg this is so long and well organized, forget me writing reviews anon you should do it!! i'm not currently watching the full episodes but i've been catching the few clips that pop up in my youtube recommended occasionally, so i definitely don't have all the context but i'll take a crack at it!

ok so my assumption/from what i can tell, they have a bit of leeway to alter the competing group's choreo as needed to better suit numbers and formations. i also went and found the individual versions of these because why did they make them so small on the split screen, don't they know i'm old and wear glasses. also: MNET FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP MOVING THE FUCKING CAMERA. WE DO NOT NEED SCROLLING VERTICAL BOOM SHOTS OF THIS. just keep the same lens at eye level it's really not that hard. this is like, one of the worst possible ways to shoot dance it is SO annoying. ok i'm done bitching about that let's go.

1. boa - ygx vs want i agree with the big point gap on this one, and i think want made a couple of choices that were not cohesive enough, and obviously they also got set up to fail by ygx. actually i think both groups made choices that were not particularly good, but ygx had more of the skills to back up what they were doing than want did. breaking is very difficult and requires a lot of upper body strength and a higher centre of gravity, which are two physical traits that are less common in women. personally i wouldn't have tried to break to better because although boa songs do have more of a beat than other idol music, it's still not at all the right type of music for breaking. it's gotta be fast, breakers rely on speed, because it's all about momentum; they're literally throwing themselves around the stage. here's the final from battle pro 2019 for example. the music is basically beats only; heavily lyric based music, like idol music, is bad for battling in general because there isn't a lot of consistency. i have more to say about this but i'm getting off track. basically by choosing to handicap the other team (because they don't have a bgirl at all) they shot their own bgirl in the foot because the song is too slow to properly show off her skills. i applaud want for making bold choices, like the hatwork and attempting the breaking, but ultimately when combined with their styling the performance looks disjointed. also they have some formation cohesion issues that make it look a bit like they'e struggling to keep up, even with their own choreo.

2. cl - prowdmon vs wayb i agree with the judges, i think prowdmon bodied the wayb choreo. i actually thought that was their choreo at first. they have the best presence that i've seen of all the groups and the performative "hard bitch" attitude fit in with their genre setting. wayb had several mistakes and synchronization issues that in my opinion made them look sloppy in comparision to prowdmon, who were sharper and had two more people to put into formations. 3. hyuna - hook vs coca n butter ok personally i don't like either of these choreos, but i'm agreeing with the judges here, i think hook's was the mildly more engaging. i can tell that they're very young and do mostly short form tiktok content because i see a lot of eye catching moves, but i don't see a lot of strong connective tissue between those moves. they have good ideas but they also really struggle with putting people into formation and balancing it out well. it doesn't help that they're a seven member crew going up against a four member one, so they have three extra people to figure out what to do with. there's a lot of empty space where there are members waiting in position for a group formation. it also doesn't help at all that they (mnet) appear to just be rawdogging the songs together without any kind of mixing, which is a huge detriment to groups that have to choreograph for two in their section. i'm not cool and lip and hip have two totally different feels and kudos to hook for at least trying to get them to at least visually be cohesive when mnet is go girl giving us nothing sonically. coca n butter has much more of an old school hip hop style, so putting these two up against each other was (probably a random lot draw) an interesting choice. personally i would have been more interested to see hook against want with the boa tracks and ygx against coca n butter with the hyuna tracks. however, i think the reason why coca n butter's stage felt like it was lacking is because they tried to emulate hyuna, without having the stage presence or the weirdness of hyuna. it feels like they're trying too hard and there isn't really any personal character in the piece, versus with hook, who embodied hyuna's weirdness a little more authentically and took a completely different direction. 4. jessi - lachica vs holybang lachica took this one easily, although their formations were a bit wonky for nununana, they covered it fairly well and i think they managed the best transition between songs (between nununana and gucci). they were sharper with good stage pictures and had a good gimmick with the double fringe on the gloves and hats. holy bang had some issues fitting their extra person into the what type of x choreo, but they did well with their own choreo. however, like with coca n butter and hook, because lachica took a new visual spin, this felt too derivative of jessi, so it wasn't that interesting for me to watch. i do think they are one of the groups on the stronger end of skills and presence. --- as far as visually what performances i liked the best, since would this even be a writeup by me if i didn't talk about design, here's a quick breakdown:

prowdmon - got some rudimentary setpieces, got a theme, got some fun variations on a uniform look; excellent for what i assume was limited budget capacity and also it's a dance crew show.

lachica - great continuity of effect in costuming with the fringe, and using the gloves as a mouth/lip effect was one of the most interesting choices of these routines.

hook - the pink wigs and the black latex on the checkered floor was a nice gimmick that was a bit of a nod to hyuna's weird without being too derivative. i'm not expecting a whole lot because these are dance crews but i think this was a decent amount of styling effort.

want - they made a bold choice with the hats and even though it didn't quite pay off for them i still respect it.

coca n butter/ygx/holybang/wayb - ygx and wayb did basic hip hop type styling and while it's absolutely fine, it's just boring. holybang went for a directly inspired jessi look, and although yes bodysuits, overall it wasn't that interesting either. coca n butter get props for doing a costume change and actually incorporating that into the choreo but it feels too much like it's trying to be hyuna weird with the caution tape strapped over their tits and asses.

---

as a final note/question to you, my lovely invested swf anon, what's the format of the show? are there stages like this every episode to review? if these were from the fourth one only, is there anything worth me reviewing in the first three? i'm not particularly interested in the aggressive competitive nature of the show and editing so i don't particularly want to watch the full two hour episodes, but if you think it's worthwhile for me to review stuff then i will. otherwise if there's a set structure (like with kingdom) i can seek out the stages specifically and review them if i know what i'm looking for.

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

[kaiowut99]

Phew, finally finished re-finalizing my finalized GX stuff so far!

Over the last few weeks well I guess months--initially while I waited for some potential editing help for 65, then [once I canned the last fix I’d planned; sorry to those I may have slightly annoyed with my casual reblogs about it] just to get it all done while in Rome before double-releasing 65 and 66--I’ve been giving my scripts one final look-through to fix any consistency or formatting issues with my newer stuff (things like my starting to use “Fusion Undone” as De-Fusion’s translated name before accidentally going back to “Fusion Cancel” or turning “Miss Asuka” back to “Asuka-san” since I’d meant to use that whenever “Asuka-sama” was used, or the way I’d italicize contractions or capitalize things), and also to sort of go and do things I should’ve done initially (like translating Daitokuji’s nyas into meows, the logic being that it’s what we’d hear in English anyway; hopefully this is one that goes over well?).  Basically just to cross them off my list so I don’t go back to them at all.  The plan is also to work on new finalized MKV softsubs that I’ll release on NAC for those who’d like ‘em, since Zeratul (who’d provided them before) hasn’t in a long while, and once I do them for 1-66, they’ll be a thing going forward.

While I was at it, I applied some other animation/footage fixes to things I hadn’t picked up on in my initial finalizing run-through as I started doing them, or polished a couple that I did.  Some might wonder “why put in the effort for quick shots or at all no one cares,” but as I’ve mentioned before, as someone who loves GX with some [I think good?] skills using Photoshop/video editing and an eye for detail, I figured if I have time to improve it for people (especially those who might notice the same errors I did) where the staff didn’t take the chance to do so on the DVDs (where they usually would), then why not? (I was actually inspired to do it by KaiserNeko doing the same for DBZ during DBZ Abridged.) The fixes I work on are done for both my hardsubs and the DVDRips I release with the scripts over on NAC, and there’s a thread there with the original DVDRips I work off of as well, in case anyone doesn’t like them (most/all of my finalized Season 1 scripts were re-timed for them by someone there, but I’ll take some time out to do it myself too now that I’ve re-finalized them), along with the CR subs which I’ve said should be shown love too.  I’ll list these new fixes out below by each episode, for anyone super curious about the details; some are kind of interesting, lol. (Did my best to format it so it’s readable, too, lol.)

So, yeah--keep an eye out for the links to actually-final 1-64 on my stream masterpost to be updated along with 65 and 66 once I post them (probably tomorrow), I’ll be updating the links in my NAC thread to the hardsubs and scripts I’ve re-finalized along with any DVDRips updated with the fixes below, and as I get work going on 67+ (which I’ve started a bit of) I’ll work on batches of the softsub MKVs for folks.  For people looking forward to my 65 and 66, really appreciate the patience the past couple of months; hoping to work on some double-releases to make up some time.

Extra-Final Fixes!

Episode 4 (Since I didn’t include a list of the previous fixes I’d worked on in the original release post, I’ll include those here in italics; the new ones here were mainly noticed as I worked on 66 given the flashback to Judai and Manjoume’s duel here--the edits were applied there first, then I went back and applied them here. The fixes I’d already done were applied to the flashback in 66 as needed.)

As Judai takes damage from Clayman’s destruction by VW-Tiger Catapult, Judai’s LP start counting down from 3808 and not 4000; I fixed it in Sony Vegas by masking in a LP counter starting from 4000 for a few frames.

As Judai prods Manjoume into choosing a card from his hand for A Hero Appears’s effect, Manjoume’s part of a split-screen has part of his blazer semi-faded for a frame; I corrected it by just duplicating a later frame.

As Judai’s LP take a hit from V-to-Z destroying Burstlady, there are four frames where the upper part of his Disk is missing the bottom part that extends out--but it shows up in the next frame, which also causes Judai’s Disk wrist grip to vanish for the rest of the shot before Shou’s split-screen comes on, as the parts of his arm for it are colored like his jacket sleeve.  To fix the first issue, I used Photoshop to draw on that bottom part in that first frame, then masked it into the shot in Sony Vegas for the other three frames.  The second issue I fixed by recoloring his sleeve to account for the wrist grip, then masking the edit into the shot while masking the little destroyed Solid Vision bits above the edit.

Had a few things going on here.  First, after Manjoume mocks Judai being wide open just after the above, we have one of many recycled shots through the episode where Judai insists that he’s still got fight in him--the initial frame has Judai in the same position as edit #3 ends with his wrist grip missing, but it reappears as he moves to stand firm while the shading on the lefthand side of his Disk’s Cemetery slot is wonky for a couple of frames.  Second, as Judai moves back into his initial position, that shading is normal but the wrist grip again disappears into his sleeve, and this time that bottom bit of his Disk’s upper part is colored as part of Judai’s sleeve, making his arm shorter.  Third, as Judai moves to draw, the wrist grip reappears and that bottom part is now colored properly, but Judai’s arm isn’t extended like it was at the start of the shot. Finally, as Judai draws, the wrist grip is there but that whole part of his wrist is colored like it (no red noting the end of his jacket sleeve).  I fixed the first issue by copying the wrist grip edit from #3 and copying the moving Cemetery slot shading from the second part here.  The second issue was fixed once I again copied the wrist grip edit from #3, along with using the initial frame to mask in the correct Disk/forearm coloring.  Then, I fixed the third issue by copying the rest of the area below the Disk’s bottom bit from the later shot in edit #7 below where it was colored correctly.  I fixed the last issue by recoloring the first wrist grip curve into red for the end of Judai’s jacket sleeve for five frames.

As Manjoume’s V-to-Z aims directly at Judai, as he discards two to activate Evolutionary/Transcendant Wings, the Winged Kuriboh on his Disk is in Attack Mode when it’s in Defense on the field; I blanked its Monster Zone in Photoshop and then added a Winged Kuriboh proxy in AfterEffects correctly in Defense Mode.

As Judai swings his arm around telling Winged Kuriboh LV10 to “send all that energy right back” at Manjoume, the spot on his Disk where Winged Kuriboh LV10 appears for a few frames is colored like the Monster Zone it’s on; I just applied a Winged Kuriboh LV10 proxy above it for those frames.

Again, a few things here as we recycle the Judai shot in edit #4 (but he’s smiling so it’s different~). First, after Manjoume mocks Judai’s idea of him drawing a 1000-ATK-or-higher Monster to finish him, the initial frame of this shot is pulled from just before Judai moves to draw in edit #4 because the wrist grip is missing along with the bottom bit of his Disk being colored like his jacket.  Then, as Judai moves to draw and grabs a card from his deck, as his Disk arm swings upward for a few frames, the wrist grip area is first 90% colored like his sleeve, with half of the first curve of it on his sleeve colored like the grip, before it’s fully colored like his sleeve for the other frames.  Finally, as Judai fully draws and his Disk swings back to the bottom of the shot (recycling Judai’s position post-draw in edit #4), the wrist grip is gone, but also Judai’s undershirt is miscolored, part of the folds on Judai’s jacket sleeve near his elbow are colored like his Disk, and his Disk is miscolored or missing a few details compared to the earlier shot (like the bottom side of the blue LP orb being colored blue as well and not the Disk’s gray as before).  I fixed the first issue by copying the fixed initial frame from edit #4, masking it in Vegas to just use the Disk/wrist grip area.  The second issue was fixed as I recolored the wrist grip area such that the first curve was fully red and the rest was wrist-grip-colored for the three frames of Judai’s Disk arm going upward.  I fixed the third issue by just masking in Judai’s Disk and arm (up to the edge of his wrist) from the earlier correctly-colored shot, while also masking in his correctly-colored undershirt.

As Judai summons Featherman--to Shou and Chronos’s surprise--and has him lunge at Manjoume for the finisher, the black faraway box that is Featherman on his Disk disappears as Shou and Chronos slide in on a split-screen, and it’s still gone as they slide back out.  I fixed this in Vegas by just masking that black box on to stay longer, masking in Shou’s split-screen over it before and after it slides in.

Episode 8 (Original release post; as with episode 4′s, these new errors were mainly noticed as I worked on 66 given the flashback to Judai and Ryou’s duel here--the edits were applied there first, then I went back and applied them here.  The fixes I made before were applied to the flashback in 66, as well.)

After Judai thinks about how well Ryou played his first move, he draws Fusion for his turn, but as he draws it, it’s a dark-orange rectangle in his hand; I added a Fusion proxy over it in AfterEffects for the quick 2-3 frames it’s in.

After Judai’s first hit on him, Ryou draws and Special-Summons another Cyber Dragon, but visually he’s playing a Monster in face-down Defense Mode on his second Monster Zone--we see this Cyber Dragon in Zone 3 a few shots later as he uses Revival of the Dead to bring back his first Cyber Dragon.  The dub fixed this by making his Disk arm move such that Ryou’s hand lands on Zone 3, with the card in his hand a dubified Cyber Dragon, and I opted to work that into the footage here by masking their moving Disk over the original shot in Vegas, redoing the sky background behind it and masking in parts of Ryou and his hand to make it blend well while also adding some detail to the Disk in Photoshop to compensate for the slightly lower quality.  Then, I replaced the dubified card with a Japanese Cyber Dragon proxy in AE.  I worked on this in 66 first (as highlighted here), but I unfortunately couldn’t just copy that edit completely here, since the footage in 66 has a bit more brightness/contrast to it that I couldn’t dial down accurately to make it blend in to the darker footage here; this is definitely the kind of error that would normally be fixed on the Japanese DVDs, so why it wasn’t is a mystery.

As the screen zooms in on Judai after Ryou declares Cyber Twin’s attack, he’s missing Thunder Giant on his Disk’s third Monster Zone; I added a proxy onto it in AE and masked the red bulb on his Disk over it in Vegas.  It’s tiny and a quick shot, but for consistency’s sake and all. (I’d previously only added that missing Thunder Giant as it zooms out while he activates A Hero Appears).

As Judai thinks about how Evolutionary Wings would evolve his Winged Kuriboh and the screen fades and zooms out to Bubbleman on his field, he’s missing Bubbleman on his Disk in his third Monster Zone.  I added it in AE, then keyframed this zoom-out for it accordingly in Vegas.

Right after #4 above, as Judai notes that he can’t Normal-Summon again this turn, we see Mudballman--which he hasn’t summoned yet--in Defense Mode on his Disk.  When I first fixed this, I put Bubbleman in its place, but accidentally in Defense Mode (given that he’s in Attack Mode right now), so I fixed my own correction by blanking the third Monster Zone Mudballman was on and slapping Bubbleman on in Attack Mode in AE, moving it along with Judai’s Disk. (Still not sure why the dub decided Mudballman = VW Catapult or something apparently lol)

Episode 10 (Original release post listing the original two fixes that were done)

After Mei draws out his Sanga thanks to Kyuu’s Dark Designator card, during the panning shot as Mei adds it to his hand (before they tell Judai and Shou they’ll enlighten them about Tag Dueling), the Defense-Mode Burstlady on Judai’s Disk is shown reversed; I just applied a proxy in AfterEffects on top of it so it was correctly shown with the name box facing left.

After summoning Steam Gyroid, as Shou notes that summoning Hyuga left Kyuu without a defending Monster, the above shot is recycled--this time, reversed so it pans from Shou to Judai, but also has Judai react to what Shou’s saying--and so is the error with Burstlady on his Disk.  Again, just applied a proxy in AE to fix it, moving it as Judai moves his Disk.

As Shou looks down in disappointment after his Steam Gyroid’s attack ran into Hyuga’s effect, Judai turns to give him some words of encouragement, but as his Disk moves with him, we see the Defense-Mode Burstlady on his Disk again facing the wrong way.  Just slapped a proxy on in AE and moved it as Burstlady’s Zone came into view.

After Gate Guardian destroys Shou’s Steam Gyroid, as Chronos watches on and notes Shou’s timidity vs Judai’s stubbornness while the two look on at the Meikyuu Brothers, we see the Defense-Mode Burstlady on Judai’s Disk facing the wrong way again.  Fixed it by placing the proxy again in AE, then zooming it out accordingly as the shot zooms out.

After Mei sets a card and Judai prepares to draw for his turn, there’s a yellow rectangle where his Defense-Mode Burstlady should be.  Applied a proxy in AE over it to fix the issue.

Episode 11  (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Kyuu draws once Judai sets a card to end his turn using Spark Gun on Gate Guardian, the spot on his Disk where Defense Wall in Defense Mode would be has an Attack-Mode-shaped hole where you can see the blue of the stands behind him! I fixed it by making a Defense Wall proxy that I slapped on in Defense Mode in AfterEffects, moving it with his Disk.  For the tail end of the shot where the Zone is fully visible, I also filled in the hole with the Zone color in Photoshop and then applied the proxy.

As Shou declares Gate Guardian the target of his Shield Crush, the card back for the one card in his hand is miscolored.  I fixed it by redrawing the usual card back in Photoshop for the frames it’s in, Gaussian Blurring it so it blends in, before he turns and they’re out of the shot.

After Mei ends his turn having attacked Drillroid with Dark Guardian amused at Shou’s standing back up thanks to Judai, as Judai draws for his turn, his face-down card is miscolored. I recolored it in Photoshop for the few frames it’s in, working it into the footage in Vegas.

After Judai draws from Pot of Greed after the above, he goes on to activate Fusion Gate, but Sparkman on his Disk is reversed; I applied a proxy in AE facing upright, then keyframed it to the zoom-out here in Vegas.

As Judai realizes he’ll need to give up Skyscraper so Tempester can survive Dark Guardian’s attack, the Tempester card on his Disk is reversed; I applied a proxy in AE facing upright, then keyframed it to the zoom-out here in Vegas.

As Judai and Shou reel from the above attack once Kyuu ends his turn, Shou has a Normal Monster card where Drillroid would be on his Disk.  I fixed it by slapping on a proxy in AE for the couple of frames it’s visible in before Shou moves his Disk so it’s not onscreen.

I polished my edit to Misawa to keep his sideburns still in episode 12 and added it to the equivalent shot in the preview here.

Episode 12 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As noted in 11′s #7, I polished my original fix to Misawa’s moving sideburns as a buffed-up Hell Soldier took out his Hydroggedon so it blended in more with the smoke and everything going on in the shot; looks better now.

As Manjoume declares Hell Burner’s attack on Misawa, there are two quick frames where it’s a yellow rectangle on his Disk; I applied a Hell Burner proxy in AE accordingly.

Episode 18 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Kagurazaka brings back Berfomet to take the hit from Thunder Giant and he starts his turn, as he activates Reincarnation of the Dead, there’s a quick frame where it shrinks in his hand as the shot zooms out--I fixed this by just duplicating the frame just before where it’s normal.

After Kagurazaka summons the Gazelle he added to his hand above, he then activates Swords of Sealing Light, but there’s a quick frame where it’s just a yellow shape in his hand.  Easy fix by slapping a proxy in AE.

Episode 30 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Shou and Hayato realize they’re no longer being boiled alive, Hayato audibly asks, “Huh? Where are we?”, but his lips only move for the “Huh?” part of that as he lifts his head.  To fix this, I used the couple of flaps as he lifts his head and tweaked/resized them so they would work after his head’s lifted, adjusted to fit his line.

Episode 31 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Chronos sets a card down after Camula brings out another Immortal Werewolf, Antique Gear Soldier on his Disk is shown as a Normal Monster Card; I originally fixed this by slapping on a proxy in AfterEffects while the shot was still, then keyframe-zooming it out in Vegas, but at the time, I didn’t account for Chronos’s swinging arm, so the card was superimposed over his hand for a frame or two as it swung over that Zone.  I’ve masked his hand over my edit now, so that’s fixed.

Episode 38 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Judai summons Wildman in Defense Mode to start the duel and the lights suddenly go out (prompting the “duel of darkness/duel in the seas” mixup...), we see Wildman’s in Attack Mode on the field despite its Defense posture.  I fixed it by applying a proxy there, then masking Wildman’s lower body and the shadow coming from his sheathed sword on top of it.

Episode 46 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Judai reminisces about the past year, he flashes back to his duel with Ryou in episode 8 and his Featherman being vaporized by Cyber Dragon; I added back the fix I did to Judai’s Disk in removing his destroyed Featherman for the few frames it’s onscreen.  Because the flashback fades to white right then too, I also added a quick mostly-transparent layer of white over the blanked zone to replicate the start of the fade to white so it blended in.

As Judai then looks over at Shou and Hayato and he remembers his first encounters with them (a bit reanimated, too), there’s a quick frame where Hayato’s gritted-teeth mouth disappears before it closes into a line for his mouth.  Fixed by just reusing a frame of his mouth in the same position and moved it into place in the panning shot.

Episode 51 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Ryou notes that Judai’s studied up on him by choosing to go second, Judai slides in on a split-screen, but the top of his hair’s miscolored.  Fixed by recoloring it in Photoshop, then working it into the footage in Vegas by moving it into place as he slides in.

As Ryou uses Time Capsule to hide away his Fusion Undone/De-Fusion for later and Judai thinks back to his move in episode 8 leading to his activating Power Bond, I added back my fix to Ryou’s Disk to add on his missing two Cyber Dragons and the one Cyber Dragon in his hand, grayscaling it and adding visual noise to it to blend with the flashback.

Episode 54 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Chronos pins his hopes on Manjoume, as Gokaido draws for his turn, we see an error where his Disk apparently partially vanishes for two movement frames--it seems the animation staff forgot to put the background layer behind his Disk there or something, lol.  I fixed this by actually filling in the rest of his Disk in Photoshop for those two frames, first by filling in the Disk itself and then painting on the rest of the Monster Zone at the edge of the frame, and then just added them to the video in Vegas.

Episode 59 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Shining Flare Wingman returns while Ed explains Misfortune’s effect, of the D-Heroes on his Duel Disk, we see Diamondguy and Diehardguy reversed.  I originally slapped on proxies for them positioned correctly in AfterEffects on the frame after the slow zoom-out stops, then in Vegas I used that frame to re-do the initial zoom-out, but while I usually add a slight blur to the proxies, I noticed that they were a bit too blurry as the zoom-out started.  So I redid it and lightened the blur, while also touching up the bit as Misfortune’s light envelops Ed and his Disk so the light over them blends in more.

Episode 62 (Original release post, though I didn’t do any fixes before)

As Judai uses Dandylion’s effect to summon his two Fluff Tokens, Cocoon Dolphina--visually in Defense Mode on the field--is in Attack Mode on Judai’s Disk in the panning shot to them.  I fixed it by first blanking the Zone in Photoshop, then placing a proxy in the Zone for one frame in AfterEffects before I re-panned that frame for the shot.

[cytarabi]

Hey! I've become a huge fan of your fics on ao3. I wanted to know how do you push out so many beautiful chapters so quickly? What's your writing process like? I'm working on a big JB fic, which I'm trying to finish timely, but high quality. Always like to see how other writers do their thang! Thank you!

Hi! I remember your name!! <3 Thank YOU for the question and praise, that’s so sweet!!

I love seeing how other writers do their thang, too! And I’ve found it can be very, very different for each author.

TLDR I write a lot of my fic ahead of time. I outline the entire fic, chapter by chapter before I start writing. I use several tools to speed the process and/or to make it more artsy fartsy.

I’ve found that I’m a “plotter” and not a “pantser” (two main ways of writing, unless you hate being labeled lol.)

Plotter means that I prefer plotting out most of the story before I write the details. Here’s been my process for my multichapter fics:

1) I come up with an idea and let it brew! I think about key scenes or dialogue I love and I jot them down in my phone on Google notes. Write down your ideas, you’ll probably forget them.

2) During this brewing time, (for As Black As Thunder and my next fic) I take the time to read, read, read. I read works and jot more notes! I have an entire Google doc for Rebecca by Daphne de Maurier where I wrote down her tone usage, figurative language and summary of each chapter. I can’t tell you how much this has helped get me in the write TONE for the work. Tone is SO important. Readers reading a thriller will expect thriller beats! Deep Fried Drinks was a rom com, so the verbs, adjectives etc are very different from creepy Gothic. When I started As Black As Thunder (ABAT), wow, it was hard to nail the tone at first. But by the second half of the fic, I’m fully immersed in it and it’s much easier to create the tone naturally. Without using inspiration, I don’t think it would have turned out as well. For ABAT, I think I took two weeks of no writing, when I’m used to writing every day. It was hard not to write, but wow, was I ready when I started!

3) When I’m ready to outline, I do! I open a google doc for the fic and start throwing everything I can think of in there. My ABAT doc was only like three lines for 6 months... lol! I’ve only just started looking into story structure, so my older fics are all wonky. BUT for ABAT and Deep Fried Drinks, I tried to follow story structure for plots. First act, second act, third act, character arcs, etc. My longest fic, Time Stops, dropped a bunch of readers in the middle and I think it’s because my middle SAGGED majorly. I didn’t try to follow a structure, just sort of plotted it out how I wanted to, and it was probably very repetitive and boring. For ABAT, I plotted a mid point turn to spice things up, chose things to make the character more proactive, etc. I highly recommend Ellen Brock on Youtube for any plotting advice. She’s an editor, and I’ve learned so much!

4) Organize plot into chapters, write key notes for chapters and fill out background info. The first two are self explanatory, but the third is my favorite! One thing that speeds my writing (I have no idea if people do this or not) but I have lists. So many lists! For ABAT, I have lists of common outfits for characters (I usually hate writing about outfits but I’m glad I wrote more for this work). I also write the character arc for each main character. For ABAT, I have the following for Brienne:

Brienne 

Symbols: white crocus flower (purity, youthfulness, sensitive to rain), White begonia, Small birch saplings struggling for light

Goal: serve public, be idealistic, honorable

Lie: (hidden for spoilers)

Truth: (hidden for spoilers)

Flaw: stubborn, idealistic, watched her father get fame and respect for his engineering, wants to do the same thing and do it perfectly, doesn’t understand systemic racism 

Motivation: serve people, be accepted by the public, belonging, abandonment

Stakes: public rejection, Tarth name on the line, mockery, insanity, failure

So when I think about a curve ball for Brienne at any point of the story, this character section helps me stay true to character. I have a section for Brienne, Jaime, Cersei and Missandei. Cersei has a larger section because she’s a villain... ;)

In addition to this section, I also write down their personalities and strengths. You know, like if they went to an interview lol. For example, I have Missandei have the following strengths: 

Missandei

Adaptability: able to adapt

Intellection: introspective and appreciate intellectual discussions

Consistency: all people should be treated the same

Futuristic: fascinated by future

Learner: loves to learn

I ALSO have an emotion worksheet and this is SO USEFUL. They say in writing: show that the character is angry, not tell the reader. WELL, IDK about you but I can’t keep track of all the little quirks characters do and yet, I want them to be consistent. If while writing a scene, I sometimes think, “Hmm what is Jaime doing if he’s in awe right now?” I search for “awe” at the top of my fic, and bam, I have options, more or less. For a lot of emotions, I brainstormed ideas based on character traits, arcs, Gothic tone etc. I fill all of this out before I write the first chapter. 

Here’s an example of some emotions I have for ABAT:

Emotion List (remember to have introspection, unique perspective) 

Awe:

B: wrinkle deepened between brows, parted lips, fixed gaze, stands still

J: arched brow, open mouth, stare, goes closer

C: lowering chin or raising chin, goes closer

M: adaptable, quick to react

Deceptive:

B: looking away, walking away

J: scratching ear

C: smiling, neatly placed hands

M: long blink

Thoughtfulness:

B: staring off, quiet, daydreaming

J: staring at object important to him, twisting pencil or object in his hand, squeezing his hand

C: squeezing hand, staring at object she wants to get rid of or improve

M: daydreaming, staring off at her own outfit—it’s foreign

5) Now the fun part: writing! I used to write with scene structure outline, but I think I’ve grown off the training wheels. But it really helped me in Deep Fried Drinks to plot out the chapter scenes ahead of time, and I used Ellen Brock’s proactive and reactive videos to help me out with that. I throw on some music to get me in the mood of the story and I write during my kid’s nap, about two hours every day. Sometimes I’ll write at night, but lately I’ve been too tired to do that. My tip for this part is to try and figure out what you want to improve. What are you good at, and what could you improve as a writer? My first fics had like zero figurative language. Awkward. This takes a level of awareness that’s hard to reach but watching or researching creative writing technique really helps me. For example, I used to NEED to write all five senses out for each chapter ahead of time. Now it comes naturally to me! I would say now my main issue is phrasing? Pacing? And I need to tone down the melodrama for my next work....... lol! I write, write, write--and usually, I write 60-90% of the fic before I start editing!

6) Editing. Fun fun fun. I don’t mind editing, I just don’t think I’m that GOOD at it. I try to read through my chapter twice and edit as I go. I look for things I want to take out or add, look for show vs tell, formatting, etc--do things make sense? Did I miss anything? In ABAT, I’ll write something in chap 20 that I need to start in chap 18, so I’ll go back and make a quick note to “add part about document somewhere in this chapter” so I don’t confuse readers. When I edit chap 18, I’ll add that line or paragraph in. It’s all an intricate web! I also have a list of vague words I try to eliminate or replace with stronger words (I have more words if you want them). I found that I have certain words or phrases that echo a lot, like “while”, “turned around”, “turned” or “did not”--now I search for these phrases/words and try to change them:

Get rid of vague words, fix by explaining more:

Some 

While

Thing

Stuff

Very

Really

Big/small

Good/bad

Simple verbs: had, was, went

Got/get

Few

Several

What

Do/Did

It

Like with all writing “rules”, they can be broken, but it helps to know why they are rules. I steered away from adverbs, and I think it improves my writing. Other writers have different prose and adverbs work so well--it all depends on your style! If I find these vague words in dialogue, for example, I almost never change them because dialogue is usually freaking vague lol!

7) Beta reader(s)! I honestly think this work is better than my other stuff because I have a newer beta reader, theunpaidcritic!!! *I bow* She’s literally an expert so it’s SO helpful for me in every way--I can’t fangirl about her enough. If you’re struggling to get a beta reader, I recommend joining a JB discord (transformative werk is my favorite discord, and there is a beta read request thread) or post a request on reddit!

8) Post! Once you’ve edited and gone over beta reader notes, it’s time to post! Congrats!!!!!!!!!!

For time reference, I started this process around mid-May for ABAT, and I will be done by early September. Maybe I’m just a fast writer? Compared to angel-deux, ha, I look slow. Everyone is different! Please let me know if you have any other questions, I am ALL about helping out! :) <3 <3 <3

[bearpillowmonster]

ReIgnited: Year of the Dragon Review

Everything is built on top of the last one, so all of the abilities are retained. But rather than having to unlock all the abilities to 100% a level, you need to unlock the characters, which I'll mention more about later. Instead of Talisman and Orbs, its eggs, each one has a different name and does a cute little animation like how the original did.

The flying sections are disappointingly back and with the addition of...races. I will say that the flying sections at least told you what order you should start with, I found myself being able to get most of them on the first try. Looking it up never helped, I also believe they gave you more time but whatever. The side missions are in a different format, they're actually in separate areas through portals, that does make the actual level short though but it’s arguable because it makes it easy to navigate if you’re going back through. I definitely felt that the level designs were strong here, same with the other games but some of the ideas used are just better, however I will complain that swimming wasn’t a problem for me in Ripto but it is for me here simply because there’s ‘more’ of it. It's like someone played with Spyro's flight controls and thought "Tony Hawk is popular, let's add a skateboard." Then the person in charge was like "Yeah, this would be good." I can't say I'm complaining though, it's really cool but once again, dated because a lot of the time, you're blindly riding up a ramp due to the camera angle, trying to hit a balloon.

How are those new characters? Well I'm going to spoil who there is for the most part. Let's go in order, Sheila jumps and kicks, I really like her because she can get to places Spyro can't and can just bust stuff rather than looking for a rocket to bust it for her. Sgt. Byrd is debatable because I like that he can fly but you have to keep it up and keep tapping the button, while trying to do multiple things at once. The aiming system is also a bit wonky, it’s not bad, just unbalanced. He has homing missiles, but you need to be facing your target so you can imagine some goofs here and there especially trying to get flying enemies while trying to keep yourself in the air. They gave similar controls to the submarine and stuff and while I like that level, the aiming system was way off. I could be right in front of something and it miss... Bentley is nice in the sense that he can bash everything, I like the idea of his spinning ability too but the actual use is kinda wonky as well especially considering Bentley takes up 1/3 of the screen. Though there is one thing...

Agent 9 is probably the best of them all both personality and gameplay wise because his gameplay is where it varies most compared to the others, that's actually what I really like when it comes to games like this, I was someone who was rooting for gimmicks in Sonic games so that each game seemed new. Agent 9 takes a 3rd person shooter type approach as well as using bombs or grenades for the harder stuff. I could see people slaying in the steam port. It's pure childhood wacky fun, there’s even an on-rails level that feels like an amusement park attraction.

As for villains, I was worried about this one because I saw Bianca but I don’t believe I ever saw the Sorceress before this, yet this is apparently the most popular game so why wouldn’t she be the most popular villain? I’m not too sure to be honest, she’s not a bad villain but I still like Ripto the most, he seems the most iconic, Gnorc just doesn’t do enough. I have this funny glitch I thought I'd share. 

That lost wolf side level glitched out on me every single time where you throw the ball on that 3rd or 4th area near the button and the dog gets stuck on the platform next to the button and won't move. I point out these glitches for fun and for constructive reasons because these were far and few between and also based on old games so I’m not holding that against it.

All in all, I felt some nostalgic type feelings with this one as well as Ripto, it definitely lives up to being the series that I wanted it to be even if there are things that I would improve on. Is this one better than Ripto? On a technical level, yes, but it doesn’t leave Ripto in the dust, I actually prefer Ripto but not by a whole lot. So, I would put it Ripto > Year > OG and all of those higher than Skylanders and New Beginning.

[luvbug724]

I kinda disagree with you on the Neil running thing, while I definitely agree that if Neil gets the urge to run he will go to Andrew first. (And hes bound to get the urge to run, I mean he was running for longer than he was stationary so itll just be a natural response and it's unlikely to go away without addressing it and Neil refuses therapy) Andrew cant always be there and I think that's when Neil might get close to running? And I rlly think Neil would struggle when he leaves palmetto

Especially becuz in the quotes u put Andrew grounds Neil by putting a hand on his neck or grabbing his collar, and Andrew wont be there to do that. I've read fics where Neil gets close to fully running... like he stops at the airport/train station/bus stop or whatever and I think that's what he'd do? He would get the urge to run, not be able to ground himself, pack a bag and then run but be able to stop himself before he rlly runs away becuz the urge has gone down now that he has ran that far

you can disagree with me, that’s absolutely fine! but i’d like to elaborate a little more on what i said because even looking from your pov i maintain my original point :)

while, yes, there’s absolutely the potential for neil to want to run while andrews not physically there to stop him, i think that the important thing in how andrew is able to do it in canon is not the fact that he came for neil but the fact that neil called him for help in the first place. he didn’t even realize he was doing it until he got pulled back to reality by andrew’s voice. even though neil wanted to run and every instinct he had was overwhelmed and telling him to go be anywhere but palmetto, he picked up his phone and made the call.

another good thing to note is how even though andrews the most important person in neils life, he isn’t the only one. neil has the foxes and, not only does he have wymack for when andrew graduates, but he has robin cross.

i know a lot of people haven’t read the ec and don’t know about robin cross so here’s a brief summary: she was created to answer the question of what happens to neil when he’s the only original fox left at palmetto state. she was andrews first and only rookie pick and eventually joined the foxes and roomed with andrew, neil, nicky, and aaron for a year (andrew gave up his bed and slept in neil’s).

the way the scene in tkm chapter nine plays out is: first, neil calls andrew. then, he is momentarily grounded by hearing andrew’s voice, and andrew drives back to palmetto to pick him up and make sure he can’t go anywhere. (this is all one quote but i can’t figure out how to work the formatting)

Andrew killed the engine and tossed his keys in the now- empty passenger seat.

"Get out or stay here," Andrew said. "Those are your only choices."

Running wasn't an option, he meant. Andrew knew why Neil had called him. "I'll stay."

now going back to my earlier point, i think that even if andrew is able to ground neil with just his voice, neil isn’t completely okay even after hearing andrew talk. but i also don’t think that andrew has to be the one to physically stop him. if we’re going to follow the idea that neil wil have strong enough urges to run four+ years after canon, there’s wymack, who andrew trusts immensely, and robin, who’s neils best friend who are going to be with neil every step of the way even when andrews not near him for his fifth year. i personally believe neil heals enough that the urge to run will never be as strong as it was pre baltimore (when i say pre baltimore i mean all of canon before baltimore, not just the locker room scene), and there will definitely never be an overlap of events again that push him to that point afterwards.

but as you brought up, neil may be alone the year after he graduates. there’s nothing noras written in her ec that describes the existence of any roommates but there’s also nothing (to my knowledge) that says he has none. however, i’d like to present to you probably one of my only aftg headcanons that go against what’s noras said: i love the idea that neil signs to matt’s team and rooms with him for the year that he and andrew are apart after he graduates. in this year andrew and neil are also professional athletes with enough disposable income to travel to see each other as much as possible. so even though andrew and neil are apart, andrew has the resources to help neil and matt can make sure he stays.

i hope that this explained my perspective a little bit better, i had a lot of fun trying to write out my thoughts and i’m super sorry if all the formatting is wonky, i did this on my phone and i’m not quite sure how to work the mobile post editor. i’m also very very sorry if anybody had to scroll through this without reading, i don’t know how to add a keep reading on my phone 😭

[smokin-gun]

New “chapter” coming up. It’s just to keep the ideas flowing even if the writing isn’t quite where I want it. I apologize if this shows up as wonky, long, and horribly formatted. I will fix on my PC tomorrow if it doesn’t quite do what I want. Written in my phone so please excuse the errors.

———————————————-

The hair stood on the back of his neck and widened eyes turned slowly towards the figure behind him. He didn’t need to see him. The memories rushed back to him in one swift moment. That voice made him feel as if he were three fulms again, ashamed of everything he’d ever accomplished and threefold ready to scale the walls of Ishgard to escape it.

Nyx found himself staring with one eye, a terrified pool of amber, at the man standing not four strides away from him. His stance was seemingly carefree, but his frame was rigid and standoffish without being overly so. It didn’t fool the Seeker into a false sense of security. He knew this meeting wasn’t on pleasant terms.

“Ye fucked off fer what... fifteen seasons? An’ everyone thought ye died... bu’ ye dragged her useless arse back here of all times? Are ye fuckin’ yankin’ me?”

The Miqo’te’s words were harsh, clipped, and thick towards the other, whose lips still remained upturned and smirking. It grated on him... how absolutely ridiculous...

He started to take a step towards Nyx but paused when the larger Seeker started for the gun strapped across his back, “Dunnae take another step. Yer nothin’ t’me... Old man”.

This seemed to please the stranger further and he reached upwards to push some of his straw hued hair from his face. His eyes were darker than Nyx’s, bordering on being orange instead of amber., and gave him a much more menacing gaze when he smiled.

“You’ll have to forgive me, A’rihan. I actually never intended to run into you, however, Rook informed me that you’d actually chosen to inherit my little Ishgardian secret... I find it intensely fascinating!”, he flung his arms wide and his teeth flashed in the light of the aetheryte. Behind him, his tail flickered about like a curious coeurl, animated and excited. Nyx visibly stiffened at the realization that Rook had set him up.

“I always knew your sister would never step foot in this place but I never once in my days thought you, of all people, would actually end up here. Saying I’m proud would be taking it too far, but at least you’re not a complete failure”.

Nyx’s lips pursed and an inhale of air hissed through his teeth. Any other time he’d have breached the gap between them, but it would unfortunately mean touching the disgusting man. Instead, he persisted in watching him with fleeting interest. He did what he could to withdraw from tossing him over the edge of the towering city.

“Dunnae tell me ye came all the way back from the Hells t’shit on me... wha’ d’ye really need...”, his fingers itched to draw his gun and his nerves were fading.

“I suppose you could say I’m here as a messenger so please don’t shoot me... pun intended”, he motioned towards the gunblade resting against the other’s shoulders, “... I imagine you won’t appreciate the news one way or the other, but I had a bit of information to give you and shock factor tends to get to people’s heads a lot quicker, as I’m sure you’re aware”. He shifted his stance and placed his weight on another leg as his eyes met Nyx’s with the face of his smile.

“They’re looking for you now, more than ever. The only reason I was able to find your location is because they’ve known this entire time, A’rihan. You know it to be true. But what you’ve not been cognizant of... is that you’re tied to them more than you know”.

“Tha fuck’re ye on aboot?”, Nyx’s ears had fallen against his skull and his teeth clenched shut so that the skin around his jaw pulled taut.

“Garlemald, boy. Did you never question why you were never accepted by any of the tribe? I can assure you it was not because of your controversial conception... It was because I-“.

“Stop”, the Seeker bristled and his fingers had balled into fists at his sides. He’d completely forgotten the howling gales around them despite the whipping of the ponytail behind him, “Dunnae say a thing more or I’ll sink a bullet in yer forehead”.

“Do I even need to say more? Surely you’ve figured it out by now”.

He was about to continue when a clicking of heeled boots sounded next to them. The hazy street produced a figure, one of smaller stature, that neared them. Nyx heard the voice before he saw the face, “My dearest A’trellon, that’s quite enough for now... You’ve had your moment, but I’m afraid it’s time to head home... You’ve been very bad and we both know you’ve said a bit too much, hm? You know they’re going to have to give you a few pinches when you return”.

“Antiquia...”, both of the men stuttered the word out as the woman came into view. In both hands were some form of handgun, most likely altered to suit her combat needs, and each was pointed at the two. The darker skinned beauty smiled at them with ruby lips as raven hair laid in shiny curls around her face. Eyes as red as the blood moon leered at them with an energy that conflicted with her confident smirk. A third, much smaller orb tested just above her brow and between her eyes. As she looked to Nyx, she offered him a wink followed by a nod with her chin, “A’rihan... oh I’m sorry, you still go by Nyx don’t you? Such a silly nickname... nothing about you is dark or imposing really... but I do have to thank you for keeping my pet preoccupied while I searched for him. It’s too bad I’m a little busy right now or I could have had a two for one... Oh well. It really just means another trip to this charming, quaint little establish. Cute, really”.

A’trellon glared at her but seemed neither stunned nor surprised by his predicament. Instead, Nyx watched in absolute confusion as he walked over slowly and offered the woman his hands. She lowered the gun fixed on him and began attaching a device around his throat that resembled a dog collar. When she’d had it properly affixed, her crimson eyes searched Nyx’s and her smile never faded, “Now, do be a good boy and make our second trip a little easier. See how well behaved your father is, A’ri- Nyx?”. She turned from him, lowering the other gun much to his surprise, and began disappearing into the fog that surrounded them, “Can’t wait for you to see your home, Little Miqo’te”.

A’trellon disappeared with her and his newly reunited son made no attempts to rescue him... but the younger’s realization had hit him... Where had he been born exactly? There was no third eye... Miqo’te couldn’t be... No. Pet?

“...There’s no feckin’ way...”.